Australians often complain about the “Australia Tax”—the mysterious premium we pay on just about everything from gadgets to groceries to economy class. But we in Canberra? We live under a more niche tyranny: the Canberra Tax. Flights to and from CBR are somehow double the cost of any other route. A simple 300km hop to Sydney? North of $200. Same price as a decent domestic leg. Except this one’s in a Dash 8 and lasts about as long as a good voice message.

But I love flying out of CBR. It’s never too busy, the layout is intuitive, and it only takes minutes to get from kerbside to airside. My wife dropped me off like she was making a grocery run, and moments later I was airside, toasting the trip with a drink at Capital Brewing, courtesy of priority pass, and then migrated to the Virgin lounge to nurse a beer and answer a few work emails to keep up the illusion of productivity.

The hop to Sydney was, as always, unremarkable. We spent more time in the airspace above Sydney than actually flying. It’s a route best described as “airborne formality.”

After landing, I took the airport bus to the international terminal. From there: check-in, security, and immigration. I was walking into the Qantas First Lounge 45 minutes after deplaning.



While arriving into Australia usually involves suspicion, sniffer dogs, and explaining your trail mix to someone in latex gloves, departures have now started to resemble arrivals. After security, you’re funnelled into a single, sad little immigration hall with exactly sevenSmartGates to serve all of international departures. Seven! For a major city. But once you make it through, the reward is sweet. You emerge into the warm, familiar glow of the Qantas First Lounge.



Now, in Australia, we don’t agree on much. But we do agree on three cultural icons: Don Bradman, Ned Kelly, and the Salt and Pepper Squid in the Qantas First Lounge. The lounge itself is beautiful—tastefully designed, with great tarmac views and a decent wine list. And in the past, I’ve had some excellent meals there. I have the photos to prove it.

Full disclosure: I’m vegetarian. (Not by choice)

So it was with great anticipation that I approached this long-awaited return visit (my first since 2019). And, well… let’s just say it didn’t live up to the memory.

I had lentil soup, mushroom stir-fry, and pavlova. The soup was lukewarm, joyless, and so devoid of flavour that no amount of salt or pepper could revive it. The mushroom stir-fry was better, but still miles behind what you could get in any average suburban Asian joint. The pavlova? Glorious, as always. And the sourdough served with the soup was legitimately excellent—I ate the bread and left the soup, which felt symbolic somehow.

All of this was accompanied by two glasses of champagne and the slow erosion of my culinary optimism. But hey, champagne dulls many things. Including soup-based betrayal.



Some people critique QR First for its lack of doors, or its less-than-private layout. Personally, I don’t mind. It’s spacious, elegant, and—most importantly—has no dreaded footwell coffin. As for privacy, I’m not particularly worried. I assume my cabin-mates are far too busy drinking Krug and pretending to sleep to care what I’m doing in seat 2A.

As I write this, we’re 12 hours into the flight. I’ve had a good meal, slept solidly for nearly seven hours, and spent the last few hours sipping coffee, writing and reflecting on the fact that this whole plan, while slightly ridiculous, is also absolutely worth it.



There’s 1.5 hours left until we land in Doha

P.S. No photos until we get to BHX, most likely. My phone and iPad are currently locked in a Cold War, and I lack the finger flexibility (and patience) to type anything longer a line on my phone. Words only for now—pictures when iDevice diplomacy is restored