Flight 1: Qantas QF 719 Canberra – Perth
Aircraft: Boeing 737-800 VH-VYK “Moree”
Seat: 2F
Date: 6 April 2007
Scheduled: 1930
Boarding: 1910
Pushback: 1930
Takeoff: 1940
Descent: 2130 (Perth time)
Landing: 2150
Gate: 2155

You should have seen the expression on the face of the young lady at the check in desk when I handed her my book of tickets.

“I’ve never seen an itinerary like this!” she gasped, leafing through them.

“Maybe,” she said, spotting my flights from Canberra to Sydney via Perth, “we can improve this for you.”

This time it was my turn to look startled. “Ah no, that’s about as good as it gets. The idea is to go the long way around.”

I’m flying again. Unsettled, nervous at leaving my familiar routine. After weeks of anticipation, my heart should be soaring, but instead I wonder on the uncertainties, the details forgotten, the things I’ve left behind.

I’ve made a mistake or two. What happened to the book I was reading last night? Did
I pack it? Did I put my taxi moleskine in a bag? If so which? I wasn’t sure I’d gotten my small camera until I checked specifically at Canberra airport. I’m still not convinced that I haven’t left behind some vital item of electronics, a cable or plug that won’t be missed until I need it urgently.

My daughter came into the lounge with me, a kindred spirit in the delight of air travel, and we sipped coffee and gazed at the airliners with approval.

Time for boarding and I gave her a farewell hug, saying goodbye to Canberra and my normal life.

A long taxi straight up the runway, turn at the end and roll faster and faster until we’re off, climbing away to the south. They say it’s a vacuum over the wings pulling us up into the sky, but I can’t understand this. To me it’s magic.

Early evening and Tuggeranong is lit up, the roads rivers of gold, the suburbs glowing pools, the familiar intersections and roundabouts sweet miniatures under my eyes. Here are my taxi routes made plain, the nights spent driving along playing jazz, making conversation with mellowed passengers and dodging kangaroos. I lean out the window and feast upon the dwindling landscape, a tiny police car flashing red and blue and red upon some unlucky motorist as I soar away from my cabbie nights to Hong Kong and Istanbul.

And that was pretty much it for the flight. Unbroken night and moonlit clouds when I glanced outside, maybe a homestead light, and once a small bushfire.

Dinner was a choice of salmon crusted with herbs, a vegetarian pasta and some chicken meal. I had the fish dish and it was delish. Coffee and dessert to follow.

I watched a brief and unenlightening news bulletin, and then a long and romantic comedy. The stars, handsome and beautiful according to gender, worked their way through various love dilemmas, not least being intercontinental separations, and we finished with smiles all around.

Especially for me. I’m now well over my nerves, at one with the sky, helped along by a glass of spiced tomato juice. Mark me down as a mellow passenger.