Arrival from Canberra on QF 719: 6 April 2007, 2155
Leave to Sydney on QF 518: 7 April 2007, 2335.
Time in Perth: 1 hour, 40 minutes.

It’s a reasonably long flight to Perth, and once the dinner has been cleared away, the dishes are done and the cabin becomes quiet, I consider something to mark all of my flights. I’m not an extroverted personality, and I’m generally happiest alone with a book and my thoughts. But I take a delight in the smiles of strangers. (Even more in the smiles of friends and family, though I don’t have to stretch out for those – they come free with love.)

I’m travelling with a companion this trip. It’s my codriver, Ringbear, a toy bear with a bell on his neck and a t-shirt with the BBC Radio Shropshire logo. Jim Hawkins gave him to me last April when I was invited on his show when passing through Shrewsbury. I talked about BookCrossing, demonstrated the Tim Tam Slam, and generally had a great time with Jim, a wonderful radio host.

Ringbear has been around the world a couple of times, and I’ve taken to taking pictures of him in front of various landmarks. Diamond Head, the Golden Gate. He’s shared every taxi shift, wedged into a corner of the dashboard, sliding across if I take the corners too fast. More lately I’ve strapped him in behind the taxi meter with a rubber band. People smile when they see him, a big man with a teddybear.

He’s got his own platinum frequent flyer tag, just in case he gets lost somewhere, maybe he’ll find his way back home.

But for the moment, I have him right here in my carryon, I’ve got my small camera, and I’m a mellow fellow. I get up; push through the curtain into the galley.

“Uh, could I be so bold as to ask for a picture?” Ringbear offered in one hand, camera ready in the other.

Smiles break out. I’m on a winner here. Big Paul and petite Kimberley pose with Ringbear. Human landmarks of the trip, the people who make my flights so very pleasant. I look forward around the world and see many more smiles to come.

I like Perth. It’s an interesting airport with a far greater variety of aircraft than we see in Canberra. Qantas Boeing 717s and Avro 146s, both little regional workhorses. International airliners, jumbos and airbuses. I’m nose to the window as we taxi in.

Still chewing my descent gum, I’m one of the first down the jetway. I’ve only got a couple of hours here, and every moment counts. Quick look around the shops – nothing to catch my curiosity. Outside on the taxi rank is where the action is, and I look it over with an eye more keenly open than my weekend here last April.

Perth has set up a series of platforms, like a railway station. Canberra has just one kerb, where taxis deliver passengers and accept them from a short rank. With any sort of busy it becomes a tangle, not at all efficient, and not what hurried passengers need. Unsafe as well, and there are any number of close shaves and heated words between drivers.

Perth has a better system. Closest to the doors is the taxi rank, a steady stream of cabs coming from some offscreen feeder. Passengers looking for a cab are naturally directed to the first in the line, and presumably all these cabs have paid some airport fee to get into the line.

Next platform out is the drop off area, and here cabs and private vehicles mingle. Drop offs take time. Fares are paid, luggage unloaded, farewells made – it’s not the structured rush of the pickup area, and it makes a lot of sense to separate the two activities. A lot of the bigger airports have different levels for arrivals and departures, which works even better, keeping baggage-laden passengers out of the vehicular traffic.

A third set of platforms are for buses, which have their own, slower rhythms. Buses also have their own visibility problems. The more I analyse Perth’s system, the more I detest Canberra’s.

Here there are many taxi brands, many different liveries. I notice that all have the older character based radio despatch displays, now becoming history in Canberra in favour of a larger graphics screen with integrated GPS mapping.

I take a few photographs, endeavouring to get a taxi, Ringbear and the “Perth Domestic Terminal” sign all in the same shot. Security guards give me the eye, passing me off as a genial idiot when they spot the toy bear.

Time’s passing and I head back inside, where I release a book near someone slumbering, curled up on the floor. Nietzche, a slender pocket edition, just right for travelling.

The Qantas Club is up a set of escalators, offering a view out over the ramp, where I can see the 747 for my next leg waiting for me to finish my coffee. It’s the redeye to Sydney and I’m feeling tired, with only a few hours of sleep since a frenzied Easter Thursday shift ended at four thirty this Friday morning.

I plug in my laptop and am horrified to see that I’m nearly empty on battery. The salesman promised five hours plus, but I barely used it on the flight. I find an online review of this model, and the reviewer is particularly cutting on the subject of battery life. This could be a major problem on some of my longer flights. Worse yet, it’s taking its own sweet time about charging up. Some of my transit times will be too short for me to find a power point, let alone recharge completely. I’m going to have to invest in a bigger battery, I can see.

I’ll worry about that later – for now they are calling my flight and I want to see how much sleep I can squeeze in.