I was halfway across the Tasman Sea by 9.30 am. After we landed in Sydney two hours later and I put my watch back to local time, it was 9.30 am once again.
I was kicking around the terminal for five hours, waiting for my connecting flight; then on the plane for fourteen, with the child behind kicking me. But there was no chance of sleeping anyway, because the old man in the seat next to mine thought out loud when awake and snored like a grampus when asleep…and then, hours later, woke with a snuffle and sigh and told me he never slept on planes.
When I arrived puffy-eyed at LAX, it was 9.30 am for the third time that day, and I had got there before I set off.
© Richard Senior 2015