This got me thinking...
I quite enjoyed the film because director James Cameron has created a realistic movie. Kate Winslet was erotic, the scenes with Leonardo DiCaprio were romantic and those closeup shots in her cabin were borderline pornographic. The ships fate, as we all know, was tragic primarily because Captain Smith was so myopic. Even though the scene of the ship sinking was graphic, it's a cinematic tour-de-force.
This was my first time flying Qantas and I was impressed. We flew a gigantic 747, which I like, because of the upper deck's conic shape; these planes have an aerodynamic ride. The pragmatic captain let us know that he was going on avionic automatic pilot and that our flight path would be erratic because some volcanic activity off Japan was changing either the atmospheric or barometric pressure. I wasn't sure which one because while he was announcing there was static. When he switched the system on, I could see the hydraulic mechanism on the wing move. It seemed he was using sound logic as he gave us periodic monosyllabic updates.
Qantas clearly took a holistic, some would say futuristic, approach when they designed the interior of the cabin. They used a very soothing synthetic psychedelic fabric and meals were served on ceramic china and not plastic. The charismatic flight attendants were a little spastic and their service erratic, but, I can't criticize them because the ethnic people in my section of the plane were very eclectic.
They included an arthritic Hasidic who appeared to find most foods allergic as well as a Sephardic Hispanic who was phlegmatic. Next to him was an Islamic heretic wearing a tunic who looked like some kind of academic and was on a macrobiotic bariatric diet. As amazing as it sounds, he was traveling with a newborn suffering from colic. The Irish woman across the aisle was no doubt a catholic film critic, as she appeared to be quite a skeptic and cynic in addition to being fluent in Gaelic. Rounding out the group was an antagonistic geriatric Slavic woman who was bulimic and a chic Arabic gentleman who spent the flight listening to music and reading the biography of Katie Couric while playing with a rubric cube. Luckily, there were no Belgians on the flight, thus none of the people seated near me were pedantic, idiotic or moronic. Looking back on our little section of the plane, we were a pretty pathetic group.
I settled into the flight by taking an analgesic to calm my nerves as I am prone to panic attacks in public because I am agoraphobic. Dinner was your basic garlic and balsamic glazed arctic char in aspic with an organic turmeric sauce. As delicious as that sounds, I found it a bit acidic, almost to the point of being toxic. My dinner was washed down with my usual gin and tonic, but only one, since I'm a borderline alcoholic. Rounding out the gastronomic fare was a terrific desert. It was a bit too caloric for me, but tasted orgasmic. After dinner I used the lavatory and found it hygienic owing to the fact that everything in it was electric. Before returning to my seat, I washed my hands with the Aussie hypoallergenic antiseptic soap provided.
The turbulence over the Pacific was horrific, but after it passed the drone of the engines was hypnotic. After I dozed off, my sleep was episodic because the loud guy in seat 4A was so bombastic. Perhaps I was wrong and there were Belgians on board. During the flight a chronic diabetic became ill. Luckily, there was a homeopathic medic from the Mayo clinic on board. After a quick diagnostic he prescribed a simple diuretic instead of an antibiotic. I tried to settle down after this incident and took out the latest issue of National Geographic, which you will note I have properly spelled in its italic.
Sydney's Harbour Bridge
I didn't fly directly to Australia but stopped in the birthplace of President Obama. I found Hawaii to be both exotic and idyllic and can see why it makes people behave hedonistic. The cigar I enjoyed on my brief stop there was aromatic. Although the cocktail waitress at my hotel was flirting with me quite a bit, and we engaged in a little frolic, nothing of a phallic nature occurred and our relationship remained platonic.
Landing in Australia after all that flying left me both manic and euphoric. Getting through customs at Kingsford Smith Airport in Sydney was no picnic. I hope long lines are not symptomatic of what I will find in Australia. As I am not a particularly patient person and waiting in hectic, long lines sometimes makes me go ballistic. Once you exit customs there are Australian flags everywhere in this patriotic country.
For the record, Australia is a commonwealth, and not a republic. While I don't know a lot about domestic issues here, I will try to be sympathetic to the plight of the Aboriginal people. Based purely on what I saw at the airport Australians appear to be diplomatic and have a good work ethic. I don't know if it's a emblematic of the nation as a whole, but they appear to be prolific beer drinkers.
Since I'm naturally optimistic, I'm glad to be here. I hope the trip turns out as fantastic as I have hoped. I can't wait to see the iconic Opera House again, with its panoramic view of the harbor. It of course houses the philharmonic. From everything I've read and seen Royal Adelaide looks like a classic course; Royal Melbourne is sure to be historic; the pictures I've seen of New South Wales seem scenic and dramatic; Barnbougle looks rustic and Kingston Heath, majestic. I have also read that it requires heroic shots to hit the greens.
I can't wait to get out and enjoy the fresh air. After being cooped up in a plane for so long I have pain in my pelvic region and am somewhat lethargic. I could benefit from the aerobic exercise that golf brings and I hope to increase my metabolic rate walking the courses. I'm also hoping I get good caddies and that none of them turn out to be either antagonistic or robotic.
When I started this journey I was approached by many a skeptic. Is this realistic, they would ask? Well, it's certainly not economic, since the costs of this odyssey are approaching the astronomic. Now that I'm visiting my twelfth country, it has truly evolved into a quest of epic proportions and the outcome now appears fatalistic. If you've read this far you know I'm clearly a confirmed lunatic and a certified golf fanatic. I hope you find my blog both comic and didactic. I can see why my journalistic standards might not be to everyone's liking, as I can sometimes be theatric. This journey is truly a quixotic one. I think once I've finished it, I am going to need psychiatric help.
My lineup includes New South Wales, Barnbougle, Lost Farm, Royal Adelaide, Kingston Heath and Royal Melbourne and will be back with golf writeups soon.
The Lodges at Barnbougle Dunes