I have found a little jewel which I had forgotten all about. A group email which pre-dated blogging about my trip to Darwin in 2003. It is quite telling the style in which I wrote it. It also reminds me of a different me, a different time and a different life I was leading. Very nostalgic. Well, here goes, enjoy.
Yesterday, I woke up at 4 am to board a plane from Darwin to Brisbane, after having spent most of the night carousing and driving my friend Sean to the same airport. what you may ask was I doing in Darwin? Sean had this bright idea a few months ago: he wanted to go for a short break to Darwin. I thought it a brilliant idea and when some of my workmates ran into the office one day spouting some nonsense about going clubbing in Sydney because Virgin was having a seat sale, I jumped on the internet and checked it out. It was a liquidation of seats to all sorts of destinations, one of which was Darwin for the bargain price of $100 each way. So Seany and I got our heads together and booked. Unfortunately, I was a bit slow, and had to book the return journey with Qantas, which resulted in me being a casualty of Qantas' recent cutdown on flights. Instead of flying back with Seany at 1 am with Virgin, or at least checking in at the same time as him, I ended up driving him to the airport at midnight and then flying out at 6 am the same morning. Madness, I tell you. This also had the unfortunate consequence of missing out on the Virgin tarmac boys.
What's so hot about pit crew you ask? Normally, they're these chunky blokes in stubbies and dirty socks, hairy backs and body odour, but we're talking Virgin Blue here, so cool you freeze a side of beef on it. As Seany and I were boarding our Virgin Blue plane to Darwin, via the tarmac [very retro], we were greeted by three drop dead gorgeous Greek gods in tight shorts, hiking boots and hi-vi vests with killer smiles. Virgin may not provide on-flight entertainment, but it certainly does it pre-flight.
Even the head steward looked like a poster boy straight out of Wallpaper, platinum blond hair, golden skin, dressed in the new Virgin uniform: fitted white shirt and hipster tan trousers. The other flight attendants were similarly colour coordinated, but in female versions. It was only when I was on the return flight to Brisbane that I was able to compare Qantas' weedy stewards and their tarmac blokes, as well as the standard of service. Despite having to pay for your meal on Virgin, the service was a lot quicker and smoother.
But enough of Virgin and upwards and onwards to Darwin. Why Darwin? Because neither of us had been there before. Because it's a very remote place about which we didn't know much. Because it was going to be in the middle of winter, when Darwin is at its best, dry, warm and lovely.
When we landed at midnight into a 1970ps timewarp by the name of Darwin Airport, with shades of Queensland in the late 80s. We were surrounded by blokes in cowboy hats, Blundstones and heavy jackets, in a very balmy 26 degrees. Half of the crowd sported beards so bushy Bin Laden would have been proud to recruit them. The other half were obviously backpackers on their way to or out of Darwin. The arrivals hall was also the departure lounge and the onsite pub was packed. All the shops in the airport were open. At midnight! In the Northern Territory! That was the only indication that we were in 2003.
The feeling of deja vu only intensified as we drove through the suburbs and into the centre. Most buildings were of the low rise, concrete block variety, except for the odd specimen from the turn of this millenium, jutting out from the average. This impression, however, was corrected the next morning, when we took a walk around Centennial Park, and the city centre. Parliament House was a beautiful example of good angular and geometrical 70's architecture.
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