Does it smell like Nerd in here?

I'm an epic geek. I like fantasy movies (sometimes), and sci-fi (when it's good), magic cards and dungeons and dragons. Most of the time, I'm not embarrassed to say this. Except for when I'm trapped in a large conference hall with 10,000 other geeks who look and smell worse than a dragon's butt (yeah, I made a dragon joke, what of it?). Most of the following are just notes from my notebook on my impressions of the trainride there and back.

Catching a train half way up the measurable coast of the country may not be the best way to travel, but it’s far from the worst. It takes 14 hours to train from Sydney to Brisbane – which is about as long as a flight from Sydney to San Francisco or LA non-stop. Same amount of sitting and less distance covered, but it’s cheaper. Sort of. I didn’t want to fly because, well, I don’t like flying all that much, and I figure that if I was going to fly somewhere I might as well be leaving the country.

“It’s not so bad,” we said as we got on the train and began the journey. As it got darker, I figured we’d get more and more tired with the endless metal tube of the train. “First Class Seats” really just means “slightly better than economy seats that are next to the food and bathroom cars” but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a worthwhile investment. Considering the length of the trip, any extra comfort was welcome. The design of the seat was obviously drawn up by someone who never had to sit in them judging by the material and the footrest concept. However, the constant hum of the train on the tracks and relative silence within the carriage made for easy relaxation. I finished the first half-read novel I had with me within the first couple of hours of the trip. I missed you already.

The meal was 8 dollars for a pre-packaged spaghetti bolognaise and was maybe worth about 5, if that. I’m generous. Better than most aeroplane food I suppose. I have a strange sinking feeling in my stomach. Maybe I’m nervous or sad about something. Or it’s the food repeating on me. We’ll soon see.

The people on the train are curious folk. Mostly old, some disabled. One of 2 especially bad mannered.

The train keeps stopping when I wish it would just have a straight run.

The bathroom is about as big as a plane’s. The toilet flushes in much the same manner but it has a 5 second delay before the WHOOSH! of water. Also the tap is harder to figure out. I know that sounds dumb, but there is a huge button next to the tap which says “Presto” on it repeated 3 times and you don’t know what It does until you take the leap of faith and push it.

I wonder what club you join if you have sex in a cross-country train bathroom? The mile per hour club?

The train horns sound out in the night. Listen to it, isn’t it beautiful? The trains are talking to each other – like giant, metal whales of the land.

“There’s space for a paper aeroplane race in the eye of a hurricane” – All There Is

Note for t-shirt designs: should the spray paint read “pre-packaged” or “damage control” instead? – Clothing line called Dented Matches (Harvey Dent and the Matches)

Easier to relax, but not so much to sleep.

For some shirts, use jeans material to patch holes and create parts.

Even through the mirrored glass it’s still easier to see the stars out here.

“They took my bananas!” he said as he sprang awake from sleep and rolled over, quiet again.

Sleep on a train – sucks ass. Napping is ok.

Walking on a train is like being a drunk – a constant struggle for balance.

Now travelling back and beige, flat pastures/fields and rolling, green hills pass the window in an endless motion blue – occasional breaks in the tree line cause light obstruction and causes a strobe light on my writing table.

Upset stomach – from the greasy breakfast or am I hungry? Because it seems that the smell of food isn’t making me sick (it’s enticing) but the pain in my stomach isn’t the friendly fire.

Just happy to be travelling back I guess. Midday means nine more hours…well, almost ten really…but I don’t want to think about it. – gave in and borrowed a couple-a-bucks from Francis to buy a bottle of water and a bad corn beef sandwich. My stomach feels better.

10:22 and we finally pull into Central station, all of us falling asleep in our luggage. Jesse wanders off to walk home, and Francis offers me a ride home which I accept. He and Jannali make out for several minutes, "Come on guys, save some for at home, it's not like her just got out of prison...it's been a WEEK!" It bothers me to note that the others - who flew back - had not only left much, much later than us, but arrived much, much earlier than we did. Sleep will come soon.