The 25th of January 2011 will always have a special place in my heart. A day similar to my first visit from the tooth fairy or that of my first Packers game. Euphoric would be an understatement, a word more than likely exists that I am unaware of, or simply too lazy to look up in a thesaurus. Nonetheless, it was the day Kate Lev and I would be departing for the "Old Country." We started out our morning behind schedule as usual, a final lavish breakfast at Yolk took the better part of two hours. Upon completion the two of us realized we still had a shit load of things to do before our flight to Sydney at 3:30 that afternoon. To save you several minutes as well as some useless information we did in fact make it to O'Hare on time, thanks in great part to the cab we took as opposed to the original 'we're taking the L train, we're on a budget and we're backpackers' plan.
Our flight to LAX was a breeze as we both relaxed and watched 'Wall Street Never Sleeps.' [Sidenote: If Michael Douglas didn't just overcome cancer, I would more than slightly wish that Catherine Zeta-Jones would leave him for me.] We had about 5 hours in LAX before our 15-hour flight. Luckily Kate was friends with this guy from back home whose 4th cousin married some famous dog breeder who just so happened to be friendly with the concierge people at the Continental Club. Not only did this mean free food and free alcohol, but it meant we had nice leather couches, personal TVs and big fluffy pink things….. It was truly magical as we both indulged a little to prepare for our upcoming flight.
I can't speak for little Miss Levenstien, but when you're 6'3" and gangly as fuck, economy isn't the most accommodating for 15 hours. Kate was in the middle as she ever so kindly obliged to sit inbetween me and a young mate from Australia. The plane took off @ 10:30pm 1/25 and landed @ 6:30am 1/27 with only one lost day and a fart smelled cabin with crying children for the better part of an entire day. Anyway, this has gone on long enough. So we arrive and get through customs.
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