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I am the master packer.

I can fit anything in my purse, the trunk of my Tiburon, and in a suitcase. In one, I packed all my books and clothes. The other, souvenirs, shoes and everything else. The only things in my carry on were my purse, three books, and the laptop. Less than what was in it on the way out here. Amazing, eh?

At the airport, the bags weighed in at about 27 kilos each. That’s 60 pounds. They got tagged with the bright orange ‘lift with the knees, not with the back’ warning sticker. Hee.

I waited till the last possible minute to board the plane. It was no surprise our goodbye would be painful. Except that it’s not really goodbye, because we’ve already started plans for next year. This is just a break to save up money. In the meantime, we’ll finish our novels. Maybe get more into photography. Whatever hobby we can find that doesn’t cost anything.

I got on the plane and was stuck behind a screaming baby the whole way to Sydney. Three hours of eardrum-shattering wailing no iPod could out-blast. Sigh. Little did I know, it was to set the tone for the entire journey.

After a 40 minute rest in Sydney, it was back on the jumbo 747, aka: your hell hole for the next 14 hours. The plane was full. I was stuck in the middle seat, beside the woman who farts in her sleep and behind the guy who has to recline his seat the whole way. I read for the first couple hours, then switched to TV when dinner came. Then to simulate nighttime, they turn the lights down and I figured I’d just keep watching TV because it was free and I wouldn’t be able to on the American flights. So I watched. Three episodes of Family Guy, then the Billy Bob Thorton movie, Mr Woodcock. Then I went pee. Then I tried to sleep, but failed miserably. Too squished. Turned TV back on. Watched two episodes of House. Watched the movie Juno. Watched three episodes of The Simpsons. Ate breakfast (cereal). Went pee. Watched three episodes of Two and A Half Men.

Then finally we landed in San Fran.

I had two hours until the next flight, in which dragged my bags from the carousel, I raced through customs, claimed my chocolate, dragged the bags to the Continentel terminal, checked them, had to pay $50 per bag for ‘additional weight’, was herded like a cow through security, then raced to the other end of the terminal to get to my gate. Bought a peanut butter cookie and tea, figured it would be my lunch. Called Caroline, talked for half an hour, then got on the plane for Houston.

As soon as the plane leveled out, they fed us hamburgers. I didn’t know domestic flights fed passengers meals, or else I wouldn’t have spent 5 bucks at the airport. *grumble* The flight itself was more comfortable than the Qantas one, even though it was just as full. I read for a while but started falling asleep, so I drifted until we landed.

After a race through Houston airport, I arrived at the gate just as the flight started boarding. Ended up sitting next to some guy who was coming from London, returning to home in Liberty. What are the odds?

Flying up through Missouri, I had a window seat and watched lightening in the clouds below us. When we got closer to Kansas City and I could see the lights, it started to feel a little weird—even though I couldn’t recognize anything, instincts told me I was close. I was back, aged by two months. I missed my dogs, my family, my friends.

Mom and John met me at the airport, over 24 hours since I’d left Caroline in Melbourne. We drove to Liberty, stopped at Sonic, then continued to the house. John and I dragged the suitcases up the sidewalk, Mom carried groceries she’d bought for me. And inside was this:







Melanie, along with most of the gang from work, broke into my house earlier that night and vandalized it (with love). Cray paper was everywhere. Balloons were stuck to all the walls of my bedroom. The bed was in the living room, the couches in my bedroom. They’d bought me food. Jessie turned all my Breyer horses around backwards. There were rubber ducks in my sink, floating in bubbles. More in the toilet. Post-it notes on all the walls. Dana’s welcome sign on the front door. KY Jelly on the toilet handle. Melanie taped my sheets to the mattress. The radio was set to the rap channel.

It was freakin’ awesome.

The next morning, I got a shower in discovered one more prank: baby oil in my shampoo.

I think this was Melanie’s idea and I love her for it. I never EVER thought that all my coworkers would ban together and do something like this, but the fact that they did makes me go all warm and gooey inside. Really guys, it means a lot. Makes coming back to work just a little easier. I owe you all, I know you each came forward and helped Melanie, made sure she didn’t explode from all the pressure. Without you, I couldn’t have done what I did, and I’m grateful.

Now get your asses over here and move my furniture back.

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And this concludes the first chapter of the Without a Map Blog. Thanks for reading, thanks more for commenting, and until next time: peace out!