Blame Canada. Or Brisbane.

I arrived in Brisbane last night. I’m here to catch up with some friends, all of whom my relationships with began via the Interwebnet. The guest of honour is Scott, who’s coming out from Canada to meet us all, and whom I’ve known online since I was 16. Without wishing to sound like I’m calling myself old, that really is a fucking long time.

He was supposed to get here at 6am today, but the plane was delayed at Los Angeles, so he’s getting in at 7:30 tonight. And now I know what Brisbane traffic looks like at 5:30am (answer: busier than I would have thought).

I am fucking nervous. And fucking excited. And fucking sick of watching Cheaters on Foxtel in the motel room Shan and I are staying at. It’s raining at the moment (I might as well have stayed in Melbourne!), but soon we are going to brave the rain and go shopping, or something.

Full report somtime tomorrow. Or, you know, whenever I’m sober next.

4 Responses to “Blame Canada. Or Brisbane.”

  1. Tess Says:

    Hey, I did that a year ago. Flew to the States for a big moot. Was incredibly awesome. It’s hard to be nervous around people you’ve known for so long, even if you’ve never met them.

  2. Deirdre Says:

    Hey, when you’re in Brisbane, you’re not meant to get sober. Except about the problem of cane toads. Yeah.

  3. Nous Says:

    Mate, you still drunk or sumthin’?

  4. KOEN Says:

    Ok, are you sober yet? Dirty stories!