Live vicariously though El Dommo as he reports back from his tour to watch Bledisloe 4 in Tokyo
Tour Diary Entry 29-11-09
Getting there – the first leg
I woke up this morning to a 7:30am phone call from a mate on the road to woop woop, unaware he was cutting my sleep time to a shade under 5 hours due to a late night suitcase packing effort. The morning unfolds with its usual “Wallaby” (“predictable”) pattern. And then the excitement hits me: at 1445 I’ll be jumping on a booze laden A330 Singapore Airlines flight to terrorize Tokyo for a solid 5 days, together with what I conservatively estimate to be up to 5000 fellow Skips and Kiwis.
The first thing that dawns upon me is the sheer spectacle that is a Bledisloe game (umm, discount Wellington please). So much history; the Kefu try, the Eales conversion, the Lomu rampage, and that’s just in the last 10 or so years. So much history, but in Tokyo, the Land of the Rising Sun, where sumo and samurai walk the streets in peace like that Twilight movie said, this will rival on a personal note, the Honkers trip taken same time last year. A close and possibly more overwhelming second thought, is just how much cash I am about to blow on sake, noodles and Geishas.
Its 1245 and we have arrived at Brisbane airport, a place that has about as much character as a tombstone. The customs officer has already eyed me over once (in Brumbies cap and Canterbury trackies), before letting me through, probably believing I’m a risk of squirrel gripping the pilot in an attempt to re-live wonder years of the past.
It’s now 1700 Brisbane time, I’ve spent the last 2 hours after take-off scoping the aircraft. It is the best flight I have ever been on. Leg and shoulder room, in-flight entertainment to rival your local Megaplex (e.g. for starters, 120 movies, 170 TV shows, not to mention the “Learn the Language” interactive programme for the linguists), however my eye creeps towards the “Official Video of the 2009 Lions Series” and I suddenly feel content.
Moving at 550mph and 55,000 feet above the earth, presented with a nice meal, I can only complain about the fact I’m forced to choose between Fosters and Tiger beer. On my fifth Fosters I make the bold statement to my touring partner (the Gnome) that Fosters is perhaps the most iconic Australian beer there is. A raised eyebrow is all I get in return, with some inaudible profanity, so I stop the next hostie walking past (alas a male) and ask for a Tiger beer. In hindsight, a mistake.
An hour on, the atmosphere resembles your local morgue. I sense some of these passengers may consider Curling a contact sport (stay tuned for the Winter Olympics), whereas on the last years trip, two thirds of the way in, the flight had been drained of booze (including ones that taste foul). I decide now is not the best time to declare my attendance at the Bledisloe cup game, however, I am reassured by the sporadic salute, or knowing nod from some men who look like they appreciate the dynamic of a scrum, and feel optimistic about Leg 2 (Singapore – Tokyo) and the following days’ wickedness.
Clouds and lightning threaten as we are about to touch down at Changi. I hope this is not a sign of things to come for the Wobblies, as poor Dingo is desperate for a win, or his Zen Coaching crap will all be for naught. At Changi and in the air to Tokyo, I intend on pressing the case for the investigative journalism prize (whatever its’ called), by seeking out some Raa Raa fans, and getting the lowdown on the peoples thoughts on the game at hand.
