....and we're off!

We love flying. Well at least I do. A lot. I won't bore you with the particulars, but rest assured I really love it. On second thoughts let me indulge; 200 odd fellow travellers, shared bath rooms, minimal personal space and a resignation that, for the duration of the flight at least, its ok to invade the already minuscule amount of personal space. And don't get me started on airports. Unlike flying, we both love airports.

While waiting at the terminal in Melbourne, we were enjoying an extended and sustained period of people watching, however disregarding the usual stereotypes; the businessman, the Indian family, the wealthy retired couple and the fellow backpackers. In particular, one fellow traveller really grabbed my attention. The lady who was decked out, from head to toe, in leopard print clothing. I'm talking a hybrid pyjama/tracksuit style leopard print clothing. This begs the question: what really is suitable aeroplane attire? After receiving much counsel from family and friends I went for; jeans, my favourite pair of briefs, collared shirt and a sweater. Mrs Cheetah obviously received vastly different advice from her cohort and decided on the more seductive approach.

After arriving at KL airport for our connecting flight we made use of Starbucks' free wifi. Again this provided another excellent opportunity for some more people watching. But, unlike in Melbourne we took a more clandestine approach and did so from behind the comfort of our laptop screen. 'SMASH,' our change in tactic paid dividends as our ears alerted us to the events being played out directly behind us: an admirably muffin topped, high heel shod, skin-tight jean totting genuine Aussie bogan. With a great deal of disdain we swallow our pride at being Australian. 'Shaz', for arguments sake, is standing over a green puddle and bag of now smashed Midori glass and soaked cigarettes. To cut a long story short, she stupidly decides to pick up the bag of glass and cigarettes only for the remaining alcohol to pour out onto the floor. Her friend promptly tells her to rescue the cigarettes. She quips back, 'I can't - they’re duty free.' We begin to laugh, bordering on hysterics, imagining the lady attempting to board her flight, declaring her sticky duty free cigarettes and a bag of smashed glass. Goodluck getting that bag of glass shards onboard! Still sniggering, we watch as 'Shaz' walks off, drips in tow, no doubt looking forward to getting smashed at her next destination.

More food anecdotes to follow. We promise. Seriously.

And photos too.