Chapter 1: Commute & Conversations

It was a really long journey to the airport, taking over an hour by train, followed by 45 minutes by bus. Thankfully, the bus would drop me right at the airport. All I had to do was step through the door and get in line to pick up my boarding pass. Sometimes I wonder if it is worth going through this, in order to save a few bucks. In exchange for $20 - $30, I was using up 2 hours of my life, to get to the airport. In this instance, flying interstate would take me about the same time as the trip from the city to the airport.

I have always argued that I could read a book while I am on the train and bus, thus it was not a waste of time. I would get some R&R during my journey. Also, reading tends to make the journey seem short. All I had to do was sit there, with my nose in my book, and a little while later, I would arrive at the airport.

The flaw in my theory was that on this particular day, I could not read. I was very anxious. The airlines had stopped allowing online check-ins and insisted on closing the check-in counter 45 minutes prior to boarding time. This meant that I had to be at the airport, latest within an hour of boarding time. Making an allowance for delays and based on the train time tables, the entire journey from city to city (train, bus, flight plus all the wait times) was going to take me 6 hours! That was a really long time, even if I were reading a book. All for $30!

It was too late to change anything and I had to do what I had set out to do. Sitting in the train, unable to read, worried about a zillion things, including whether I would make it in time for check-in, whether the queue would be long, etc, I stared out of the window. I was not really looking at anything outside and there were a number of tunnels along the way, so I occasionally looked around me, inside the train.

At one station, as I watched people board the train, I saw a casually dressed girl, with a pleasant face, walk in. Her attire almost made her a non-entity but yet I had noticed her. I had picked her out of all those people who boarded the train and followed her trip from the door to her seat, with my eyes. In the next few seconds, I had forgotten about her and gone back to stressing about my trip and staring out the window. That was true, until I heard conversation in the carriage that was quiet until then. It was a rather loud male voice followed by a soft female voice.

A guy, seated opposite a girl at the front, was making conversation with her. She seemed to have been listening to music on her iPad and reading or playing but she looked up when he spoke. It was the same girl I had watched earlier. Apparently, the guy had received an iPad as a Christmas present and was excited about it. Soon, the conversation moved on from iPad to iPad games, to Christmas parties and various other events that happened across different states they had both visited over the last year.

It is amazing how a simple comment like, "I have an iPad too!" can turn into a long, incessant conversation. That is just what happened. Without realizing, I had been sucked into the scene that played before my eyes.

I must admit I love eavesdropping on other people's conversations in trains and buses. It keeps my mind occupied and I find it entertaining. Most of the time. So, here I was, listening to a conversation between a girl with a very pleasant face, and an equally pleasant demeanor, and a guy whose mind had not quite caught up with the rest of the body, age-wise. The conversation was rather interesting too. They probably knew I was listening, or were at least aware that one or more people in the train were, but they did not seem particularly bothered by it. A good thing too, that. From them, I heard about different kinds of music, the Big Day Out at the coast that I had read and wondered about, similar events in other parts of the world. I found out where the guy lived and the girl, who they lived with, where they were headed and why. All information that would mean nothing to me once I get off the train and head on my journey but made the journey pleasant, as conversations tend to do.

I did not miss my book for one minute of the journey. I did not even realize how long the train journey had been. As they both got off one station after another, the latter reaching his destination one stop before mine, the carriage got quieter. It hit me then that I still had another 45 minutes of a bus ride, to reach the airport. I figured I might have to read my book after all. Only, I was not particularly enthusiastic about it that afternoon and I did not. I chose to look out the window and get a feel of the route that I had taken so often in the past but never bothered to check out. It was not too bad. Maybe it was worth the trip, after all. I saved 30 bucks and had a new travel experience to write home about.

When The Queen Was Here

Queen Elizabeth II was in Brisbane on what was being touted as possibly her last tour to Australia. Nobody said why they thought it was her last tour. I cannot help but wonder if anyone realized it sounded like she was going to die. Somehow even thinking that seems blasphemous. 

From the news stand, I gleaned information that she is the only reigning monarch from The Royal Family to visit Australia and in her 16 visits to this continent, she has visited all the states. She was coming to Brisbane to pay her respects to the flood-ravaged areas and affected people. 

Thousands of Brisbanites assembled at various points on both sides of the Brisbane River, starting from Brett's Wharf to South Bank, to get a glimpse of the Queen (and more, if possible). When I arrived at SouthBank Parklands, the place was jam-packed. I do not remember seeing this many people in Brisbane even at the famous Riverfire or the glorious Ekka! Jostling crowds? What's that? Do we have that many people in Brissie? Nyah! Turns out we do. It was easy to see what the newsreaders mean when they talk about the pull the Queen has.

What I should have expected, but had not, was the number of old people present on the day. Some of them could barely walk but they were there, waiting for Her Majesty, in the blistering heat of the Sunshine State's summer sun. They were in such awe of the Royal family! A number of kids in fancy dresses, with flowers, cards and gifts for the Queen, waited patiently for her with their parents. The excitement in the air was almost tangible. I heard one parent saying they had been waiting in the same spot for 4 hours! That's one thing that never fails to fascinate me about the people here. They wait for hours, camping with their families, for a 15 - 20 minute event. Don't they have to be elsewhere, doing other things? 

Each time a boat came close to the pontoon, the crowd held their breath. A happy old man to my left was giving a running commentary to the ladies around him. Every time he said the Royal Boat had arrived and he was wrong, the grannies chided him for the slip-up. It was like watching a movie shot at a different time period. A young man with a bevy of ladies on his arm, while he regaled them with his army stories. 

When the police boats arrived, we knew she was going to be here any moment. Click, flash, hands flew up  all around me. The ones at the back of the crowd were hoping to capture something on their cameras to take back home, even if a direct visual was hard to get. The announcer from the news channel that was running a continuous update on her trip said the Queen had been up on her feet waving at people throughout the boat-ride. At her age, it was an amazing thing. The crowd went crazy. 

Finally, the ferry carrying the Royal entourage arrived at the South Bank Cultural Centre pontoon and stopped. More hands in the air, more flashes.

"There she is, in red!". "No, that's Anna Bligh". "Oh look, Anna is wearing a hat!" "The Queen is in green, next to Anna". "I can see the Prince". "Where, where? I don't see anything" "They're on the top deck. Anna is wearing a red hat, the Queen is in green". This last was from our old friend, the commentator.

I stood tip-toe on my 2 inch heels and strained my eyes. It was hard to spot them. The man in front of me, with 2 little girls, had got an eyeful and bend down to let the others behind him get a view. I saw two figures - one in red and one in pale green - standing side by side on the top deck! There seemed to be some men in suits but it was hard to tell who they were. Well, I got my glimpse! By then I had clicked a few randoms on my camera and was hoping that I'd managed to get them in at least one of my frames. Here is what I got.

Ha ha ha! No, that's a picture from one of the newspapers online. Here's what I really got from my camera. If you peer hard enough, you might see 2 little spots in green & red. That's them alright. 

I am not even sure why I went there. In India we do not go ga-ga over The Royal Family, like they do here in the Australia. It was a sort of a historic moment and I suppose I wanted to be a part of it. Even if it meant being one of a hundred thousand specks in the dust. It was not like most of us had a hope in hell of actually getting to see her. In the end, all I got was a glimpse of someone or something in a spearmint green coat and hat that was apparently the Queen. The Queensland Premier Anna Bligh was more easily spotted in her scarlet suit & matching hat. There were a couple of men dressed up in guardsmen outfit, who might have been the Queen's men or fancy dressed men in the crowd. It was hard to tell. It would be a shame not to mention the Duke of Edinburgh but he did not exactly make the headlines or do anything unusual to note. Not even one of his famous gaffes that day. There was a loud roar from the crowd as they got off the ferry and walked down the aisle at SouthBank Parklands. As she walked down the pathway, the noise moved with her and hands flew up, holding cameras, iPhones and SLRs. When she passed a certain spot, the crowd disintegrated in a trice. 

It had been an hour in the sun and I had seen all I could. As I made my way back, I saw a woman sitting on her husband's shoulders trying to get a better view. Cameramen from news channels trying to capture the excitement for their audience were thrusting mikes at her for a commentary on what she was seeing. When they left, I asked her if she saw the Queen and she said she didn't. Well, she got her 15 seconds of fame while the poor husband was straining under her weight. Someone yelled that the Royal entourage was in the QPAC building and everyone turned in that direction. Sure enough, we could see unmistakable green and red figures surrounded by black suits, through the glass windows. 

By now, I was hot and hungry. It would have been impossible to try to catch my friend who was somewhere among the thousands. I messaged her that I was heading back, quickly waved at the construction workers peeking through the different levels of their building (lucky bastards got a good view without leaving their workplace) and took off.

As I weaved through the crowd, conversations floated into my ears. A group of teenagers were excited that they had seen a red hat, green had and squealed when one girl announced that she had seen Prince Charles. Of course, she meant Phillip but who cares, she saw him! An middle-aged woman was telling her friend that some people had fainted from the heat. An old man holding his wife's hand was making his way through prams and people, yelling "woman with a baby, woman with a baby". His wife might have been a "baby" to him but he didn't look like a woman to anyone. The Victoria Bridge was filled with barely moving people. The 3-minute walk across it took me 15 but I finally made it. Not before I heard one last comment from 2 young women - "Next time, we should get here at 7 in the morning, with blankets and deck chairs, so we can get a good view". I almost felt ashamed for wondering if it was worth coming this time. 

Ding Dong Wake Up

In an article I was reading recently, the writer talked about how much of precision is involved in a chef's job. He has to come up with a really good dish, as quickly as he can and he cannot afford to make mistakes. He cannot afford to have bad days. He cannot afford to slip up on time or taste. He has to be perfect and efficient every hour of his work. 

That got me thinking. I've always believed that being a computer professional is probably the easiest and least risky job. That's probably why they are available at the rate of a dime a dozen too. You can screw up, get pulled up for it and then you get on with your job. At worst, you lose your job and find another one. The worst you can affect is mucking up a client's figures. Money? Inventory? How harmful can it be? Compare it with the job of doctors who have a patient's life in their hands, builders, even tattoo artists... they have to get it right at first attempt every time. The repercussions are huge and ugly!

Yet, I've noticed how non-computer professionals complain a lot less than the so-called "software developers". It could be because they are in a chosen line of work, unlike the mass of computer techies. 

Stand back and look around you. As the cliche goes, stop to smell the roses. A computer job is probably a lot less precise and stressful than the others. If you disagree, you are probably one of those who take more stress unto themselves than is necessary. If you don't turn up at work tomorrow, the impact is minimal. 

I took a half hour out to make a few phone calls today. Forgot that I was at work, forgot the people around me, forgot the 'issues' I was trying to resolve. There's nothing like chatting up an old friend and exchanging gossips. It is one of the most beautiful experiences of life. Hearing a voice from the good old days and laughing a lot, it blows away the stress of the day like it was nothing. 

Bzzz Bzzz

The one bad thing about gossip is how caught up you can get in it. Sometimes, you get so lost that even the most workaday things appear bizzare. I try to avoid it but some of them are just too much fun to ignore. 

The worst kind of gossip is the one at workplace, where you hate your manager and possibly all your teammates. It's so rampant that you hear it wherever you go. Friends, strangers alike unload their rants on you and vice versa. Coffee rooms, water-cooler, at lunch, down the corridors, just about everywhere... if there is a group of people, they're probably ratting on someone they hate at work for the unfair treatment meted out to them. Funny how everyone is treated unfairly, so who is actually handing out the treatment? The happy ones?

I've been idle and wanting for work, for about 3 days now. Numerous coffee breaks, long lunches and some stop-at-my-desk conversations later, I find myself wishing I had work to do! It's all so negative, so boring. I woke up this morning, decided that I was going to have fun. From now on, there will only be good gossip. (Just finished an email to a couple of friends telling them how much I hate.... that doesn't count, does it? Oh well!)

Time to go to work. I'm an hour late, at the moment. Be another hour before I get in. How does it matter? It does, because my manager... STOP! Phew! Close call! Better run...