If I’d collected a dollar from every well-wisher who’d said, “you must be excited about your trip” in the last six weeks, I could be traveling first class instead of ‘cattle’. The truth is – right now I’m a wee bit scared. Ow, who am I kiddin’, with less than 24 hours to go, I’m closer to terrified.
The bravado of the last six months is quickly eroding and revealing a big ol’ scaredy cat. What am I scared of most? Arriving bleary eyed in LA and jumping straight behind the wheel of car and hitting the freeway. I can do it – right? I’ll be fine once I get going – starting is the hardest part of anything, don’t you think? Worst-case scenario – I’m insured up to my eyeballs.
I do hope the good folks at Dollar Car Rentals have a red Mustang convertible waiting for me. Somehow I suspect ‘Mustang or similar’ will more than likely turn out to be a pea green Chrysler or something equally pedestrian, and blaring the Beach Boys “I wish they all could be California girls’ out of the stereo on Hollywood Boulevard won’t be nearly as much fun as I am anticipating. Should I casually insinuate that I’m a well-respected travel journo from Oz or a little-known soap star? Hmmm. 7.10pm, how much longer ‘til Packed to the Rafters? Waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting.
PS – today I turned the tables on tiny black Sam (sontite) with wheels that spin in every direction – and bought a bigger backpack. Ha, take that, packing challenge! ‘all my bags are packed, I’m ready to go…’ C’mon sing it with me…
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