My wonderful Dad shouted us plane tickets so I could attend the Emerging Writers Festival and he could hang out with Mr Almost-Six for a week. Win-win. Knowing I was heading off my gorgeous friend Chris Chartrand (stranded in whoop whoop Maine, USA) asked if I’d give him a chance to live vicariously (because hell – we all want to travel with a small child!)… here I am. Hi Chris!
The fire in the lounge room is burning (something I miss terribly living in Brisbane and without the means to have a fire) and I’ve got a red wine close at hand. Mr Almost-Six is playing Playstation with my Dad and all is good in the world.
The only weird, noteable item from today was the fire alarm going off in the QANTAS departures lounge for more than five minutes. The alarm is loud – beyond annoying and to the point where you think your brain is going to explode. When it went on for more than 30 seconds people began to rouse from their seats, shop keepers and barristas wandered out from their post and stood looking in a worried, though vacant fashion. Mr Almost-Six looked up, with a serious look on his face and asked if there was something really wrong? I told him it was OK – but I knew alarms don’t go off like that for no reason. Especially for an extended length of time.
We walked in the opposite direction looking for somewhere to eat and to get as far away from the alarms as possible. While we were waiting to collect our food order, a voice came over the speaker to say a fire alarm had gone off and people were to prepare for the possibility of evacuation. It was like the CW fairy had siddled up to me whisperings “I heard you’re writing about an airport… and travelling today!”
Turned out it was a false alarm. But it was an interesting study in psychology. I wonder how long it will take, how many years, before we’re totally comfortable in being in public spaces in a potential emergency? Or were we already like that before 9/11? Is it only now we think the absolute possible worst?
Catastrophes beside… the look of joy on the face of my Dad and Mr Almost-Six is just magical (I wish I could bottle it up) when they came together in the arrivals lounge. There is something about seeing my Dad as a Grandfather which had given me a new appreciate of family – and the ever changing nature of it.
Until later… I’m going to snuggle up on the couch with my book and wine, as the crackle of the fire competes with the engine revs from the PlayStation (did I mention Mr Almost Six is in 7th heaven at the moment?)