Ferris wheels and falafel.

We get into Perth in the late afternoon. Southwestern coast of Australia—I am now probably as far from home as I’ve ever been. Get the rental van, drive to the hotel, check in. If there’s one basic part of touring that never gets any more tolerable, it’s airports. Expensive pseudo-gourmet food, poor design, long lines, trite formalities. It’s the epitome of the ‘hurry up and wait’ condition. You always have to get there early because a million things could go wrong, but more often than not your left sitting around for an hour with nothing to do but spend your money, and now they’ve trapped you! You begin to wonder if increased airport security measures were actually just a scam cooked up by businesses to get people in the airport for longer so they would spend more money. I think it was our UK drum tech Simon who said, on one particular morning last November when we found ourselves in a German airport at 4am with hours to spare: “I’m pretty sure hell is like being stuck forever in an airport.”

I get into my hotel room and feel like napping but I know I should exercise. I check out the fitness center which is decent, but I can’t quite motivate myself today. This is the whole problem with being hung-over. We haven’t really done anything today, but I try to excuse myself mentally with some kind of travel fatigue. Maybe that’s fair, maybe it’s total bullshit. I take the middle ground and head out on an exploring walk. Down to the bay, walking along the deep blue water as the slowly setting sun nearly flattens me. The sun here feels much stronger than it does at home. The whole scene is very romantic, which is actually kind of awful when you have no one to share it with. But I try to appreciate it in nonetheless and let myself just slow down and take it in.

I walk past a series of piers that seem to be the hot spot when it comes to Saturday night dining in downtown Perth. The sun has been setting pretty late down here, like 9-10PM, so even though it’s still very bright out it’s already around 7PM and tons of people are gathering for drinks and dinner. Couples streaming in across a park, casually but nicely dressed in that steamy summer evening sort of way—a few more buttons unbuttoned, a little more tanned skin showing, flip flops, boat shoes, no socks. Some hold hands and stroll, some walk briskly, late for a rendezvous with friends. There is one of those oddly placed downtown ferris wheels that no one ever rides towering over the scene.

I stumble upon this awesome looking Indian buffet place that seems to be run on a ‘pay what your heart desires’ concept. I read over the sign out front quickly, and it seems to have something to do with charity and religious volunteers. I don’t follow the concept completely, but it seems like the place has been around for a while, so it must work on some level. Now I love me some buffets, and this places was even 100% vegetarian! But I’m not that hungry, and there’s a wicked long line, so I don’t eat. On some level I’m actually kind of proud of myself. I tend to have a problem thinking about food without actually stuffing my face, so I’m trying to work on it. Walking through a grocery store and not buying anything or checking out a menu and moving on is tough sometimes, but I really, really want to be better at it. My brain is all fucked when it comes to food and it sucks sometimes.

Back to hotel, a couple beers in the hotel bar w/ The Ting Tings crew and an extended search with Ryan for something reasonably priced but decent for dinner. The best we can do at 10PM on a Saturday night is a Kebab place. For a major city this place really shuts down early! I eat my falafel and we head back. Fuck it, I’m done with today. Back to my room to read or write or watch TV or just sleep.