Boarding the metal bird at the cock-pit, my mind races with excitement, to finally see the Sydney Opera House and the famous Bondi Beach in which seems like ages. Walking down the narrow aisle, I settle in, and a lady, reeking with perfume, sits next to me with a huff. “Flying Solo?” I say, she nods and continues to read. Before long, a large jostling movement from outside impacted the plane, the lady beside me tenses, wide-eyed and open mouthed. I mutter reassurance, praying she won’t be like this throughout the whole flight. As time achingly goes by, I’m trapped in a cramp metal bird with the lady next to me mouthing off about her job, her daughter, anything really. She asks me questions about my family, my job, where I’m from and where I’m staying, which I answer politely but with uncertainty, I actually have no idea on where I’m going to stay. Sensing this, I guess, she offers me to stay at her place, “I hope it’s not too much trouble” I say, “none at all. Just follow me when we arrive at Sydney” she smiled.