Leavin' on a jet plane

I’m getting on a plane tomorrow night. Here’s why I’m freaking out:

Leaving the country is a big deal for Australians because the rest of the world is really freakin far away. People in Europe can go to Paris for the weekend. It would take an Aussie most of the weekend just to get to Paris. Because of the travel time, it’s not worth going anywhere just for a short trip, which is why I’ll be on the other side of the world for the next five weeks. It’ll be my third time out of the country, and since Melbourne is my heart and my soul and my favourite place on the face of the earth, I don’t know if I can be away from it for that long.

To make leaving Melbourne just that little bit harder, to do something awesome, I’ve got to give up something awesome. It’s Melbourne International Comedy Festival time and I’m leaving Melbourne. Woe is me.

To summarise my relationship with the comedy festival, it’s better than Christmas. It’s like some kind of Super Christmas. Over the years, I’ve laughed so hard that I pulled a muscle. I’ve met some awesome people. I’ve been pulled up on stage. I’ve seen a well known comedian strip in a public space in the middle of the afternoon. I’ve thrown up in a pub toilet at 8:30 in the morning. Clearly, it’s the highlight of the year.

Because I was so shattered about missing the comedy festival, I’ve tried to cram in as many LOLs as I can before Friday. I went to the Gala. I went to the opening night show. Tonight is the only night I can go to regular shows, so I’m seeing two. ‘But Lauren,’ you ask, ‘with working all week and going out at night, how have a found time to pack?’ I haven’t. I have, however, managed to find plenty of time to panic.

The panic isn’t just because of my lack of packing skills. Oh no, sir. I’ve been burned my international travel before, and what I learned last time was that you should never go to the other side of the world on your own and that airlines live to make your life miserable. I was so desperate to get home by the end of my last trip that while I was waiting for the plane to take off from Heathrow, I cried during a QANTAS ad. For the non-Australian people who haven't been exposed to the humble QANTAS ad, just know that they're shite. They send a bunch of children’s choirs out to well known locations around the world and get them to sing ‘I still call Australia home.’ It’s balls. But that day, it was the most sentimental and beautiful thing I'd ever seen and now I have to live the rest of my life being the person who cried over a QANTAS ad.

But no, I’m sure the trip will be awesome. Right? RIGHT?