My seat: I was suspicious of the pre-flight talk of "ergonomically-designed
slimline seats". Slimline? As in ... downsized and half-arsed? Happily not. Capacious and roomy.
Fellow passengers: Going by the exclamations of "Advanced Hair? Yeah Yeah!", most of the passengers were Australian. But beware of stereotypes. The Convict next to me - a young interior designer from Sydney - was lovely, smart as a whip and reading Anna Karenina.
How full? Chocker.
Entertainment: While my neighbour was reading one of the greatest novels ever written, I was watching Sly, Arnie, Chuck Norris, Bruce Willis and the boys in The Expendables 2. Magnificently asinine. Though this wasn't a patch on the Qantas flight-safety vid. Starring several Australian cricketers, it's the all-time lamest example of the genre (even worse than Air NZ's Hobbity ones).
The service: Pretty good. No jokes about "fush & chups" or sheep.
Food and drink: Solid. There'd been a cock-up on the catering front, which meant this vegetarian had been left chewing his belt. However, the crew snaffled me some first-class fare to go with the rolls and cheese crackers. As for hydration, it's impossible to sate the thirst of 300 Australians, but the attendants did their best.
The toilets: Possibly because of the above-mentioned swilling, queues were lengthy. Still have no idea where everything goes after that ominous sucking sound.
Luggage: Heaps of space for my, erm, three carry-on bags.
The airport experience: Stuck at Sydney Airport for five hours, but scammed a pass to the Qantas Lounge where I had a shower and observed Australians in their natural habitat.
Would I fly this again? Yeah. Or should I say 'Yeah Yeah!'
Peter Malcouronne travelled as a guest of Azamara Club Cruises.
