Trust me, I'm 300 pounds.

It's the end of a 37-hour Saturday.
Left Melbourne 945am.
Stopped in Auckland.
Missed the thumping that was the Grand Final Replay.
Beaten to two spare seats next to me by a kid who was barely big enough to fill one.
Managed to sleep a bit.
Watched 3 movies.
Ate pretzels and peanuts.
Through US Customs.
Transferred to the domestic terminal.
Marvelled at the simpleton trying to get a bottle of ice through LAX security.
'I know it's not more than 100ml of liquid now, but it will be in ten minutes, so you can't take it through', says the security officer.
Didn't stop a marvellously melodramatic diatribe from her though.
Such a dufus.
More pretzels.
More napping.
A wry neck.
Last leg of the plane sat in front of the most obnoxious man in the world*.
Arrived NYC 1005pm.
Taxi to hotel, arrived 1130pm.
Very glad to see this bed.
And the convenience store across the road for a late-night snack.
And the long warm shower.
Night...