I spent Thursday in Sydney on the 59th Floor of the MLC Center, trying to negotiate US visas for my wife and kids. Alas, the bureaucrats triumphed, with me unable to pay the required immigration bribe, because the consulate wouldn't accept my credit card, due to a single (1) failure of the card to swipe through the machine.
The lady behind the three layers of glass was entirely apathetic about my problem.
When I enquired as to why she didn't just enter the numbers manually, she replied with a sharp:
I was a little taken aback,but I figured no-one could be that rude intentionally, so I tried again:
"It's a credit card - you just need to enter the numbers on the front - just like over the phone"It seems I had just ran into an endless loop of error messages. There was nothing left for me to do but break...
So I returned, failed and dejected. I have to return next Thursday to try again.
But all wasn't lost - I did get to have a few beers with Fuzzy, and then before I left, I caught up with my brother, Grae, who's an (occasional ) papparazzi photographer in Sydney. To my surprise, on our way to the bar, we ran into Paulini, so he snapped a few shots and had a chat to her.
At the bar, The conversation was about the internet, cars that run on water, and the fickle and superficial nature of the cult of celebrity. (Turns out we were in the same place as where Barry Humphries socked a papparazzi photographer for taking his picture.)
After much hounding on my part, Grae finally agreed to start blogging. So all you celebrity stalkers, (and secret fans of magazines in doctors waiting rooms) should head over to his site and get the real story from behind the lens...