Our concern over inflicting other passengers with our children during the flight evaporated when what appeared to be an entire wing of a Juvenile detention centre was trooped by to sit somewhere behind us, once on the plane. The trip down to Melbourne was largely uneventful - once exiting the domestic terminal, I began re-thinking my short-sleeved shirt.
We jumped on the Skybus, which took its moniker seriously - belting along to the City. A very elderly lady took a seat next to Jen and Josh - her enthusiasm over his cuteness paling somewhat after he generously coughed in her direction.
The bus terminal was within a couple of blocks of where we were staying, so we embarked with our luggage in-tow, antarctic winds greeting us at each cross-street. We had to negotiate crowds of folk heading the other way, belatedly realising there was some local event on at Etihad Stadium (AFL I think they call it).
Joshie was pleased to be somewhere that didn't involve a lap or a stroller seat.
I took a peek in the mini-bar, and to my dismay discovered a local beverage.
