Today in Perth I ran into a friend at the airport - he was in town for Stereosonic as was I, yet we only managed to cross paths at Perth airport. Probably because we didn't make solid plans and 35,000 other people at the festival slimmed our chances of a random encounter somewhat. But there are only so many flights back to Brisbane on a Monday evening.

Anyhow, we were chatting away and he made a comment about the long, cramped flight (he's the second tallest person I know) back to Brisbane. I didn't think much of it other than I'm lucky I have stumpy legs but as the plane took off I remembered I'd paid for extra leg space on this flight, and at check-in the machine wouldn't let me select a seat over the wing. I didn't kick up a fuss because I can stretch my legs fairly well in a regular seat and thought they'd overbooked but then on the flight only 4 of the 12 extra leg space seats were taken.

Soon as the seat belt sign came off I became one of those needy (I asked politely) and demanding (for what I'd paid for) customers (I really don't like to bother people). The flight attendant looked at me like I was loopy when I wanted my seat changed then said I was fine to stay put. But all made sense when I explained I wanted to give it to my friend who's quite tall. Soon as he stood up to move seats she could see why. He's the type of tall that makes everyone assume he's a basketball player - though he's not. He's a rad dude I worked with at Culture Kings back in the day.

Anyhow, this is the long story of how I am a dork who spent the rest of the flight feeling happy that Justin would be as comfortable as he can be on a 5+ hour flight home. Other people's happiness is my favourite high.