Saying that Australians are Friendly is an Understatement

Tuesday, the 13^th of May, I flew LA with my Dad at 11:30 a.m. Before my flight to Fiji, we wanted to spend a day in LA together. We rented a cool car that actually turned out to be a bit uncomfortable, we went to the LA Temple visitor’s center and then did baptisms (which was probably one of the best/most spiritual that I’ve ever done in my life), we went to dinner and ate Mexican food (love me some good Mexican food), we hung out at Downtown Disney (it was oh so painful being so close to Disneyland…yet so far [I make Disney pun]), then we went to “The Citadel” shopping outlets and hung out there for a bit. It was a very lovely day. And then I had to say goodbye. Saying goodbye to Dad was so dang hard, I was so grateful that he’d traveled with me to LA, and then went through the trouble of parking and walking into the airport to help me get checked in. When I was waiting in line for security, I turned around constantly to see if my Dad was still there watching me, and he was. That was so comforting. I can’t imagine how hard it was for my Mom and Dad to say goodbye to me and send their petite child to Fiji. No big deal.

I got on the airplane and sat down, and then a handsome Australian man sat down next to me. I was thinking, “Woah, I’m never this lucky.” Haha…lucky. It was an interesting sort of lucky. This guy, named Daniel, started talking to me a lot. He talked about his 3 week trip in America that he loved so much, and he loved Americans, except he thought people in New York were a little rude, and then he talked about how Australians are really friendly. He went to Disneyland and loved it. He asked me at one point if I smoked, and I said no, and he said he doesn't smoke either. Good for him! He then mentioned that his parents were Dutch. I took this opportunity to say, “Oh, I have a brother serving a mission in the West Indies, and he’s speaking Dutch and French!” He asked if it was a volunteer trip type of thing, and then I told him it was for my church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. A Christian church? Yes. He then encouraged me to watch a documentary about animals (he had watched it on the way here and said it was really good), so I watched it. 

Halfway into the movie, Daniel got tired and laid his head on his tray with his pillow. I guess the space was too small or something, because a little later, he decided we were good enough friends for him to put his head practically on my lap. Or maybe he didn’t know this was happening because he was way sleepy…or maybe he didn’t know this was happening because he had a glass of some sort of alcohol…maybe a couple of glasses. I was uncomfortable, but I didn’t know what to do without being rude, “Excuse me, sir, will you please not be so close? This is awkward.” I didn’t say that. I moved a little at one point, he woke up and apologized , then DID IT AGAIN, except this time he was completely, no question on my lap. No joke. A flight attendant came by and asked if Daniel was cold and needed another blanket, and I said that I thought he was fine, the flight attendant then asked if he was my husband, and I said, “No, he’s just a stranger.” BAHAHA. I think it confused the flight attendant. Eventually, Daniel woke up again and got off my lap, I took that opportunity to return Daniel’s pillow to him, then get something out of my bag, pull my blanket over me, and then try to go to sleep. This worked-ish. He still put his head on the edge of his tray, pretty close to my lap. Australians are REALLY really rEALly friendly. 

The next morning, I woke up (like I did 50 times during the night) and started reading my Book of Mormon, so that when he woke up, he would see me reading the Book of Mormon and ask about it. But he didn’t. After I read my Book of Mormon to my heart’s content, I decided to write a note with information about the LDS church, the website, the Book of Mormon, and then I bore a quick testimony, and signed it, “Your friend on the airplane, Allyssa”. As we left the plane, I needed to claim luggage, he didn’t, so I gave him the note. He said, “You wrote me a note?” I told him it was information about my church and such. He was probably thinking, “I don't remember asking you for information about your church.” He said thank you and that he would read it later.

Anyway, moral of the story is, even if he thinks I’m a little crazy, maybe one day, he’ll meet missionaries or something and then he’ll be able to say, “I met a crazy girl, who is a member of your church, on an airplane.”

I'm trying to figure out pictures. I can't upload those as often because they take up too much information or something, and the internet here is weird.

P.S. The weather here is cooking me alive. I am literally only using a sheet as a blanket.
P.P.S. These posts are written fairly quickly to let my friends and family know what's going on, so I know it might lack in writing quality, but whatevs.
P.P.P.S. It's really relaxing to wake up here in the morning. Birds are chirping, our handy-dandy electric fan is blowing in my face, I go out into the living room and start writing this blog post, and then construction starts :JAB:LFSDN>FK SDPFJSLKEFNSDF. If I wanted, I could run out of my living room and jump off the balcony (with epic music in the background, of course) and land on the construction vehicles.