As our plane dove out of the clouds, the window view was just as bleak-- rain. Ingrid and I arrived in the sunshine state in a drizzle. A precursor to the flood that was quickly gripping the homes of western Queensland and eventually the metropolis of Brisbane. A week later and our flight would have been cancelled due to the lack of a runway.
Usually, I'd take pity on a city that was about to be hit by the stresses of mother nature in rage, but from the start, Brisbane never let me take that stance. Disdain, not pity, seized me.
After a stressful start into the city, Australians drive on the wrong (read:left) side of the road; Ingrid and I treated ourselves with some decent pub food and then combed the city for activities. Nothing. The town was dead. We did what we could in any city really, we drank wine, watched a movie and woke with the sun to make our escape.
That's what Brisbane was for me. A city of little to do, but to get out.
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