Everything we call real is made of things that cannot be regarded as real.
– Niels Bohr
It’s a funny thing, my plane took off from Vancouver on Tuesday night – flew for fifteen hours, and I touched down in Sydney on Thursday morning. Someone stole a day.
The International Date Line is a strange thing, an arbitrary line where one side is Monday and the other is Tuesday. I looked it up.
It’s not straight. I’ll say so, it’s so crooked, it stole a day from me.
If you look it up, you’ll see it wiggles its way through the middle of the Pacific Ocean, dodging island groups and wending its way from pole to pole. I’d imagine it is quite carefully managed, it’s OK to have two nations separated by a day, but I’m sure you wouldn’t want your bathroom on Thursday and your kitchen in Friday, you’d never know when the sell-by date of anything was.
As my flight made its way to Sydney, I tried to work out if there was any advantage, any hack I could use to make the date change more advantageous.
However, I did all that thinking on Wednesday – and now it’s been stolen.