Sydney, Australia, is a vibrant, sparkling city filled with warm, fun-loving, party-going people. There is a sense in Sydney that something terrifically fun could happen at any minute, maybe when you turn the next corner. For me, it is this sense of possibility, of sun-drenched optimism, that makes every day spent there so agreeable. I’ve had layovers that have consisted entirely of sitting in the Botanic Gardens, in the shadow of the Opera House, reading books and watching people walk by, and even on these, with no clubbing, no impossibly apple-cheeked men, there’s been that moment, while I’m shaving or putting on my uniform, where I’ve seriously considered quitting my job and staying on, telling Bobby and the rest of the crew, “Sorry, you’ll have to work back without me. This is my home
