We want the lifestyle of an international city ... without the crowds.

Last week I was booked on a Monday morning plane to Sydney for work. I chose the vaguely civilised 9.15am flight because early mornings do not agree with me. As we know, a trip to Tullamarine in peak hour requires strategic aforethought; I planned to leave home in East St Kilda at 7.15am, and given I had no luggage to check-in, arrive at the airport with enough time for a coffee strong enough to bring on cardiac arrhythmia in less hardy types and a read of the day’s news.

Maybe you can guess where this is heading? My battle plan was blown out by 15 minutes and so I found myself in a barely-moving cab on Queens Road, listening to a panel of radio personalities lacerating Australia’s cheating cricketers. My driver, Omar, was resourceful, though. He poked at the GPS — “these new ones tell us a lot more about what the traffic’s doing” — swerved around to St Kilda Road, zigzagged through the side streets of South Melbourne and cut back to Kings Way, bypassing the blockage. Figuring there was still just enough time for breakfast, I rushed into the Qantas domestic terminal to behold — all of Melbourne. That’s what it felt like.

Just another Monday at the airport ...

The queue at baggage security snaked to the terminal exit. A half hour passed. And then some. We watched the flights creeping up the monitor. I gave up hope of a caffeine hit, twitching in withdrawal. I nearly gave up hope of catching my plane until a staff member, his voice barely audible above the commotion, called for the Sydney 9.15am passengers to step forward.