Everyone had gotten off the plane apart from an old, movement impaired lady and a similarly static, but way more impressively wizened old aborigine guy, and I was very confused. For a moment, I thought maybe Immigration Lady #2 had caught up with me and ordered a forced landing in the outback, but after I'd asked the air steward twice, and he'd realised that both I, and his country's way of doing things was a little backwards, and that to have both behemoths of idiocy meet at 7:45am would end in tears, he gently explained that we were at Gove, that I would have to 'hop off' the plane, and then 'hop back on again'. Quite random.
Thankfully, however, in Gove, NT, they have the good sense to qualify that the town is named after a pilot, rather than an apparently useless Education Secretary, just in case there was going to be confusion.
Is there even a town here? I don't know.
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