Years ago, the buddies and I discussed the most ridiculous road trips imaginable. True boundary busters, like flying around the world for the weekend, showing up at work on Monday, and when somebody asked, “What did you do this weekend?,” responding with, “Well, me and the boys flew around the world, with pit stops in … .” We let the around-the-world-in-a-weekend trip idea slide, but we began to focus on another that fit the bill for ridiculousness – flying to Australia for a concert. Just a concert. Fly “down under,” hit the gig and fly back. We joked about how we’d be cocktailing at SFO ahead of time, then hopping…