My Adventure Down Under

I was packed and downstairs with my luggage at 5:00am. Everyone was instructed to place their luggage outside their door by 5:30 am with bus departure at 6:30am. Both buses arrived and the one bellman on duty and Jim both started going floor by flooor bringing luggage outside. I counted and marked them for confirmation with the passengers. We left the hotel at 6:30 a.m. on the dot and arrived at the airport at 7:00 a.m. Based on the earlier confusion of departure, we hired 3 men to meet us there with the carts and load them. We instructed passengers to wait on the bus and when their luggage was loaded on a cart, we would call them off the bus one by one and they can roll it into the ticketing line.

As I feared, the departure area sidewalk was jammed. It was very difficult to load the luggage, match it up with the golf bags. Then in the middle of everything we were trying, the trolly company came by to fill the trolley machines. I asked them to wait but all I got was a stare. Then the passengers got impatient and started getting off on their own. It was a bit more of a controlled chaos, but not by much. Eventually everyone had their luggage including me and we got in the line. The lines were very short and everyone was checked in and on their way to security in 30 minutes—all except me.

Remember when I told all the passengers about the carry on allowances, 15 pounds and that’s it. Well, I asked about my briefcase and they said it would not clear security so I would have to check it. “The charge for the extra checked bag will be $60 and you will need to go to the next BUILDING to pay that, then return to the line to obtain your boarding pass.” The next BUILDING? You have got to be kidding me. I had no choice, Jim was handling the rest of the passengers to security, so I started walking. I had to go literally to another building but at least there was no line. I paid the money and asked the agent if there was anyone to avoid standing in line again. Fortunately, he said to go to the service desk and they would issue the pass.

It worked and I sailed through security. I arrived at the gate and turns out I was the only one who got stopped. They all had a great laugh about that one. The real reason they didn’t get stopped is they were all traveling on a business or first class ticket and they get to have 2 bags.

We boarded the Air New Zealand flight and departed on time to ChristChurch. It was 3.5 hour flight. So many people said to me they thought New Zealand was right next to Australia. Surprise!!

There was no fog, no delays, like Sue had two days before. This was great! We exited our plane at the same time several other wide body jets from Asia did. OMG. Immigration was a sea of people. There were no lines. I knew there would be stantions eventually but for now, it was a horde. I took a deep breath and thought “we’re in big trouble.” We waited 30 minutes and barely moved.

Did I mention we had a one hour connecting time. Forgot to say that I think.

At this point the passengers began to look at me and ask me simple questions like “are we going to make it?” “what do we do if we don’t make it?” “why aren’t you up at the front of the line telling them we need to get thorugh.” Fortunately, I had spent 48 hours with ½ of these people and they trusted me. I said it would be fine and they started passing the word.

Meanwhile, our ground agent Frank was calling me. He kept asking me where we were in line. I kept saying “where we were 5 minutes ago.” Sue called from New Zealand and she was calling the airlines trying to get us fast tracked. Frank was working on our behalf in the outer hall.

I told the passengers that we had the option of traveling by coach to the resort or spending the night in a hotel and reticketing the following morning. What I didn’t tell them was it was 8 hours on a bus and the city was sold out because of the PGA and Rugby. I kept a smile on my face and began texting Frank and Sue things like “high anxiety in here” “help us!”.

Finally, several passengers said to me “why don’t you go talk with someone about this?” I explained that the only people I could reach from here were immigration people and they don’t care about you , the airlines or your flight. We had people on the outside working on our behalf and they have a better chance of success. I also told them that the New Zealand government doesn’t look kindly on US tour operators working over here anyway. In fact Penny, on cruise #1, was detained and warned at the airport to never try to enter on a pleasure visa, and that next time she should apply for and get a work visa, which is nearly impossible. So I told them to keep quiet and they agreed that was best.

All of a sudden, two Air New Zealand supervisors appeared at the immigration lines and were asked the large group of passengers waiting there who was their tour leader. It took them about 2 seconds to give me up. Not only did they point me out, they loudly said “she’s in charge, she’s the tour leader of our cruise.!” OMG. Traitors! I thought for sure I was on my way back to North Carolina. It was just like the scene in Invasion of the Body Snatchers when she thinks Donald Sutherland is not one of them, and he points at her and a horrible noise emits from his mouth!

Turns out Frank and Sue pushed enough buttons to get things rolling for us, literally. The supervisor said “we are holding your plane for you but you must run, all of you, with your luggage.” I quickly told everyone and we were off. Immigration took 10 seconds for a stamp, and we ran for the luggage area. Let me make this clear: they were running. Supervisors were running. They had already pulled luggage off the belt and all we had to do was put it on cart—if we had a cart! I ran all around looking for some and even a security guard with guns was running to help me. I was tossing golf clubs like they were loaves of bread (super human strength in a crisis!) and everyone was out but me (again). I failed to unload my m&m’s in the amnesty bin. They are strict about food being brought in and it's a $200 on the spot fine. He looked at my candy and I said “look, I really need those to make it through this.” “He said, "from the looks of things, I think you do. Go ahead.” Customs looked at each golf shoe, we rescanned our bags, and came out the arrivals door.

Frank and his staff were waiting and grabbed everyone’s carts and started running. The passengers were running. Ladies in cute shoes ready for the opening reception were running. Men with bad hips were running. Frank waited for me and offered to push me on the cart with my luggage! No need, so I sprinted to the luggage recheck area. They had a team of crew members grabbing our luggage and shoving it into the luggage conveyor. No tags, no looks, no matching up anything, Then the Air New Zealand supervisors began running again. (In hindsight, I think they learned this from their sheep herding dogs. Not one passenger refused to run.)

We ran all the way from gate 1 to gate 11, showed our boarding pass, I got a huge bear hug from Frank, and then walked in a downpour outside to our prop plane. We boarded and they closed the door and started the engines before we were seated. We couldn’t find storage for everyone's carry-ons so we passed them down the aisle, over our heads to the rear of the plane (where we entered) and the last person, me, stuck them anywhere they would fit. The plane was rolling and I was still stowing luggage. I sat down and we were airbourne about 3 minutes later.

OMG.

There was a huge cry of relief and a round of applause for ourselves! There were smiles all around but everyone was exhausted. When they passed out the complimentary water, I didn’t know whether to drink it or pour it over my head!

It was a 50 minute flight to Queenstown, mostly above the clouds. Then about 10 minutes to landing we dropped down and we were in the mountains of The Remarkables, flying delicately between mountains on both sides. It was very windy so it was gliding more than flying, lots of turns, banks as we came down the pass. Everyone was commenting how scary it was, lots of chatter, until we dropped below the clouds. Then silence.

It was unbelievably beautiful. The only other time I have felt this way was the first time I saw the Alps. It was just like television, movies, books. Magnificent. There was no talking. Not a word. Everyone was just stunned at the majesty of the area.

Turns out there are no nighttime flights in/our of Queenstown because of the mountains so you have to take off in time to land before dark. Smart! We landed, taxied to the terminal, and deplaned to get our luggage.

Another thing I didn’t tell them passengers was in my sprint to the finish line (just like The Amazing Race!) I was told we were 450 kilos over on luggage. Some would not be going with us and would be on a cargo plane to Invercargill, another city on the coast. It would then be trucked 3 hours to the resort. Who cares! These people just don’t want to switch hotels and fly again tomorrow.

None of the golf clubs arrived and 5 people had missing luggage. No worries though! We were met at the airport by Heidi, our German tour guide, and Jose, our Portugal tour guide. Both have been with Kalos for a couple of years and were already on the job with the luggage. We were transported to the resort, got our room keys, and hurriedly went to the opening reception.

Sue introduced the staff and when she introduced me as the staff person traveling with the Melbourne folks, I got a round of applause. The story had already been told and it seems I was to receive all the glory. I’ll take it!

Dinner was great and we had a traditional Maori tribe greeting. Similar to Samoa and Hawaii, the indigenous tribes use dance and song, but try to be very fierce in their facial expressions and the body paintings. It was very cool!

I had several people come to the staff table at dinner to thank me for my hard work and to tell Sue that I was the calm they all needed. I think they were just scared of my muscle and brawn after seeing me tossing those golf clubs about!

I unpacked and finally went to bed at 1:30 a.m. I had to be at breakfast a 7am and then a full day of golf for the passengers. I just hope they put me somewhere I can sit in the sun and rest!

Next time we fly direct!

Did I mention that the guy's seat in front of me was broken? Surely I mentioned that as soon as we reaching crusing altitude he reclined his seat right into my lap. It reclined so severely that the flight attendant had to ask him to go forward a bit in order to serve my drink. Fortunately for me, I think it was too far back for him to see his in-seat video screen so it turned out not to be a problem.

Menu's were distributed along with a handy timeline of what would be happening throughout the 15 hours, i.e. meals, snacks, hot towels, crying babies, turbulence, etc.... The choice of coc-au-vin or tilapia was revealed along with a list of the beverages. NOW we are talking about some real service here. Free beverages. Free. Did I mention free wine, liquor, etc... In fact the only beverage you could not obtain quickly was water! Unexplainable rationing on the water. I was eager to comply, so I drank wine.

I chose the fish. I had fish at LAX prior to departure, consuming my monthly intake of sodium in one sitting, but I thought the on-board fish with sugar snaps would sit well. Besides I was already consuming "vin" so coc au vin was overkill.

For a meal that had been cooked, frozen, stored, transported, and reheated, it was not that great. I ate the bread and drank more wine.

FINALLY, the on-board entertainment system was working. Ironically, just as I pushed the button to choose a movie, the reading light above my seat illuminated. Nice timing.

Lots of movies to choose from. I tried Michael Clayton. Could barely stay awake so I switched to 3:10 to Yuma. You know my like of Russell Crowe. It was very good. Very reminiscent of High Noon suspense and great action. At the end, I was ready to get some sleep.

With my ear plugs, headphones, whiplash collar and night shades in place, I began the 3 hour cramp-and-shift routine. Misery. It not only frustrates you physically, it gets to you mentally. I just wanted to get down on the floor and sleep - - but wait, that has been prohibited. It all becomes painfully clear to me. Sleeping on the floor should have been a viable option for economy passengers, a last resort to avoiding embolisms. Quantas banned the practice instead of charging extra for it. A missed revenue opportunity.

After 3 hours, several passengers around me had given up on sleep. I looked at the flight tracker and was very excited to see only 9 more hours left!

Oh, forgot to tell you I kept ringing the call button with my butt. The remote control device was stored in the side of the arm rest. After my a** called the attendant 4 times, I finally removed the control and let it dangle down in front of my seat. Also, whenever I switched from a movie to the menu, the volume reset itself to the loudest setting--in Chinese.

Let's watch another movie. The Heartbreak Kid. Entertaining, funny ending.

Let's watch another movie. The Invasion. Remake, more action than original.

Let's watch---nope, can't do another one. I resorted to staring into space. I just don't care anymore. Living just doesn't hold that special appeal by this time.

It was at this point that I realized my headphone case and Ipod are missing. I searched all around me to no avail. The man across from me noticed my search and said "Did you loose something?" I said "yes, my headphone case." He said "is it like this one?" and realized his was missing also. He started looking. I remembered my mini flashlight and proceeded to shine my light underneath sleeping passengers in my area. He borrowed it. The guy in front of me offered to search also so he borrowed it. It wasn't that he was being helpful. I know he was desperate for something to do just like me.

"Here's one!" he exclaimed. We both looked at the case hoping it was ours. With Indiana Jones suspense, we carefully opened the case to discover it was the other guy's case, not mine. Collectively, the treasure hunters decided I would have a better chance of finding it when we landed.

Sudden onset of turbulence. The captain announces "would all passengers and crew return immediately to their seats." That's all he said. Click. Microphone off. The Quantas crew hurry down the aisle to their seat and strap in. I might be sleepy and miserable, but I know a panic when I see one.

Then it starts. Simple at the beginning. Then bone jarring slamming into air pockets. My wine nearly spilled at one point. Everyone wakes up including the babies. Ten minutes later it was over. No announcement just a simple "ding" of the seat belt light being deactivated. Pavlov's dog would have loved the sound as much as we did. Ding was good. Ding is our friend.

A couple more bathroom breaks, some candy, cereal and juice and we are ready to land. Again, I just don't care at this point. My will to breathe was almost gone.

Mercifully, we slammed the runway in Melbourne. One would think with 15 hours to prepare, the captain could do a better job.

I began my "have you seen my headphone case" interrogation of those around me. They were searching, even the bin police fellow behind me (secretly and silently I had pondered whether he had intentionally swiped my case when I went to the bathroom just to prove a point about bin usage). Then the Italian fellow next to the window said "is this your case?" Eureka! It was next to the fusilage all the time.

Gathering my items, the bin policeman offered to get my luggage down for me. I accepted, just to show him there were no hard feelings. As we are exiting, we come to the first door and a wheelchair is blocking it. The attendant made us walk through the business and first class cabins to exit. It was like driving from Hollywood to BelAir. There were gleaming fully horizontal bed/seats. Blankets, full size pillows, and probably all the water you could drink. Someday....

So we lined up for immigration. They were processing people very quickly so when it was my turn I eagerly stepped to the window. Scan the passport. View the screen. Frown. Oh please no, not the frown. Turn to call the supervisor. For the love of God, not the supervisor. "Please step aside to the red flag." NOOOOOOOO! So I wait for the supervisor all the while fearing body scans, unshaded lightbulbs, cigarette scorched formica tables, hours of Crocodile Dundee reruns. The supervisor approaches, smiles and says, "it appears that you have the incorrect visa." I'm so sorry about that. Which one should I have?" "You have a pleasure visa and have declared on your immigration card handed out on the plane you are here for business." "Well, I must confess that, at the time, after 15 hours in coach, putting a check mark beside the word "pleasure" just seemed wrong to me." She laughed, and said "I understand. No problem, just remember next time to make them match." Whew!

Rescan the luggage to enter the country, get smelled by a petite beagle, front line duty for customs, and into the van to the airport. Raining but short lived. Rooms not ready. Lunch. Room ready. Overcome urge to flop on the bed for the next 12 hours. Shower. Change. Taxi to golf course for meeting. Taxi back. Room service. Stay up as long as possible and crash at 10:00 a.m., 41 hours since you took the dogs out to pee in North Carolina.

There is no way I could have marked "pleasure" on that card!

Today the adventure begins!

First goal for the day was to avoid the $50 charge for overweight luggage (glad life doesn't charge me $50/day for being overweight). Their system includes a self serve kiosk that stops dead in it's tracks when you request confirmation of an international destination. The screen states "Wait HERE" for a representative. Don't move, don't even think about moving out of the way, stay right there. So I did. Nothing. Nada. Only after everyone within 500 yards of the checkin desk had been handled did a representative ask me what was wrong.

She walked to the machine, inserted her key, then magically it completed the process allowing me to check in. Then I was instructed to bring my luggage to the desk. The moment of truth! While getting my luggage on the scales, I asked if she would check them through to Australia and she said "certainly!" Feigning great surprise and overwhelming gratitude, I proceeded to compliment her all the while pushing my luggage past the scales and onto the stationary rim on the otherside nearest the belt. I even said "Can you reach the handle from there?" being the helpful passenger. Both bags were tagged and I was handed a boarding pass. Success!

Second goal of the day: Carry on 4 separate items, clearly in defiance of the one carryon and one personal item limitation. As I approached the TSA agent, I said "I need your help today." He said "what can I do for you?" I said "I know there are regulations for carryons, but I am facing 25 flight hours, 36 awake hours and loosing an entire day of my life to get to Australia. I really need all of the items you see here. And it's really just 1 item per flight leg. It's survival gear!" He laughed and smiled and said that my need was greater than most travelers today and that it was ok.

The first flight was uneventful, on time to DFW. I read 1/2 of my first paperback and wondered which flight Sue was taking since she wasn't on this one.

We landed at DFW and I emerged from the jetway into a sea of chaos. Chicago was shut down due to multiple feet of snow and flights were diverted, planes and crews were stranded, and everyone was trying to get a seat on a flight going in their direction. My flight wasn't listed on the monitors, so I located a lone gate attendance who looked up the gate for me. My flight was delayed 2 hours and had 30 people on the stand by list. I managed to get a seat and as the minutes went by, the crowd grew larger. The offers of riches and perks began. Vouchers, meals, upgrades, and papal dispensations. They managed to get everthing sorted out and we were on our way to LAX.

We landed at LAX and I made a quick change to the international terminal, queued up at Quantas for a boarding pass and went upstairs for dinner. Sue was about 1 hour behind me and by the time I called home, she was on her way to join me in the bar for dinner. Then the long wait began.

6 hours till takeoff. We decided to go to the gate and locate electrical outlets to charge our computers, phones and ipods. In my increasingly tired mode, I forgot to extract my official quart baggie of gels and liquids from my luggage. OH NO!!! Would it be confiscated? Would I be "red flaged"? Something worse? Nope, nothing, nada. They didn't even notice it in the luggage. Nice work TSA.

If you have never been in the international gate areas at LAX, you have missed a stark, dingy, under construction area, with exposed wiring, out of service moving sidewalks, and temperatures kept similiar to those of a meat locker. We managed to pass the time taking turns walking up and down between the TWO, yes 2, duty free kiosks. I memorized the flavors of Beef Jerkey for sale, bought some peanuts and Life Savers and tried to stay warm.

Finally, boarding! The Quantas agent gave a stern lecture and warning for all: there will be two lines, first class and every one else. The everyone else line would snake through the seating area around the wall, would be single file, and no one would be allowed to cut into the line. The orderly queue process began and 300+ people began to board. The rich folks went either forward in the plane or up the stairs. The rest of us went to our right into steerage.

When I arrived at my seat, the storage above was full. I spotted available space in the bin behind and lifted the briefcase up for storage. The man seated behind my seat said very loudly "that's the space for this row lady." I pretended to ignore him and added the camera bag to the area. He then said "well, I guess you are going to do it anyway." I sat down next to the Italian couple and assembled my entourage of survival items (more to follow on that). The two seatmates for the row behind me arrived and their bin was also full (now that I had disobyed the ruling by the self appointed bin steward) and what happened? The bin steward rose to this feet and offered to help them find an open bin for their luggage!! Against my instincts, I didn't make a comment. I guess I didn't look worthy of his help.

The next instructions by the Quantas drill sargent was "there will be no sleeping on the floor on this flight." Now this was my first Quantas flight, but I can ony imagine what these flights looked like BEFORE this directive was added to the litany. I was releaved that I didn't have to step over snoozing bodies litering the aisles and galleys.

We were off! I readied myself for 15 hours in the seat, while anticipating viewing the 60+ on demand movies, cds, and television shows. Or perhaps I would just read my novel. Then came the dreaded announcement: "we are experiencing difficulty with our in-flight entertainment system." NOOOOOOO! Ok, don't panic yet. She said she was rebooting the system so it will probably be just fine. In the meantime you can just read---if your light above your seat was working. No go on the light. Out came the book light and we took off.

Back to the survival gear. After careful consideration and several lengthy flights of experience, I had accumulated quite an arsenal. Here is a semi-comprehensive list: blanket, neck pillow (actually looks like a whiplash collar, not attractive, but fashion doesn't play a role in 15 hours of economy flying), second pillow for back, headphones, earplugs, eye covers, extra jacket, paperback, magazines, candy, water, air purifier, eye drops, nose spray, glacier water spray for face, chapstick, hand lotion, fuzzy socks, jet lag pills, advil pm, and rolaids.

more to come....[quote]