Well, here I sit, safely ensconced in our Australian apartment after what can only be described as “The Gods of Travel Want you to STOP … Now”. OK, that might be a bit extreme, but I have had about 4 hours of sleep in the last 60 hours and it has made me a bit … what? Punchy? Bitchy? Grumpy? Sleepy? Stupid? Psycho? Raving? Heck – why don’t we say ALL OF THEM. Lori’s own version of the 7 dwarfs …
Got out of Houston fine and into LAX. BREEZED through security and off to figure out what gate my flight was leaving from. There are no display boards showing arrivals and departures for Qantas anywhere. Also, when you check in on line you don’t get the gate number – so it is sort of a guessing game. “Go Find Your Gate” by wandering and looking at the sign at each gate. Not so hard … to date it has only departed from two gates in terminal 6 – Gate 41 and Gate 48B. It has only (for me) departed from Gate 41 once and that was my first trip out so I am assuming a permanent change to Gate 48B. See … not so hard.
I wander past Gate 41 and snicker to myself wishing those on the plane GOOD LUCK!!! It was a SOLID MASS of kids ranging from ages 10 – 15 all in the same outfit and all SO SUPER DUPER EXCITED!!! Chaperones seemed light and I wondered what level of hell THAT was. Got to 48B and it listed Melbourne as the destination of the flight leaving from that gate. Odd. I started looking: 48A, 47, 46, hmmm, 45, 44, 43, …. Getting a little nervous … 42 – and no go – none were headed to Brisbane.
Nervously, I head back to Gate 41 – off by itself and look, for the first time, at the monitor showing the destination and flight number.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
But, well, yes and sit down dejectedly in an open chair.
The woman next to me sort of laughs and, well, yeah – what do you say … anyway – you can’t hear each other over the din. Had to go show my passport to the people at the desk since I had checked in online – needed to prove I was me - and the lady kindly offered to watch my bags while I did – thus also saving my seat which were hard to come by. I thanked her profusely and up to the desk I went. So nice of her.
I had an ulterior motive for going up to the desk. For some reason I could only get a seat at the front of the plane this flight and I usually pick the back so I can board first – ensuring that my bag full of computers and cameras would have space in the overhead bins. I was worried that I would not accomplish this in the front – getting on last – on a full flight. So … and I am not proud of myself – I pulled the invalid card – said my leg was in severe pain (true, but, then again – it always is). Said I was having trouble navigating my bags and ‘needed extra time to board’ – totally prepared to pull out pain prescriptions to back me up. I am so ashamed. She said that was fine and I slurked back to my chair but relieved that my bag was not going to be forced to be checked and manhandled by baggage handlers – thus ruining everything in it. I am pond scum. I am the stuff that grows on pond scum – and I knew it.
About ½ hour before we were to board, my new ‘mate’ said that she needed a smoke and had to leave security to do so and would be back. OK … whatever. She gets up and LEAVES HER LUGGAGE - I am assuming in my care. I sit there and count the minutes down – really, really wishing that I had taken a potty break before cancer lady decided to dump so much luggage on me that I could not navigate it all to the toilet and back again. Fifteen minutes. Half an Hour (I’m going to KILL her). Fifty minutes …
They start to board and she is not back. I am fuming. If I leave the bags – they will become abandoned luggage and maybe trigger a shut down the airport … but … but (*whiny voice*) I GOT PERMISSION TO BOARD EARLY! A minute later she shows up and says she is going to the bathroom – I told her I was boarding and that she was on her own – didn’t even strangle her … which I think she deserved. Got on the plane – safely ensconcing my babies in an open overhead bin.
I start to relax. I am on the plane; my luggage is safe, what could possibly upset this delicate balance?
Apparently 50 or so 5th and 6th graders who surrounded me in their matching purple shirts – along with their 3 chaperones. The next 14 hours are starting to scare me … really scare me.
We take off … we don’t die – a point for the positive side (I think) and arrive at cruising altitude. Things are pretty calm … for a REALLY COOL Field Trip, that is. Think back to those buses when you took a field trip, now think about it going on for 14 hours. Now try to stay sane ….
Entertainment system is turned on, dinner is served … we’re doing good.
At 4 ½ hours into the flight an announcement is made that they are sorry to interrupt our sleeping (hah!) but there was a medical emergency on board and was there a doctor that could help? Pandemonium breaks out while all the stewardesses and stewards literally run up and down the aisles gathering the first aid kits and other medical stuff that they keep on an airplane.
So … are we close to Hawaii? Could they land there? Do we have to turn around? I decide that maybe I should offer my pharmaceuticals in the hopes that they will keep pointing toward Gary and not turn around. Don’t really … but thought about it …
And the plane keeps on flying ….
… I am assuming in the right direction. So, either:
a) There were some SUPER doctors on board – you know – doing surgery with a pocketknife, a plastic fork and a ballpoint pen (the MacGyver way),
b) The patient wasn’t as ill as the announcement and actions of the staff lead us to believe
c) The patient died and was stored in an overhead bin somewhere …
So – back to watching mediocre movies, watching kids be SUPER excited, and listening to music on my iPod when I notice on the status display that we had 23 minutes to our destination, and odd … all the words on the status pages have turned into French …
I turned to my neighbor, who, by the way was from Papua New Guinea working at Gobe – right where Gary had been for 2 weeks … and ask if perchance they had made some sort of announcement about fog in Brisbane. He said yes and that we were landing on a dinky island in Noumea the capital city of the French Territory of New Caledonia.
So … off to Brisbane via France …
We sit on the tarmac and get refueled. Did you know it takes an hour to fill up one of those Long Reach 747’s? Was terribly bored since the reason I was listening to music in the first place when the fog announcement was announced was because my Entertainment System died.
Entertainment. System. Dead. There are just no words for the boredom / frustration / panic this can generate ….
But – score a point for the positive! This was a real airport! We didn’t land in a field of cows like last time this happened to me! Take off was a breeze – none of that ‘we only have about a ¼ of the runway we need so we will just punch it to mach 4 and lift off’ nonsense …
Got to Brisbane, landed 3 hours late – but I was there.
And a little surprised about it ….
Got out of Houston fine and into LAX. BREEZED through security and off to figure out what gate my flight was leaving from. There are no display boards showing arrivals and departures for Qantas anywhere. Also, when you check in on line you don’t get the gate number – so it is sort of a guessing game. “Go Find Your Gate” by wandering and looking at the sign at each gate. Not so hard … to date it has only departed from two gates in terminal 6 – Gate 41 and Gate 48B. It has only (for me) departed from Gate 41 once and that was my first trip out so I am assuming a permanent change to Gate 48B. See … not so hard.
I wander past Gate 41 and snicker to myself wishing those on the plane GOOD LUCK!!! It was a SOLID MASS of kids ranging from ages 10 – 15 all in the same outfit and all SO SUPER DUPER EXCITED!!! Chaperones seemed light and I wondered what level of hell THAT was. Got to 48B and it listed Melbourne as the destination of the flight leaving from that gate. Odd. I started looking: 48A, 47, 46, hmmm, 45, 44, 43, …. Getting a little nervous … 42 – and no go – none were headed to Brisbane.
Nervously, I head back to Gate 41 – off by itself and look, for the first time, at the monitor showing the destination and flight number.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
But, well, yes and sit down dejectedly in an open chair.
The woman next to me sort of laughs and, well, yeah – what do you say … anyway – you can’t hear each other over the din. Had to go show my passport to the people at the desk since I had checked in online – needed to prove I was me - and the lady kindly offered to watch my bags while I did – thus also saving my seat which were hard to come by. I thanked her profusely and up to the desk I went. So nice of her.
I had an ulterior motive for going up to the desk. For some reason I could only get a seat at the front of the plane this flight and I usually pick the back so I can board first – ensuring that my bag full of computers and cameras would have space in the overhead bins. I was worried that I would not accomplish this in the front – getting on last – on a full flight. So … and I am not proud of myself – I pulled the invalid card – said my leg was in severe pain (true, but, then again – it always is). Said I was having trouble navigating my bags and ‘needed extra time to board’ – totally prepared to pull out pain prescriptions to back me up. I am so ashamed. She said that was fine and I slurked back to my chair but relieved that my bag was not going to be forced to be checked and manhandled by baggage handlers – thus ruining everything in it. I am pond scum. I am the stuff that grows on pond scum – and I knew it.
About ½ hour before we were to board, my new ‘mate’ said that she needed a smoke and had to leave security to do so and would be back. OK … whatever. She gets up and LEAVES HER LUGGAGE - I am assuming in my care. I sit there and count the minutes down – really, really wishing that I had taken a potty break before cancer lady decided to dump so much luggage on me that I could not navigate it all to the toilet and back again. Fifteen minutes. Half an Hour (I’m going to KILL her). Fifty minutes …
They start to board and she is not back. I am fuming. If I leave the bags – they will become abandoned luggage and maybe trigger a shut down the airport … but … but (*whiny voice*) I GOT PERMISSION TO BOARD EARLY! A minute later she shows up and says she is going to the bathroom – I told her I was boarding and that she was on her own – didn’t even strangle her … which I think she deserved. Got on the plane – safely ensconcing my babies in an open overhead bin.
I start to relax. I am on the plane; my luggage is safe, what could possibly upset this delicate balance?
Apparently 50 or so 5th and 6th graders who surrounded me in their matching purple shirts – along with their 3 chaperones. The next 14 hours are starting to scare me … really scare me.
We take off … we don’t die – a point for the positive side (I think) and arrive at cruising altitude. Things are pretty calm … for a REALLY COOL Field Trip, that is. Think back to those buses when you took a field trip, now think about it going on for 14 hours. Now try to stay sane ….
Entertainment system is turned on, dinner is served … we’re doing good.
At 4 ½ hours into the flight an announcement is made that they are sorry to interrupt our sleeping (hah!) but there was a medical emergency on board and was there a doctor that could help? Pandemonium breaks out while all the stewardesses and stewards literally run up and down the aisles gathering the first aid kits and other medical stuff that they keep on an airplane.
So … are we close to Hawaii? Could they land there? Do we have to turn around? I decide that maybe I should offer my pharmaceuticals in the hopes that they will keep pointing toward Gary and not turn around. Don’t really … but thought about it …
And the plane keeps on flying ….
… I am assuming in the right direction. So, either:
a) There were some SUPER doctors on board – you know – doing surgery with a pocketknife, a plastic fork and a ballpoint pen (the MacGyver way),
b) The patient wasn’t as ill as the announcement and actions of the staff lead us to believe
c) The patient died and was stored in an overhead bin somewhere …
So – back to watching mediocre movies, watching kids be SUPER excited, and listening to music on my iPod when I notice on the status display that we had 23 minutes to our destination, and odd … all the words on the status pages have turned into French …
I turned to my neighbor, who, by the way was from Papua New Guinea working at Gobe – right where Gary had been for 2 weeks … and ask if perchance they had made some sort of announcement about fog in Brisbane. He said yes and that we were landing on a dinky island in Noumea the capital city of the French Territory of New Caledonia.
So … off to Brisbane via France …
We sit on the tarmac and get refueled. Did you know it takes an hour to fill up one of those Long Reach 747’s? Was terribly bored since the reason I was listening to music in the first place when the fog announcement was announced was because my Entertainment System died.
Entertainment. System. Dead. There are just no words for the boredom / frustration / panic this can generate ….
But – score a point for the positive! This was a real airport! We didn’t land in a field of cows like last time this happened to me! Take off was a breeze – none of that ‘we only have about a ¼ of the runway we need so we will just punch it to mach 4 and lift off’ nonsense …
Got to Brisbane, landed 3 hours late – but I was there.
And a little surprised about it ….
2 comments:
Your travel posts always leave me chuckling. Did the teens EVER quiet down?
Yes they did. For being so young and getting to go to AUSTRALIA they were probably pretty sedate! Just excited. I sort of thought of it like sitting next to an infant - it's not like you can do anything about it, the parents aren't going to get them to stop screaming and I had been there - so Karma (on the infant - these kids and the field trip was just the travel gods little joke ...)
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