Lost in Air-Space, A Transient's Tale

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29th September to 2nd October 2006....... I think!


On paper, this was going to be a bugger, a real marathon. The longest single journey of my entire trip in terms of time (calendar days, that is) and distance. But, sometimes, the supposed hardships of the life of a traveller are not always what they may seem. Before departure, my itinerary looked something like this; Leave cousins house at around Midday on Friday 29th September to get to Vancouver airport at 1.30 and check in for a 4.30pm flight. From there, it was a six hour hop to Hawaii (3 hours behind Vancouver) and a four hour wait for the next one, leaving at 11.50pm that night. This was to be a ten and a half hour flight to Sydney, arriving at 6.30am, Sunday 1st October (I have no idea of the time difference with Vancouver but, it's 10 hours ahead of home, I think). At Sydney the itinerary becomes a bit uncertain due to the stand-by nature of my flights from Vancouver and Honolulu. Because I may not get on either of these planes, I have no idea if my 6.30am Sunday arrival in Antipodia(?) will actually occur. Therefore, I cannot book the desired budget airline flight to New Zealand ahead of time for fear of being a “no show.” More frightening to my Scottish mind, though, is the fear of the loss of dosh if said scenario comes to fruition. However, the intention is still to catch a plane, from which I can alight in Auckland, on the same day as I leave Sydney. I think it is also worth noting at this juncture that, when I planned to leave Canada I was eight hours behind Greenwich Meantime, when I get to New Zealand I will be twelve hours ahead. Have you got YOUR head around all that? Good. Now, all I had to do was the same!

First hurdle (checking in for the 4.30pm plane out of Vancouver), first fall....... Sort of.

I was reliably informed by my colleagues (of the loosest association) at Air Canada that I had next-to-no-hope of getting on that particular sky boat and, to maximise my chances of getting to Australia as planned, I should go for the 7.30pm flight instead. In hindsight, this suited me fine. When I got to Honolulu I was happy I'd spent six hours in Vancouver's vast and bustling metropolis of a terminal rather than four at Hawaii's aviation hub, where everything was as sleepy as the warm night air there made me feel. Also with hindsight (well, being told by a mate at a later date- is that the same thing)? I found that I'd had a very lucky start the journey. My “reliable informants” at Vancouver turned out to be rather ill-informed and, pretty bloody incompetent to boot. My friend at Air Canada tracks all my journeys with them from Heathrow and, after my arrival in Auckland, he told me that there were plenty of seats on the first flight out of Vancouver (meaning I could easily have got on the earlier flight) and, in addition, his colleagues there- by proper association- made a howler of humongous proportions. When he checked the records, there was no evidence of me ever having been on the plane! How my bag and I got to Honolulu is a mystery. I was not on the passenger list and my backpack never boarded the aircraft. Apparently, this was a major security breach and if someone had questioned my presence while we were in the air, the plane would have been diverted or turned back or, maybe even shot down!! Ok, so the last one was an a bit of an exaggeration but, I thought you might be getting bored by now so, I wanted to throw in some REAL drama. Anyway, not only was I lucky to arrive in Hawaii without causing an international incident but, because there's no evidence of how I got there, I don't have to pay for the flight either. What a lump of luck!

Oblivious to this situation at the time, I boarded the onward flight to Sydney with just the usual relief you feel when you're on stand-by. They finally call out your name and this means you can relax in YOUR seat and continue your trip. As the tension from the lottery that is stand-by flying faded, the long day I'd had caught up with me and I drifted off to sleep for four of the ten and a half hours we were in the air over The Pacific. During my slumber, I entered the twilight zone. We took off at 11.50pm on a Friday and landed at 6.30am on a Sunday. As I say, the flight's duration was ten and a half hours. Ignore the ten minutes from Friday night but subtract the six and a half hours spent flying on Sunday morning from the total hours in the air and that means that Saturday was only four hours long. "Hang on", I thought, "I've slept for about four hours." I was panic stricken! I had completely missed Saturday. Now, I have had a few Sundays dissapear from my life in the past (usually due to the excesses of activities carried out on a Saturday night) but, this was a bit different. Football is played on Saturdays and, far more importantly, Chelsea had played on this particular one- the one I had missed. I wondered later, as I nervously waited for a Football results web page to download, if this was like the old adage; If a tree falls in the forest and no-one is there to hear it, does it still make a sound? Or, in my terms, if Chelsea play a football match and the day that it is played on doesn't exist for me, when this web page eventually downloads, will it be blank?

The answer, which restored my sanity but, didn't do anything to improve my mood was; No the screen wasn't blank. But, I wish it had been as my beloved Blues could only muster one measly goal in a drab draw at home to Villa. Still, as far as I'm concerned, the day didn't happen so, neither did the crappy result! And, I couldn't hear any trees falling at the airport either, so there!

Sanity intact (-ish), I then had twelve hours to sit at Sydney airport before the flight I managed to get booked on took to the air for Auckland that evening. Hard work you may think but, here, as with the rest of the journey, my luck held out. The showers were free and ever so refreshing, the very quiet lounge couch I caught another hour and a half's sleep on was ever so comfortable, the people watching properties of the place were ever so interesting and the locals ever so helpful. One friendly Aussie instructed me on how to use my recently purchased 'phone card, ensuring that my contacts in New Zealand knew I was coming and when, very graciously, they could pick me up. And another happy-go-lucky local, who I had bargained with for the ticket to Auckland, ensured I got an upgrade on the plane that took me there.

From my business class seat, I reflected on the trip so far as we took off from Sydney. The city lights twinkled below and were accompanied by dusk's orange-blue glow on the horizon. I was, indeed, a very lucky chappy.

As if I was due any more good fortune, it just got better when I got to New Zealand. I had been worried about getting through immigration, as they have a rule about passengers being in possession a return ticket out of the country before they'll let you in in the first place. All I had was a booking form for one that my “Upgrade” friend had printed off for me while I was back in Australia. I approached the Customs Officer with great trepidation to be greeted with a great big smile and a “Your boys didn't do too well yesterday did they?” Like a Rabbit caught in headlights, I froze for a second. I had been expecting the third degree concerning my lack of a ticket from a stern-faced official but, instead, I was getting a barrage of jovial banter about my football team (whose colours and crest I had forgotten I was proudly displaying). Just as I caught up with the jist of the conversation and was starting to give as good as I was getting, the officer stopped in mid sentence and just stared at the documents on his desk. At first he looked shocked, then as if deep in thought and then, raising his head and glancing around, he whispered through a wry smile so his colleagues couldn't hear; "I won't tell anyone if you don't but, I've just stamped your Passport with a residency visa." I had been worried about being admitted in to the country at all and now I had an ink imprint on an official document that meant I could stay for as long as I liked. People pay thousands and go through months, sometimes years, of bureaucracy to get that and all I had to do for it was chat about football for five minutes- a tall order indeed! I swear I must have some Irish blood too!

When I think of all the things that could have gone Pear-shaped on this mammoth migration across the widest wet place on the planet, I must consider myself to be a very fortunate individual. However, I do believe you make your own luck in this world. A lot of people would have faced and fought their way through this extensive excursion with dread- you hear them at so many airports constantly complaining that "their" trip is a nightmare- and, although I sympathise, I prefer to take a more positive view. The getting there is the lion share of the fun of a journey and all through this one I was determined not to join the "Bitch and moan brigade." Whenever I found myself feeling like it was all starting to get to me, I relaxed and recalled the wisdom of my Zen tattoo; After all, all I was doing was "Sitting quietly, doing nothing" then, quite naturally, Spring came and the grass grew by itself.

On my first night in New Zealand proper, I was standing on my host's deck smoking my before-bed cigarette, under the brightest half Moon I think I've ever seen. An aircraft streaked across a minight-blue sky. I watched, transfixed, as it passed underneath the glowing semi-orb but, above a thin whisp of cloud that had been turned transluscent by the moonbeams from on high. The flying machine's shadow trailed it's maker for a second, chasing it along the cloud then, it quickly overtook it and sped off in to the darkness. For a brief moment, The Moon, the plane, the cloud and I were all in alignment. I'd never been cast in shadow at night before and in that instant I thought about the journey that had brought me to this point in time. The sight before me reflected my experience; Half of it spent lounging around or lagging behind and the other half spent racing forward and speeding ahead but, ultimately, living it all in that moment of alignment. Sometimes, time may advance alarmingly or it may languish in the past. Occasionally, it feels like it's been lost and it may even stand still for a split second but, in reality, time will always move on. It will always take you to wherever you're going, wherever that is and whenever it may be.

I love being lost in air-space, I can't think of anything better to do with my time.

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Comments

[Patricia]

Wow
This is one of the nicest stories I´ve ever read. What a great trip and I am soooo jealous of the new zealand visa. That´s the best of all! Enjoy each and every day and looking forward seeing you again one time. Greetings from Markus as well, big hug, patricia