What do you mean there's no alcohol on this flight?


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Asia » Hong Kong
December 28th 2016
Published: December 28th 2016
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Midnight, Auckland International Airport: the place to be when you are grabbing a budget 2 a.m. flight to Hong Kong. My friend had done most of the planning, regardless of the fact that I am trained in travel/tourism and may have been the better person to do so.



Leading up to the trip, I had been stressed which set off what my family calls my ‘Sjogren’s Cough’. It is a truly annoying dry cough that can hang round for months. It showed up the same time my HK currency did and never left, even though the currency quickly did. I knew my infamous cough could be a problem as HK and China were dealing with the Bird Flu and a cough was a symptom. But having autoimmune diseases meant I was armed with a medical kit that included every type of cough lozenge imaginable, although none seemed to be working.



Sitting in the Airport, I turned towards my friend and laughed at something he had said at the exact moment I had a severe coughing fit. There was a loud, ominous crack from the vicinity of my ribs. I said “What the heck was that?” and then the pain hit me. I couldn’t move or breathe and coughing wasn’t a good option either. I had no idea what had just cracked but I knew for certain that this was not the ideal time for it to happen. I was now going to have to attempt to board a plan while not breathing or coughing and praying my bent-over shuffle would be put down to needing sleep.



Having had health issues in other airports, I was optimistic there would be someone who could help. As I shuffled along, I came across public showers. I had one of those special micro-fibre towels in my hand luggage so stumbled into the florist’s to pay. The amused but helpful gentleman in there was training to be a herbalist and enthusiastically sprayed arnica into my mouth before kindly letting me have a shower for free. I was sure the hot water would help ease my pain. It probably would have done if the water had actually been hot. Trying to shower in a cramped space without flinging water all over my clothes was interesting, as was trying to dry my large body with a very small towel.



After more arnica and a stretch on the floor in the hope that anything that needed to readjust itself would do so, I decided the best option was to head to the bar that is open 24/7 as alcohol plus painkillers would surely fix the problem. Or at least help me to stop caring. The feeling I had upon finding the bar closed, with a large sign outside it reinforcing how they were open 24/7, was not a good one. Never mind. It was getting close to boarding time and I would make the most of the alcohol on the plane.



“I hope the service is good and they bring the drinks round quickly,” I said. “I think I’ll ask for a couple.” My comments were met with a deathly silence. Sneaking a crooked look at him, as I was still bent in half, I saw a strange look on his face. It was a mixture of horror and guilt and fear. I thought about this for a few moments and the light dawned. “No way. No bloody way!” I rasped as loudly as I could manage. “Are you telling me this is a bloody dry airline???” His expression confirmed my worst fears. We were travelling on Royal Brunei which did not serve alcohol. If I could have stood up straight and wrung his neck, I would have done so.



The long flight, accompanied by poor food such as buns that would have made excellent baseballs, was arduous. But our wait in the Transit Lounge in Brunei was entertaining, at least for the other passengers. I managed to make my way to a seat but then needed to visit the bathroom. Standing caused me a great deal of pain and I made plenty of appropriate sound effects and gestures which were quickly imitated by all the lovely Muslim ladies seated nearby and then spread rapidly along the rows like a Mexican wave. When I made it back to my seat they repeated these, using questioning gestures to establish what was wrong. The lack of a common language didn't matter. They found it all quite entertaining and I was grateful for their smiles, laughter and sympathy. I just wish one of them had been carrying a hip flask!

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