In case I didn’t think flying from Cork to London to Washington DC to New Orleans on Sunday was bad enough – almost 24 hours of racing around – I made the mistake of leaving again almost immediately for New Zealand, on Tuesday afternoon.
It was the usual semi-chaos at New Orleans airport, where I was given a “flight management” card (I think – I’ve blotted this out of my memory already) instead of a boarding pass. This led to half an hour of anxiety at the gate, waiting to hear if I had an actual seat on the plane. I guess they were over-booked. I got myself completely wound up, because I needed to catch that flight in order to make my connection to Auckland in LA.
Or so I thought.
On arrival, while hurtling through the terminal to do the usual LAX shuffle (catch the bus to Terminal Two, search out a working escalator, check in again at the Air NZ counter to get my boarding pass, wait forever to get through security, etc), I listened to my voicemail: an urgent message from Air NZ. Apparently, a bird had flown into the plane’s propellers – official description: “bird strike” – yesterday, which meant repairs had to be undertaken today; the plane had just managed to set off for London. Which meant it wouldn’t be flying to Auckland tonight.
So: an overnight stay at the LAX Hilton, complete with vouchers for the buffet dinner, breakfast, and lunch. I’ll gloss over the delights of the Hilton buffets. Wine is not included, needless to say. (I bought my own.) Because I never learn the lesson of missing luggage – mine, checked through to Auckland, was held to ransom overnight at LAX – I had a hour-long walk today there and back to the nearest drug store, along Sepulveda Boulevard, a street name I now discover I’ve been mispronouncing for years.
I should have learned by now not to check crucial items like foundation, deodorant, and my cell phone charger, but clearly there is no lesson so vital in life that I manage to remember it.
Today I got some work done in the room, then made my way back to the airport around 4 PM: we were told to be here no later than 6:30, but the Air NZ guy yesterday told me earlier was better, given the crush. He wasn’t wrong: even arriving earlier, it took me an hour to check in and get through security. The latter was vintage LAX – it included having to line up OUTSIDE THE TERMINAL and, twenty minutes later, just as I’d unpacked my computer, shoes and toiletries, the security gate breaking down.
But it was only when I arrived here that I discovered the flight was not boarding at 7:30, as we were told, but at 11 PM. That’s 1 AM Thursday New Orleans time. I left home for the airport at 3 PM yesterday, Tuesday. There’s still an eleven-hour flight to come. I’ve been wearing the same clothes for way too long. By the time I actually get to Auckland, I’ll be so zonked I may forget to buy duty-free.
At least at LAX there’s the haven of the Koru Club, which kicks the Red Carpet Club’s ass in every respect. The staff are friendly; the drinks are free. There’s a decent array of food, and there are showers. If only there were laundry facilities and beds, I would be happy to camp out here for some time. One person, however, was told off for walking around without shoes, after which I guiltily slipped on my own. The local staff member chatting to me explained that it was a liability issue. Someone might step on some glass and sue. I explained that in New Zealand everyone is used to running around in bare feet. She looked incredulous.
The guy who checked me in also told me I only have one luggage tag, rather than one for each of the bags I checked in New Orleans yesterday. Both of those bags better make it onto this flight. It’s good to have something to worry about for the next eighteen hours.
I’m sorry these posts are so dull and non-literary. I am dull and non-literary myself at present; I’m simply a travel monkey. As soon as I get home, I will assume literary mode, whatever that is. And I’ll post some pictures of Ireland – really.
Paula, you've left out the most important part of the story -- the celebrity connection. See this:
http://www.nzherald.co.nz/section/1501119/story.cfm?c_id=1501119&objectid=10520863
Posted by: Philip Matthews | July 11, 2008 at 12:08 AM
OMG, Paula, Tom tells me you got upgraded, which means you could very well have been sitting in the same seat that Posh Spice had vacated only hours beforehand! Doesn't that make it all worthwhile?!
Posted by: Trina | July 11, 2008 at 07:09 PM