Nov 15/16 Auckland downtown to the twilight zone

Awoke at sunbreak, as is customary now that we’ve adjusted to camper time. Brewed some coffee. Decided to do a little walking/shopping. Refound the cool shirt shop, DJ Station. Guy makes his own shirts, the entire back half of the store is full of tables, patterns, and fabric rolls. Really nice stuff. We’d been there a month ago and he said to stop back as he was making some larger shirts that might be a match for me.

Constant problem, big chest and shoulders from the gym mean I need a large/XL shirt, but off the rack big shirts are made for big bellied guys, so I end up with enough extra material around my abs that I look pregnant. “Slim fit” shirts have the right profile/cut, but invariably even the large/XL sizes are still tiny overall.

The guy remembered us, and pulled out a couple of funky items. They both fit great. Sold. So, if you’re ever in Auckland, check out DJ Station on “K” road. Walked further, picked up a nice little suitcase at a tiny luggage shop. Plastic, fairly sturdy. Just the thing.

Walking around in my cool but not supportive shoes was getting old. Back to the hotel, but not before stocking up on books and magazines for the trip back. Dreading the transPacific leg. Decided to pay for a half day in the am so we wouldn’t have to run out of the hotel at checkout only to spend the day sitting at the airport. Also arranged the shuttle service. All set.

Back out to explore a little more as the sun was sinking, got a seat at a tiny little Italian place basically under the Sky Tower. Good food, good beer. Back to the hotel with a full belly and a smile. Read for a while, luxuriating in the sheer space of the apartment, then drifted off.

Awoke a bit later than usual, still had plenty of time to pack. We’d been conscientious of what we were aquiring during the trip, but it still was a tight fit to stuff everything in. Hopped in the shuttle, and our tiny little driver proceeded to actually scare me with his driving. Me. He sat bolt upright, seat pulled so far forward that his arms were bent almost double, talking on his cell in Notenglish and careening through the tangled mess of streets leading to the airport. Wow.

Dropped off at the International terminal, paid the impressively reasonable fare, and got out of there.

Our ticket agents weren’t even manning the desks yet, we sat around waiting for them to open. Noticed a luggage scale, tossed the bags on. Oops. My bag was 26-27kg.

I couldn’t figure how. Denise noticed a sticker on the bag’s side that said 4.2kg . No way. The bag alone weighs ten pounds!

Did the shuffle, ended up balancing the bags and putting the heavy books in my carry-on messenger bag. Ok. 22-23kg each. No problems.

Now to get ready for 24 hrs of airports/flights/time travel. Through security, we chill in the airport bar until
our time nears.

Auckland, NZ to Fiji… 3hrs, pretty thunderstorms, wet tarmac showing beautiful spray patterns from the jet exhaust, slight turbulence and a small delay from having to wind around the thunderheads looming outside, but no big problems.

Fiji to L.A….. Oh no.

Firstly, it‘s a BIG plane. 747. Two decks. Over 400 people. Fiji is a TINY terminal. WHY do people feel the need to stand around the gate? They load us in steps for a reason. 400 people slowly shuffling down a 12 foot wide hallway, cattle like, hoping to get on. You have assigned seating. You’ll get on. Grrr. One of my peeves. A truly well designed load would have seats load from the rear, seat by seat, everyone in the proper place in line, no elbowing through the throngs. Maybe it‘s just me.

Get on, meet our seatmate. Pleasant, Conversational without being overly talkative, no funny odors, not 400lbs. Excellent. Settle in.

We taxi into position, then all 875, 000 pounds of metal and flesh are thrust into the sky by the four huge engines. I love takeoffs, especially in something that really seems like it just shouldn’t fly.

The next ten hours dissolve into fitful sleep, a movie, multiple food sessions, reading, and simply staring off into space. The seats are no bigger than a regular domestic flight, the armrests don’t lift, and the kneespace is nonexistent. What a miserable way to cross an ocean.

Finally open the shade to be greeted by the morning sun, descending down over the Channel islands just outside L.A. What a fun 10 hour flight.

Landed to a dusky golden pallor outside, at first I thought it was simply a bad smog day, but came to realize the fires were what was giving the whole city a hazy smokescreen. Big change from crystal clear New Zealand skies.

Through customs, and of course our work visas are scrutinized, then we’re told we have to surrender these and get new ones right now as we’ve gone outside the U.S. Great. Filling out the paperwork, questioning the “wisdom” of the customs agents, as each one seems to have a different idea of the rules and regulations, having to play nice because it only takes one guy in a bad mood to ruin your whole day.

Old visa’s gone, new ones in hand (why? I still don’t know, ours were clearly stamped multiple entry.), we pick up our luggage, wait in a monstrous line and roll through security. 1000 people, 5 guys. Efficiency in action. Again. Down to a science now, I wear no belt, carry no change, watch is in the carryon, shoes completely untied with tucked laces so they’re essentially slipons.

We do the dance required to “ensure our freedom“, and away we go, walking outside to the next terminal over, where our final plane awaits.

Or should await. It’s late.

The only food choice is a fast food place, we grab a bite as we wait for news that our plane is coming. The terminal is full, every seat taken. We find a corner, I pull out the laptop and do some pic editing and typing, preparing for the next few blog entries. On and on and on.

L.A. to Seattle…. Late, overbooked. I’m done. I think I actually slept most of the way, but I’m so far beyond tired there’s no good sleep tonight. To the world, thanks to the dateline, the whole trip has only taken 2 hours, but in reality we've been up for over 24 hours. Still, touching down at Seatac airport 3 hours after takeoff caused a sigh of relief.

Collected the luggage, we walked to the taxi stand and stretched out in the wide soft backseat of the cab.

Home!

Sleep!