Leaving on a Jet Plane

October 16^th-20^th, 2013

I left Portland on October 16^th, but did not arrive in Sydney until the 18^th. The 17^th did not exist for me. Huzzah for time travel!

I left PDX and traveled to LAX where my connecting flight would be. After two shuttles, getting lost, walking in circles, cursing under my breath and hiking for what seemed like ages, I found my way to my gate. (Honestly, I’m pretty sure the LA in LAX stands for Lucifer’s Architecture, because that place has to have been crafted by the devil himself). I had some time to kill so I grabbed some dinner at one of the many little food courts around. Let me just tell you, the international terminal at LAX is quite an interesting place. Passing the different airlines and people groups you start to feel a bit like you’re on “It’s a Small World” at Disneyland.  Your own personal walking tour of the nations. Even the food selection seems to be divided by region.

My flight got delayed a few times. We finally were able to board (about 1.5 hours late). I had an aisle seat and the spot next to me was vacant. SCORE! But just as I started to feel the natural high that comes along with having ANY sort of personal space on an airplane, a flight attendant came up to me and asked me for a favor. He said that there was a woman a few rows back who was, as he put it, a bit on the bigger side, and she would not be able to fit in her seat. He kindly asked if I would be willing to trade on account of the empty space next to me. Internally, I was thinking: “ARE YOU CRAZY?! THIS IS A 15 HOUR FLIGHT, OF COURSE I’M NOT GIVING UP THIS SPACE!!!” But I heard my mouth say, “If it will make her life easier, sure.”

Who am I? A sucker for a man with an accent, THAT'S who! So I switched seats and was ushered to a middle seat next to a baby. Immediately regretting my decision, and mentally waving my fists to the heavens, I took my seat. The baby was asleep, but I knew that wouldn’t last the whole 15 hours. 

Just before take off, the same flight attendant came back to me and said that he had found a window seat in an exit row and if I would like to switch after take off. I said yes, because if I wasn’t going to have my aisle seat for easy stretching access, I was certainly going to have a seat with a view/side to lean against for sleeping. After take off he came and got me and helped me shuffle all of my carry-on belongings for the 2^nd time.

When I got up to my row, I was a little disappointed. For although the seat was in a position that would define it as a ‘window seat’, there was no window. There was a window on the exit door, but from my seat I could not see out of it. It was just a wall. And where my leg room would have been, the emergency door jutted out into the plane. This bulbous plastic form is what contained the inflatable slide that would be used in an emergency water evacuation. Even though this was less than ideal, I still preferred it to the middle seat next to the baby. The flight attendant brought me champagne and snacks as a token of appreciation for giving up my seat. It was all quite the emotional roller coaster, and all in the span of 40 minutes. Later, before landing he would bring me a duty free bag containing 2 fancy business travel kits and a Calvin Klein fragrance sampler, as further tokens of appreciation. 

The rest of the flight was pretty normal. Watched a couple of movies (The Croods and ¾ of Epic), ate a couple of meals. I slept quite a bit which was nice. I went through immigration and customs and finally picked up my luggage. I made my way out to the pick up spot where Danielle (the family mom) was waiting for me. I was worried that I wouldn’t recognize her, or that she wouldn’t recognize me in all my griminess. She took me to the house where I unpacked, showered, ate lunch and FaceTimed Mom and Dad so they would know I was alive. She gave me a little tour of the neighborhood and soon enough it was time to pick up the oldest son, Lachlan.

After we picked him up we went out to the shops to pick up a few things and had some afternoon tea at a café. (For future reference, morning and afternoon tea just means snack. Very seldom is there actually tea involved). After the shops we went into the city to pick up Mark (the dad) and the youngest son, Harry, from day care.

On the way home they took me over the Harbour Bridge and I got to see my first glimpse of the Opera house. When we got home Mark made the boys some pizza and Dan ordered Thai for us adults. The boys went to bed and I stayed up to watch television with Dan and Mark. But finally at 9pm I had to call it quits. It had been quite a busy day and I needed to get some sleep.

Next time I post I’ll give you an update on how my first week goes!