To ADL and onwards
So I'm perched in Adelaide airport awaiting my next flight (entry typed there, posted in SFO). It's been a fun 24 hours, wish it could have been longer really, but a minor airline stuff up put an end to that idea.
I had intended to fly in on Friday night, but in the best spirit of travel, the Powers That Be had other plans. I boarded the jet, a Virgin Blue E-190 and we pushed back from the gate, already almost an hour late. We move out to the edge of the apron and we sit there. And sit there. I look out the window, into the dim light, and realise that someone is walking over to the aircraft. He moves towards the front of the aircraft and out of my field of view. Suddenly there's an announcement. Something is wrong with the plane, they're hopeful it will take only minutes to fix, but we have to go back. We roll back towards the bay and park again. We're not getting off, so it seems as though what's going on here is fixable. But after 10 mins of groping around under the aircraft they decide that it is in fact, not fixable in a reasonable length of time. And so the flight is cancelled and we all climb back off the plane to try and sort out what to do next. This is where being familiar with how airlines work pays off. Most people head to the baggage carousel to get their bags. Some head straight for the Service Desk in the hope of getting to the front of the queue to rebook themselves. I pull out my phone and call Virgin Blue reservations. See, airlines use a single, unified system to control pretty much all of this stuff. There's nothing that can be done at the service desk that the call centre guy can't do. Within minutes of disembarking (the aircraft holds 104) a huge queue has formed at the service desk, but by that point I'm in the process of walking out the airport. The call centre has rebooked me into one of a tiny number of empty seats on the next flight out. I haven't had to stand in line at all and I've got something that only the first few people at the front will be able to get, a seat on the next direct flight.
So I lob into Adelaide late, but in one piece. It's a small city and parts of the CBD remind me of Kalgoorlie, with similar buildings and wide streets with angle parking bays. Despite the small size there's a lot packed into a small space. Even the night-clubs seem to have a happily packed but not overcrowded feel to them. The airport is small, but well thought out and the city has the same sort of laid back feel that Perth does. I don't stay out too late, but still manage to wake up feeling a bit off and make my way back to the airport. I'm sitting here looking at the Air New Zealand jet that will take me on my next sector to Auckland to connect on to San Francisco. It's just 4 hours to Auckland, then only 12 more to San Francisco.
I had intended to fly in on Friday night, but in the best spirit of travel, the Powers That Be had other plans. I boarded the jet, a Virgin Blue E-190 and we pushed back from the gate, already almost an hour late. We move out to the edge of the apron and we sit there. And sit there. I look out the window, into the dim light, and realise that someone is walking over to the aircraft. He moves towards the front of the aircraft and out of my field of view. Suddenly there's an announcement. Something is wrong with the plane, they're hopeful it will take only minutes to fix, but we have to go back. We roll back towards the bay and park again. We're not getting off, so it seems as though what's going on here is fixable. But after 10 mins of groping around under the aircraft they decide that it is in fact, not fixable in a reasonable length of time. And so the flight is cancelled and we all climb back off the plane to try and sort out what to do next. This is where being familiar with how airlines work pays off. Most people head to the baggage carousel to get their bags. Some head straight for the Service Desk in the hope of getting to the front of the queue to rebook themselves. I pull out my phone and call Virgin Blue reservations. See, airlines use a single, unified system to control pretty much all of this stuff. There's nothing that can be done at the service desk that the call centre guy can't do. Within minutes of disembarking (the aircraft holds 104) a huge queue has formed at the service desk, but by that point I'm in the process of walking out the airport. The call centre has rebooked me into one of a tiny number of empty seats on the next flight out. I haven't had to stand in line at all and I've got something that only the first few people at the front will be able to get, a seat on the next direct flight.
So I lob into Adelaide late, but in one piece. It's a small city and parts of the CBD remind me of Kalgoorlie, with similar buildings and wide streets with angle parking bays. Despite the small size there's a lot packed into a small space. Even the night-clubs seem to have a happily packed but not overcrowded feel to them. The airport is small, but well thought out and the city has the same sort of laid back feel that Perth does. I don't stay out too late, but still manage to wake up feeling a bit off and make my way back to the airport. I'm sitting here looking at the Air New Zealand jet that will take me on my next sector to Auckland to connect on to San Francisco. It's just 4 hours to Auckland, then only 12 more to San Francisco.