There’s something about New Zealand
Trips to New Zealand seem to generate inordinate amounts of stress for us.
A couple of years ago I actually got to the airport for a Friday evening flight to Auckland, was parked and waiting for the airport bus when I realised I didn’t have my passport with me.
There was much associated stress and panic. Because of the time difference and the length of the flight, missing a flight to NZ can cost you a whole day. On that day at least, it was the last flight for the day and the next one would have had me in NZ at 3pm the following day! So you can imagine. Anyway, about an hour of insane driving later, I made it back to Tullamarine, most agitated by this point and expecting several speeding tickets to arrive promptly in the mail) , ran to the check-in desk with my luggage in tow and begged them to not close the flight to me. Then ran back to the car where I’d forgotten my mobile phone so I could actually call Darren to tell him I made the flight (and no, I still haven’t learnt his number, and today I learnt he hasn’t learnt mine yet either - stupid technology crutches). The FAs, when I reached the plane, gave me water and told me to sit down because I looked like I was going to have a heart attack. I didn’t, but I did have asthma for a few hours from the unaccustomed exercise. Also, despite NZ food and booze, I lost 3kg that weekend. Just goes to show what running can do for you. :)
Fast forward a couple of years to today. Darren is off for two weeks for work in Wellington. Up at 5:30 (though as an aside, Barry and hunger because we didn’t eat dinner last night, meant that I’d been awake since 4am), drove Darren to the airport and headed home with plans to drop back in bed. As I’m parking the car at home, looking forward to heading back to bed, I notice Darren’s black fleece jacket in the back seat.
Haha, I think, after all that fuss about packing he’ll have to manage without it. I thought he was overpacking anyway.
So I ring him to let him know.
And the phone vibrates in his pocket in the jacket.
OMFG!!! It’s a BUSINESS TRIP. He NEEDS the phone.
Back out on the road (cursing for the thousandth time our non-automatic garage door that I have to get out to close and lock AGAIN). Desperately trying to phone the airline desk at the airport. I’ve tried this before, does anyone have any inkling how hard it is to contact an airline’s desk at an actual airport? And does anyone have any inkling how USELESS Three’s (the phone company’s) directory assistance is? Anyway, on the third try, some nice lady with a broad Kiwi accent in AirNZ’s travel desk get a message through to check-in for me and the message came back that if I got there by 8am, they could make sure he gets it, but they couldn’t page him. As I’m turning the phone off so it’s locked (because I’ll be handing it to a stranger), I realise his WALLET and KEYS (to the locks on his luggage) are also in the jacket pockets! (have I mentioned that I hate this habit of his, as I’m always scared his stuff will be lost from falling out?)
(I’m tempted here to insert the head-explodey picture again - but I stole it from someone’s blog http://www.fuchsiamac.com/ actually )
So not only has he no phone, he’s got no money or cards to buy another or clothes without possibly breaking his bag!
At this point (of course), I get caught in a traffic jam entering the airport.
But I made it there with time to spare (again, I expect multiple speeding tickets to arrive), and found Darren just inside the doors to the airport (I thought it prudent to look for him before trusting his wallet - don’t care much about the phone - to strangers), pacing up and down, getting more and more frantic that I didn’t appear back with his jacket. Queue dramatic emotional scenes of relief and the awarding of mega wife points! \o/
And now I’m absolutely exhausted and wrung out. But I did finish a knitted hat this arvo, so I feel good about that. :)