Every trip has a beginning
Friday, Sept. 30
We’re cruising at
34,000 feet, on our way to 40,000, and more importantly, on our way
to Oceania, Australia, the land down under. We’ve saved and
planned, and now the trip is a reality.
Aaron and Brandon
came along, Aaron having driven up from Austin and Brandon having
flown to DFW from Lubbock. Bran arrived about the same time as we did
and meets us at the Qantas terminal.
We check in at the
counter because the stupid Qantas website won’t recognize our names
– their system doesn’t allow for special characters such as
apostrophes. This means the name on our reservation doesn’t match
our passport. Not being able to check in online doesn’t amount to
much, but it sent me into a small anxiety attack until calls to the
airline and travel company assure me that the humans at the terminal
won’t have the problem the computers are having.
We go through
security, and even though the line seems kind of long. It moves well
so we make it through in about a half hour. One of the TSA agents is
having a bad day or something and bustles around barking at people.
“Don’t put that there, that’s what the trays are for,” she
says. “Move around that wheel chair. I don’t even know what it’s
doing there. (The wheelchair has a passenger who is in the place
another agent told her be.) Get that off the floor.” And so on.
True to form I’m
the one who has to have an abbreviated pat down. Bran’s later
arrival on the scene puts him at the end of the rush, and he clears
in a fifth of the time we took.
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| Sharon and Brandon walk around in the art installation at the Qantas terminal |
Our flight is
supposed to take 15 hours, a long time to be on a plane. We’re
sitting in adjacent rows, Sharon and I in front of the guys, and we
have empty seats between us. This will make it marginally more
comfortable, and for these flights the seats have a bit more leg room
than you’d find on your average American domestic flight.
We have lots of
entertainment options and sleep as best we can. We’re given snacks
and water at regular intervals -- if we're awake -- and will be
served breakfast after they turn the cabin lights up eight or so
hours later.
Sunday, Oct. 2
What happened to
Saturday? We skipped it. We left on Friday and arrived on Sunday.
It’s confusing, I know. And the worst of it is, we’ll leave on
Friday and arrive on Friday. I hope God’s keeping track and plans
to give me that day back somehow.
When we touch down
in Sydney, we appear to be an hour later than our schedule indicated,
but it turns out that daylight saving time has begun in Australia.
Unfortunately the listed time of departure for Melbourne hasn't
changed. We have to clear immigration, pick up our bags, clear
customs and get to another terminal.
The immigration
section is highly automated and speeds us through that part, except
for Aaron, who is wearing his glasses, which seems to confuse the
automated system, so he has to be cleared by a human. Customs was no
problem, and the area where we need to grab a shuttle to the other
terminal is also the area where we recheck our backs and go through
security.
Sharon runs into a
problem in security. She’s brought a small quilt to work on and a
small pair of scissors that conform to TSA regs. That was OK for the
flight over, but they’re not allowed at all in Australia, and her
scissors are confiscated.
While she’s
dealing with that a security person walks up to Brandon and pulls him
aside to check his backpack and belt for drugs or explosive residue.
Turns out this is a random procedure they employ, but I’m feeling
much less travel persecuted than before. In fact, he'll be checked at
least one other time while we're in county. Once cleared, we hop on a
shuttle and are quickly taken to our new terminal, arriving 10
minutes before boarding time. Not bad. We’d have never made it
through that fast at DFW.
 |
| Sign outside Melbourne airport. We're here! |
We meet a rep for
the tour company and head for our chariot to the hotel. The vehicle
turns out to be less chariot and more rolling piece of junk, at least
as far as the side door is concerned. The door grows crankier the
more stops we make. By the time we reach our hotel, the thing won’t
open at all. The only way out is through the back door, but we have
to remove all our luggage first, and then persuade the concierge to
bring us a step stool so we don’t have to jump three feet to the
ground. One of the ladies remarks that she hopes this won't be an
omen for the trip.
We are early for
check-in, but the lady at the counter takes our luggage and says
they'll have it put in our rooms when they're ready for us. We walk
down to the river Yarra, which flows behind our hotel, and found a
restaurant to have lunch. We all had the fish and chips, made with
rockling, apparently a common fish in Australia and quite delicious,
and then wander around a bit before going back to the hotel.
After freshening up,
we meet our tour director, Tony, who is a first-rate character. He’s
going to be a lot of fun. We sign up for an excursion for the next
day and chill until supper.
For supper, Tony
takes our group for a short walk to a tram station (street car), but
we’re not boarding a tram to go to the restaurant, the tram is the
restaurant -- The Colonial Tramcar Restaurant. Each car is outfitted
as a dining car, with four tables per car. We have a choice of main
dishes and complimentary drinks while the tram rolls through the city
out to the suburb of St. Kilda, down to Port Phillip Bay and back.
Really cool way to start the trip, and whatever omen the trip on the
airport shuttle might represent, this experience has certainly
brightened the prospects.
Back to the hotel
and sleep, blessed sleep.
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