Thursday, July 19, 2018

Yep, yet another "Oh here we go again" story


I'm forever having experiences'.  

It's back to the questions I asked myself recently: "Why is it that some of us are blessed with extraordinary experiences and stories about basic things in life that others never have?"
Just plain ordinary things that get all jumbled up, or go wrong or awry.

Think my recent, and seemingly simple experiences of turning up for my 35 minute flight from Taupo to Auckland  - on 2 occasions in the past weeks - and on both occasions my ending up sitting on a bus - a bus trip to Auckland, a 4 hour bus trip - due to aeroplanes not flying. 
Or my renovations a couple of years ago where everything possible went wrong. From the plastering,  the plumbing, the wiring, the carpentry, the installations, the excavations, the flooring, the windows; you name it, it all went wrong. Even the many tradesmen working on the property kept shaking their heads and exclaiming they had never worked on jobs where so many things had gone wrong.

Even now, at this very moment my phone refuses to connect to WiFi yet Big Son is sitting right next to me and his phone is working on WiFi perfectly.  He's attempted several times to figure out why mine will not connect but has given up based on the fact that its Mum's phone so even though its not a cheap one if it's hers then its bound to be weird.  So he's given up.

So. Why is it that on an almost daily basis ‘things' so frequently happen to me?   At lease on this occasion it involved finally involved someone else – Big Son.

This particular ‘happening' should never have been. After all, this was a well prepared and well planned event that ‘he' (Big Son) had planned and prepped for - ie: it wasn't me who did the work, so therefore it should have been plain sailing, so to speak.

But nooo.

It was some weeks ago when I was staying with Big Son in Auckland we planned that he would join his mother in Waikiki for a week or two: and as well as spending a nice time together there we could also spend 4 days of that period on the island Maui. Neither of us been to the island of Maui before thus it would be a great opportunity to share a lovely sojourn together. 
😊

So that day Big Son goes onto his computer and books 2 seats on a local airline to fly us both to Maui and back.  Simple, expensive, but done.  We're all set. Happy family.

Time to be in Honolulu comes, Big Son flies in a few days after me and we have a lovely time.  Then comes our morning to fly to Maui.

This is not like the Taupo to Auckland flights - there is no fog here - the flights keep happening.

The day before our flight we plan well in advance - we figure out how we would get to airport – we will catch the standard and very regular public bus. We even walked to the bus stop to check we knew the exact stop and had got all our planning tickety-boo.

Meanwhile, we organise that the day before our flight to Maui we will bus over to the lovely Phaedra's town to have a lovely day with her - and she will show us her home town, enjoying her sun, sand, biking and cocktails. It was a super day. We caught the public bus, no problems or difficulties ... (well maybe one ... we forgot to get off at the correct stop.  But we  needed the extra long and hot walk anyway.  Not.
😕)  But no problem with the bus and the views along on the ride.  Easy peasy.

We had a great day.  We happily stayed and enjoyed hers and Cory's company during the day and we delighted to stay and enjoy the good company over the evening meal.  But ever conscious of our pending 8.30 a.m. flight to Maui in the morning we made the strong decision to not over imbibe in good wine, good food and great company – we departed at 9 p.m. on our 40 minute return journey to the apartment in Waikiki.

  
Once there we packed our little carry on bags and sat to plan our strategy for the morning.

We would set both our alarms for 5.30.m.  Coffee, tea, shower & leave apartment at 6.20 a.m. to walk to the bus stop & catch the 6.35 a.m. bus to the airport - a simple 50 minute bus ride there - it would get us there over an hour before departure.  Ample time. Ample relaxing journey. No dramas.

Huh.

Slept well. Both our alarms went off on cue. Coffee and tea made and drunk. Showers done & we leave the apartment with ample time up our sleeves.  Feeling quite chuffed.  Get to bus stop with 10 minutes to spare. 
Come 6.35 a.m. – expected bus arrival time - no bus. 6.40, no bus.   6.45 no bus. 6.50 no bus. Now was the time to begin to get flustered.   We toss up. Continue waiting for a non arrival bus?  Or flag a taxi?  It's pre 7 a.m. on Sunday morning ... there were no taxis driving past to flag down.

We turn our expensive mobile data on to check on bus and/or taxi companies.  It tells us all buses are ‘DELAYED'. Great!  Panic.

Then bus arrives.  And a tortuously, seemingly long 50 minute drive to airport.
 
Should get there at 7.50 a.m. for our 8.30 a.m. flight.  Not quite the hour before that we had planned.  Hopefully check in is only 30 minutes prior to departure!  But we are still somewhat sweating over having our unexpected time delay.

Having caught the airport bus before Verna knows to check with the driver which of the 3 stops we need to get off at once we arrive at the airport - which one to get to our airline's departure area.

What airline you flying on? he asks.

We tell him. Terminal 2, he tells us.  Big Son says his printed paperwork says Terminal 3.  It used to be, says bus driver, but they are doing renovations at Terminal 3 so your airline has moved to Terminal 2. 

Oh, ok,  says I.

At 7.50 we get off at Terminal 2.

Funny, I thought, all the airline signs are for the big international airlines.... not the tiny local airline that we are flying on.  We look around for any signs directing us to the local airline.  There are none.

The bus has gone, Big Son is not happy. 

He's not convinced we are at the right terminal.  We go inside, looking for any sign, any information that would tell us if we are at the right terminal.  Time is ticking.  There is no sign, no information booth. We have no idea which way to head. Time is ticking.  Our flight leaves at 8.30.  It's nearly 8.

We see an airport employee. We ask him if he knows where our airline flies from. He looks at us completely blank.  He has no idea.  He says he'll go ask one of the ticketing ladies at the ticketing booth we are standing near. Time is ticking. They have a long & involved conversation - she clearly knows what she is talking about and is constantly nodding and pointing to Terminal 1.

He comes back. Terminal 1 he says.  How long does it take to walk there? says I.

7 minutes,  says he.  We look at our watching, we are panicking.  We begin the really fast walk-come-jog to Terminal 1 – with back packs and carry ons on our backs - and in the really, really hot and still air of the 29 degree sun.

Big Son is spitting tacks about the advice the bus driver gave us and is dragging the chain. I look back - he's stopped and on the phone - I'm not convinced it's Terminal 1, he says ... he's not convinced. ... his paperwork said Terminal 3. He wants to believe his printed paper work.  Despite the bus driver saying Terminal 3 is under going renovations and all airlines have moved, and despite the airport employees confirming that same fact Big Son is not convinced. 

Time is ticking.  We are pouring in sweat,  due to panic and heat.  We do not want to have to pay another $600 plus for another flight.

He telephones the airline – an employee answers – he asks the question – what terminal is your airline flying from today? Now?

Err... I'm not sure, says the telephone line employee.  Big Son gets very grumpy ...telephone employee goes and asks someone else in his office.  Comes back, Terminal 3, he says, definitely Terminal 3.

We really panic.  WHERE IS TERMINAL 3?!

There are no signs anywhere for Terminal 3.
Big Son spits yet more tacks over the "useless bus driver" and the "useless airline workers".

Where is friggin' Terminal 3?!

We spot way in the distance a road sign with an arrow for 'Car Parking Terminal 3'.  We jointly figure, where there is a car park for Terminal 3 there must be a Terminal 3.

We now RUN to the direction the road sign pointed to for Terminal 3.  The footpath runs out – the road to Terminal 3 has no pedestrian or bike access. 

We RUN back into Terminal 2 building in the hope we can find an exit sign with the words or direction to Terminal 3.  There is none.

We are really in a panic.  Minutes have passed, it's only minutes to our flight.
We run past another airline employee, who can see we are in a panic.  Puffing and sweating I ask her how do we get to Terminal 3?

She looks at us with those soulful eyes one has when they're about to tell you your adorable, much loved axalotle has just died.... oooh .... she says, shaking her head ... it's a long way away .... you go a long way down there (pointing to a long way down there) ... you come to an Enterprise sign.... you go round the really long bend by that building... you keep going on till you get to the traffic lights ... then at the traffic lights you turn right (my head is screaming at her by now) .... keep going along there till you get to the Delta and United buildings.... you turn right there.... go in between those buildings ... then keep going and you'll get to Terminal 3 ....

She looks at us with complete pity written all over her face.

We RUN. He ran & she ran. She ran & he ran. Heavy back packs and carry ons swinging from side to side. We ran. We sweat.  We ran.  We sweat.

We ran all the way down there. We got to Enterprise.  We ran along that looooong bend and we kept going.  We got to the traffic lights. We turned right.  We ran aaaallll the way along there. Big Son spotted the Delta & United buildings.....  we ran between them.  We kept running.

Are all those decades of running going to finally pay off? I thinks.

Kept running.Sweat pouring down and dripping onto the ground.  Then suddenly I realised couldn’t hear Big Son’s heavy breathing behind me any more.  I turned. He wasnt behind me.  He was walking up the steps of a really small, non-descript, beige painted, prefabricated building.

I stop and run back. I look up and it says ‘Terminal 3'.   What!?  This is it?  This tiny little shack? 

Yes.

Hot, totally worn out and puffed and panting, soaking wet with sweat and panic perspiration we enter the building.  There are other people standing and waiting.   The plane take is late.  It's working on 'island time'.  We made it! 

Yes, you're ok for your flight, the man says.  ‘Relax'. 

Then we saw the plane. 

It was no 747.  It was no 380.

It was tiny.  With only one engine, only one propeller.  To fly over all that ocean.

Do we REALLY want to go to Maui? I thought ..... 

 


Saturday, July 14, 2018

No Birthday Blues




Tis an important week this week.  For this coming Friday is a special day. A day forever etched in my mind.


It’s Tony’s birthday.  


It is really difficult to comprehend that had he not been targeted by a ghastly brain tumour then he would have been turning 80 on Friday. 


I am sure most of my friends and family will look at that number and never comprehend that Tony could ever had hit that figure, even if he was still alive – for he was a Peter Pan of our world.  He, his heart and his soul never aged.


The tumour certainly had him visibly and physically age in his last years, but even then when we were with him he still remained a Peter Pan to us all.


At this very moment I am sitting in an apartment here in Honolulu and on the wall next to me is a photograph of Tony taken only weeks before he departed our living world.  He is sitting in a wheelchair, being pushed by his mate Jerry, with me walking beside them. He was totally stricken by the tumour at this stage, with only weeks to live, but he sits in the chair wearing one of his many Ironman shirts and a cap on his head.  The manner in which he is sitting in that chair and the silly grin on his face shows the fact that whilst the tumour was aggressively destroying his brain and taking his life it still wasn’t able to take his heart and his soul – he was still our Peter Pan.




It is well past 5 years since he left us.


I do so miss that man.  He meant so much to me.  He still does.  That will never change.


And the grief will never go.  


Only three months ago I was privileged to listen to a very special man, a very special friend, give a speech on grief – and the legacy of grief.  After he gave the most moving and enlightening speech I wanted very much to ask him if I could have a written copy of what he had presented.  I had done this on occasion before and he had been most complimented that I thought so much of his words and was always very happy to send me a copy.


However on this occasion I held back asking him for a copy of this particular speech, for his speech was relating to the loss of his 16 year old daughter, in tragic circumstances, some 10 years ago.  Such a tragic loss of a beautiful life of one of his children; I felt it inappropriate this time to ask for a draft of his words.  But I did email him and thanked him for presenting what I considered the best explanation of what grief is to the audience we had that day.


He had known I would find the speech personal, so much so that he came to me prior to his delivery to let me know what he would be speaking about but that he hoped I understood why he was delivering it.  

After he finished his presentation he came and hugged me, for as he said, “We have joined a special club that neither of us wanted to join.” 


His speech was about how he and his wife felt, thought and accepted the grief they had thrown at them. That grief was not a negative emotion. And how the words so many who care for you use, the words “you must move on” are so irrelevant.  


He hit the nail on the head.   

We don’t ‘move on’ from grief.  Grief does not go away, it will always be there, no matter what is happening now or in the future.  For while grief is a strong emotion it is one that can be fulfilling and rewarding, for it is a reminder of what was and how lucky we were.


He hit the nail on the head, grief is to be embraced and not ‘moved on’ and buried behind our living souls.  And we should not feel we have to hold back the tears; tears that we still shed should be looked upon as good tears, special tears, positive tears of reflection, of joy and the happiness that we had.  





My life has taken some interesting paths since Tony passed away in 2013, none more so than the paths over the past two years.  

I sold the family home, the house that Tony and I shared so much joy, happiness and love in: but the house had become a mausoleum to Tony for every room, every wall, every window, every door had Tony’s hand print, Tony's memory on them.  While I still remained in the house it would forever have me living in a structure of grief.  I needed to ‘move on’.  But that’s in the physical, not in the soul, for the soul is more solid than the physical.  Never ask the soul to move on.


The move, the choices I have made in resetting my life has created some amazing chances, opportunities, adventures and luck.   

I am the happiest now than I have been in well over ten years for it was ten and a half years ago that Tony was diagnosed with the malignant tumour.  


Everything I have done since Tony’s move to reside in the heavens I have felt he would have nodded and said ‘good decision darling’.  I don’t make them without wondering what his thoughts would have been.  With each one I know he would have smiled his Peter Pan smile    I am sure he is smiling at me now.


So my life is rather different now.  I am me, independent me.  I am grasping every moment of every day, his passing taught me that.  



My life is not only different it is wonderfully chaotic.   

The happiness is deep due to the people in it, people that I feel total privilege to be able to share time with - family, wonderful loyal friends and so many newly treasured ones that I have met since my move to another town.  I have been lucky.  I have been lucky that with grief has come this happiness and final contentment, that I am blessed with Tony always remaining in my life and with others who are giving me the happiness that Tony would always wish me to have.


Happy birthday Tony.



 




RIP:  Andy Bray

Another special man - now sharing speeches with Tony.

Thursday, July 5, 2018

Is it me? Or do other people always have things turn out differently than planned?




It was the first official day of my soon-to-be-an-amazing-vacation.   

I was to fly from Taupo to Auckland, stay the night at friends, then board a great big aeroplane at 7 in the morning and fly over the Tasman Sea to the Gold Coast of ‘Stralia’.

The reason for heading to the Gold Coast? Why, to run, of course (that is a “Yeah, right” statement).  Whilst there is a run involved my personal real purpose was to enjoy the camaraderie of a number of my good friends.  Twelve of us, plus surplus family members.  Real potential for happy times, making memories and having many laughs.

So my next four months of experiences and adventures were planned to begin on that first flight from Taupo to Auckland.  

I woke early, popped my head out of the window to check the weather, it was minus 1 degree with frost covering the lawns.  I had asked my flatmate the day before if he would take me to the airport.  He had kindly agreed.  But the minus 1 degree temperature meant that his little and old car which sits outside over night was covered in a thick layer of ice.  We walked out, looked at the car and knew it would take some time to rid the car windscreen of this annoyance.  “Oh well, let’s use mine,” I said.  My car was garaged overnight and would be fine.  We did.  

He duly drove me to the airport and we commented on what a nice morning it was, despite not being able to see the mountains due to cloud. We said goodbye and I asked him to be careful parking the car back in the garage – he assured me he would. Plane was due to fly out at ten past nine; it is a daily flight I often enjoy watching flying over my house each morning.  At nine o’clock the announcement came over the loud speaker, “Due to fog the flight from Taupo to Auckland has now been cancelled.  For those passengers who still wish to get to Auckland today, Air New Zealand will be chartering a bus to take you there.  At this point in time we cannot make a definite time for the bus departure, we apologise for the inconvenience and will keep you informed once we have more information.”  

Oh great, a bus ride to Auckland.  Whenever a bus arrives.

Up in Auckland son Danny had arranged for me to use his car in the city for the day by parking it in the airport public carpark and leaving the keys in an envelope at an Air New Zealand desk for me to uplift once my flight arrived.  He had prewarned me that the car parking cost would be quite expensive as the car would be there for 2 hours before I arrived to utilise it.  “Never mind,” I said, “I’m just very grateful to have a car to utilise the day.”  I then made three appointments in the city – nothing like maximising every minute I can.

But now I was sitting in Taupo Airport with no notion of when a bus would be turning up.  

Being philosophical, methinks, ‘ah well, not much I can do about this, may as well maximise the unexpected free time I have, I’ll get out my brand new little laptop PC and do some work on it.’   This is an opportunity, not a negative. I’ll get things done.  Good.  

Haul laptop out of bag, open it up, turn it on.  It won’t turn on.  I push the turn on button.  It won’t turn on.  Grrr… I push the button again.  It won’t turn on.  I hold the button down … it won’t turn on.  Bother. I control/alt/delete – it won’t turn on.  Maybe it has run out of battery.  I pull out the power lead and plug it in, then push the start button.  It won’t turn on.  I try another electric point; it won’t turn on.  I am beginning to get grumpy.  Very grumpy.  Icy morning. No plane. No bus.  No computer working. This brand new PC, the one that has cost me many dollars to purchase and have IT nerds load it all correctly is not damn well turning on.  Grrr.

Grumpy equals = time for a coffee to help appease, to be purchased at the only coffee bar in the very small airport.  As it will be a long day and I have had no breakfast – due to planning on eating at the Koru Club in Auckland once I had arrived at the airport – I sought out foodstuffs at the coffee bar.   Yuk. The only food on option was those horrid biscuits in jars, or a Double Chocolate & Cream Cheese muffin.  As much as I cannot stand chocolate in muffins I succumbed to the common sense value that I may have to wait hours until we get to Auckland so a little bit of food for nutrition now will be good for me; besides I didn’t have to eat the whole muffin, just some and throw the rest away.

Coffee was shite.  Muffin was horrible, truly horrible.  And hard and stale.
I was becoming more than more than grumpy.  I was now irate.  Car iced up.  No plane. No bus. No working PC. Horrible coffee.  Inedible and very stale muffin.

I sat and sulked.  What a waste of energy that was.  

Bus eventually arrives.  People eventually climb on board.  Driver eventually begins to drive.  We drive to Auckland, stopping for 15 minutes at Matamata for toilets.  Heading back onto the highway we arrive at Auckland airport at 2.15 p.m.

Into Domestic Terminal to uplift Danny’s car keys.  Over to car park to uplift car.  Car located.  Car parking account, $50.00.  $50.00!!   Grrrr..    Grrrreat start to my winter of holidays.

The original plan was for me to fly into Auckland, uplift Danny’s car (for about 10 or 12 bucks), go to my doctor’s and other appointments, go purchase some gifts for my holiday hosts, go purchase some clothing items needed to take on holiday with me, call on a dear friend unexpectedly, have a short run and a quick workout at the gym, then be back at Auckland Airport by 5 p.m. to meet Danny finishing his day’s work. 

Most of those plans were clearly not going to happen.  Appointments cancelled, joy and the anticipation of a run and workout, cancelled.  Did realise I could make the very important doctor’s appointment though.  So paid my $50 and headed into the city.

Traffic leaving the airport was abominable …. Stop start all the way … and it began raining … that horrible, depressing Auckland rain …..   

My holiday so far = iced up car, cancelled plane, broken brand new PC, rotten muffin, horrible coffee, extortionate car park fee, horrible traffic, rain.  Oh happy days!

Madness drive to get to my doctor’s appointment.  Despite the many traffic hold ups and weather challenges arrived two minutes before appointed time. Came out of her office with a prescription for necessary medications for the next four month period.  I asked her if she could recommend a pharmacy that would have the four month supply on hand.  She informed me the local one would definitely have all stock.  I went there.  Few minutes later he came out with a half filled script, seems he did not have all the medication in stock.  But I need it, says I, I am travelling abroad and need to take the medications with me.  “Oh,” says he, “I’ll ring around other pharmacists and find out if they have it in stock”.   Meanwhile he then begins to serve other customers.  Many other customers.  I intercede, “Excuse me, but I have to be at the airport in less than an hour, could you please make those phone calls for me.”    

“Oh yes, I’ll do that now,” he says, which suggested to me he had already forgotten about it.  Grrrr…

Fifteen minutes later he emerges, “I am terribly sorry but none of the other pharmacies have it in stock either.”   Grrrr.

This I had gathered would be the result, so had already put Plan B into mental action.  I will ask Big Son to come pick up said products prior to his flying out to Honolulu – all a bit of a bother, but the only option.  I leave the pharmacy, grumpy. 

Is anything going to go smoothly today?  Or on my holiday?  Am I actually going to get to the Gold Coast?  Will the plane be cancelled?

A quick look at my watch tells me to head straight back to the airport to pick up Danny – but I am most concerned about my brand new PC not turning on. It was purchased specifically for me to take on my 3 to 4 month sojourn overseas – I was flying out at 7 in the morning – with an unusable PC.  So on way to airport I quickly diverted off motorway and drive to a Noel Leaming shop – the franchise I purchased the PC from.

Took it in, showed the assistant what was not happening with it. She tried it.  She tried it again.  Then shrugged a shoulder of indifference and stated that as it was under warranty they would have to send it to a PC repair person, should take 7 to 10 working days.  But - I was flying out in 16 hours.
Gggrrrrrr, again.  Annoyed frustration had me pick the machine up, storm out to the car and drive, grumpily, and probably slightly manically straight to the airport.

Picked up a waiting Danny, explained to him the PC problem, asked he would drop me at my friends where I was staying the night, and to come in and see if he could have any answers to why it would not work.  

Once at Doug and Gaye’s, preliminary greetings over, we plugged said PC in, he pushed the on button.  It started!  

I couldn’t get it to go, Noel Leaming staff couldn’t get it to go – but one finger touch from him and it went  … how damned annoying … makes mother look like a complete twit.

I am a complete twit.

Staying at my friends was the perfect situation, they too were coming to Gold Coast, we were all on the same early morning flight, so we would share taxi to airport and enjoy the start of our Gold Coast holiday.  Early morning flight = 4 a.m. rising in the morning. 

A beautiful dinner served, one bottle of wine, another bottle of wine, a really cheap bottle of Doug’s wine, another opened – 11.30 at night we go to bed.  4 a.m. we rise.  Now, after all the frustration of the day before, the iced car, the flight cancelled, the bus ride, the horrid coffee, the more horrid muffin, the parking fee, the Auckland traffic, the Auckland rain, the badly stocked pharmacist, the unhelpful Noel Leaming assistance – and many other minor irritations later … finally the holiday was looking good!

Postscript:  It was.  One very happy lady.

Now, exactly 8 days later:  I have been back in Taupo for an entire 2 day period.  Getting chores and repacking for the next stage of my four months of adventure.  

I am booked on the early morning flight from Taupo to Auckland.  

I taxi to the airport this time, got no flatmate to drop me off.

Wave goodbye to taxi driver, tell him I’ll see him in October.  

Thirty minutes later, say hello to same taxi driver.  He’s the one chosen to drive the bus from Taupo airport to Auckland airport.  Due to fog!

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

 








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