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.
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.
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 .....
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