The best place to start was probably the plane flight and the awfulness that is LAX. It was my first time there since I was 11, and I found out why everyone hates LAX — the logic of the airport runs counter to any other airport I've ever found. Anywhere. Except Auckland, but more on that later. If you've never been, LAX consists of a series of six or seven unconnected terminals, a la JFK in NYC. The difference, however, is that there is nothing connecting each terminal. Usually, a traveler might hop on a connector train, like the airtram at JFK, which rotates between the terminals at regular, five minute-ish intervals for no charge. LAX, however, much like LA as a city, is only linked by roads and cars. No car, no luck. I arrived from Seattle at Terminal 6 and needed to only walk a block to get to Terminal 2, but there was no way. Fences block every path. After meandering, being lost, and walking four blocks out of the way, I did safely get to my terminal. Relaxed and back on track, I was reminded how easy the "is the passenger from the departure point or the destination" game is on international flights.
Luckily, on my 13 hour LAX to Auckland flight I was able to sleep about eight hours. This isn't to say they were the most comfortable hours of sleep in my history (I may have slept eight hours, but I was awoken that many times, as well), but I slept. And had a bizarre series of plane crash dreams. I blame turbulence. And the Speight's beer they offered me for free. Yes, Air New Zealand actually serves beer that one needn't purchase. Astounding.
I complained constantly for two weeks before I left about how this whole affair did not seem real. Nothing set in. I finally had my "I'm traveling again" moment at the Auckland Airport. There, after customs, there is actually a 15 minute walk between the "international" terminal and "domestic terminal." In all my travels, I've never had to do said walk outside between terminals, and I did it twice in a day. Anyway, it was 5am, cold, and raining when I stepped into the Auckland air, which immediately reminded me of several experiences in my time in Europe (the Belfast airport comes to mind) and I felt right again. On the road, like I like it.
New Zealand border security was interesting for reasons it shouldn't have been. The initial lines at customs were separated into several sections: one for NZ nationals, one for Australians, one for everyone else, and, most importantly one for the French rugby team. I wasn't aware, but les bleus are starting a series of three tests with the All Blacks this Saturday. See below.
Makes me simulatneously happy and disappointed I chose not to bring my les bleus jersey. The border was almost too easy until the baggage check. Apparently the kiwis are strict about bringing in foreign organic substances into the country. This makes sense considering the uniqueness of the New Zealand ecosystem (see, kiwi bird). They were so concerned that I had to declare that I was bringing in two pairs of rugby boots. I was forced to show them and, when one was deemed too dirty, they even cleaned a pair. I joked that I should come through customs more often. The customs worker did not find it funny.
Eventually, I did make it to Christchurch. The flight between Auckland and CHC reminded me quite a bit of flying over Scotland. Highlands and water and all that. The flight was a few minutes late because of a systems failure. Not sure why they needed to tell of the passengers that bit of information. Of course, Coach Wayne remembered my arrival time wrong by 15 minutes, so I spent 10 minutes wandering around the Christchurch airport looking for him. I did eventually find him and was happy to see the man.
This was the end of my A to B travels. It seems a waste to spend an entire post about the plane flight, but too late. Deal with it. I'll post a first few days update soon, but it largely deals with things getting put off, just as a spoiler alert.
Cheers,
Craig
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