A Day We'd Like To Forget

Sunday

We woke up bright and early, checked out of our hotel, and hopped in a taxi for what we thought would be a quick cab ride to the airport. It was Sunday morning, after all. Traffic flowed smoothly on the toll motorway, although we did see the incongruous sight of bicyclists – lots of them – cycling on the shoulder. Can’t ever recall seeing bicyclists on a freeway in the USA. As soon as we took the airport exit, though, we basically had bumper-to-bumper traffic all the way to the International Terminal, for what seemed like at least 45 minutes. The meter kept climbing and the cab’s gas gauge was on "E". Mark tried to engage the Sri Lankan cabbie in small talk about his team's tough loss to Pakistan in the recent Twenty-Twenty Cricket final, but secretly Mark was really worried that we would either run out of cash, or he would run out of gas, and we’d be stuck hoofing it the rest of the way to the airport.

Sherry washing out our teacups in the hotel bathroom

Our hotel room overlooked the Chief Secretary's Building and Royal Botanic Gardens

For those of you who’ve never been there, the Sydney airport is big, and unfortunately we got dropped off at one end of the terminal when our Air New Zealand flight check-in was on the other end. We were running late, and it seemed like we rolled our luggage a good kilometer through the crowds at a half-run, trying to prod Ro to keep up. We would have barely made our flight on time, but it turns out it was delayed due to bad weather in Auckland, so Sherry had time to make her requisite coffee run and we picked up a few small souvenirs for the kiddies back home.

Our flight went well, because Ro was happy with his own personal in-flight entertainment system, watching WALL-E and Pinocchio, although he wasn’t too enamored of his smoked chicken frittata (the alternative was a salmon salad). Sherry amused herself with some Flight of the Conchords episodes (if you haven’t seen the one where Jemaine dates an Australian girl – gasp! – you owe it to yourself), while Mark caught The Boat That Rocked (very funny, highly recommended). About halfway through the flight, we ran into a major storm system that was affecting most of the North Island, causing us lots of turbulence, and a crackdown from the flight crew on people getting up to use the toilet. We got in late to Auckland, with only 50 minutes to get our bags, get through customs, switch to the Domestic Terminal, and check in again. We put Ro on one of two baggage trolleys (i.e. carts) so we’d make better time, and it worked pretty well. We breezed through customs, but when we went through the biological quarantine checkpoint, we hit a little snag.

Sherry carrying a pooped Ro through Auckland airport

The airport x-rayed our bags before we could leave the terminal to make sure we hadn’t brought any contraband into the country. Mark had filled out our arrival cards on the plane stating we had nothing to declare, and Sherry signed hers. Sherry’s purse got flagged as it went through x-ray, and she couldn’t for the life of her imagine why. Maybe Ro’s magic markers looked like a bottle of liquid? Our hearts sank and a lump appeared in our collective throats when the customs agent pulled an apple out of the side pocket. With an Australian sticker on it, no less! This was what the officer called a "major" [violation]. Turns out Sherry had taken it from our hotel in Darwin as a back-up snack on one of her outings with Ro, but never used it…and forgot all about it. Half an hour, lots of dirty looks, and NZ$200 later, we were on our way to the Domestic Terminal, sans one very expensive apple. Ro screaming to the agents “But I want my apple!” didn’t help our burgeoning reputation as Ugly Americans.

The most expensive apple you'll ever see

After running through the chilly rain pushing our trolleys (it was faster than waiting around for the shuttle) to the other terminal, we were all breathless, soaked, sweating, and dismayed to find that our flight to Tauranga had just closed to boarding a few minutes earlier, despite being delayed itself. Ro would occasionally hop off the trolley on the way and run with us, then hop back on a few seconds later, claiming “I’ve got my exercise, you can push me now.” The domestic counter agent was very helpful, though, seeing our look of disappointment as we looked up at the board and came over to ask if we needed any assistance. The next flight to Tauranga was booked up, but we were able to get on the last flight of the day. At last, we were finally able to hit the head, as our back teeth were swimming at that point.

Ro passing time in the Auckland airport

Waiting around the airport for four hours proved difficult trying to keep Ro entertained. He could only watch the title screens on the arcade games refresh so many times, you know? And we very nearly missed our delayed flight despite sitting only about a hundred feet from the gate. Apparently, they either didn’t put out an initial boarding call over the PA, or both of us didn’t hear it. All we heard was the final boarding call, so we were off and running again, with Sherry clumsily stuffing Ro’s markers, pad, and toy airplane into her bag as we ran down the gangway and out onto the tarmac. Once on the small turboprop, things went smoothly. Ro got his usual lolly from the stewardess, and happily watched the propellers spinning in the rain as the lights of Auckland receded below us.

Sherry trying to persuade Ro not to jump off the moving ride

It was cold, windy, and pouring rain when we arrived in Tauranga, making a mad dash from the plane into the terminal. Mark went to go pick up the car from long-term parking while Sherry and Ro waited for the bags. Unfortunately, the day could not be complete without one last hiccup. The exit gate from the parking lot wouldn’t work! Every time Mark tried to insert the parking ticket into the machine, it would just spit it back out and the ticket kept getting wetter and wetter in the rain. Mark backed up to let another driver give it a shot, but he didn’t have any luck either. The other driver said he would go back to the terminal to tell the airport staff about it, but Mark was in no mood to wait at this point. He circled the parking lot, looking for a gap in the fence, and ended up jumping the curb and driving on the sidewalk to get out. After putting Ro into a quick bath and bed, we collapsed on the couch with a bottle of port, glad to be home at last.