Spent most of Monday travelling, including a six hour stint transitting Auckland airport. Always lots of fun, sitting around trying to entertain oneself. And once I had flown into the domestic terminal, I had to wait about three hours to even check in to the international flight. So waiting around, and having to keep an eye on my suitcase. At least with it only being a weekend trip, and not 'ohmigod I am leaving this country with my entire life in a bag' - trust me, I have done those before - it wasn't too heavy to lug around.
And the Superbowl was on the television to at least distract me for some part of the time waiting around. Although being by oneself, drinking coffee is probably not the best way to watch sports. Among friends, with lots of alcohol is usually better. Of course, has been a while since I have been with friends in a bar, and overdoing alcohol with dilantin pills is definitely a no-no.
Always interesting listening to conversations start up between strangers at airports or other travel hotspots - the Contiki 'meet up before travel' bar in London comes to mind in that second category. For instance, on Monday I heard the usual -
'who are you going for'
'Indianapolis because Chicago are always beating my team, Detroit'
'wouldn't that category of beating Detroit include most of the league'
'well at least we have the Red Wings'
- morph through the usual stasticial wizardry that American sports fans can come up with from the top of the head onto -
' what do you do'
'environmental scientist at Florida State, Tallahassee, down here after doing a trip to the Antarctic'
'wow, Tallahasse had a crap year in the leagues, didn't they'
'yeah, we even lost against Wake Forest, at home, 30 to nil - I was in London checking the scores online, screamed, and my wife came out and said what's going on'
'it's the coaches to blame - you can have the best players, but if they're not motivated...'
- finally leading into a discussion about how tariffs protecting the American auto industry (which are crap cars anyway as told by the two Americans conversing) are ruining any competitive advantage the US would have in green technology.
Hippy boy from Portlandoregon - said that way every time he said the city name - would have liked to import those Mercedes Smart cars, those ones that aren't much bigger than a postage stamp, but wouldn't be allowed by federal regulations. He rides a bike you see, rather than pollute the atmosphere with another car, and by the time I left, the Superbowl having ended, they were working their way up to a rant about George Dubya Bush and current environmental policies I think.
Earlier in the day, there was another group of Americans watching the game at another bar, towards the end of the second quarter and Peyton Manning was just tearing the Bears defence to shreds, and one of the girls said out loud, 'just stop him!' and then looked sheepishly around, embarrassed to show that much passion for the game, in an airport bar of all places.
On the way over to New Zealand, last Friday, the sunglass shop in Brisbane airport was playing The Prodigy's Smack My Bitch Up, which may or may not have been appropriate for a high visibility retail store with probable high density pedestrian traffic around, especially at 10am in the morning. What on earth would the kiddies think? Though it must be a totally boring job, however many times I have seen sunglass stalls at airports, and maybe once or twice I have seen people looking at the merchandise.
Although the six hours in Auckland awaiting transit pales into insignificance compared to the twelve hour stint I had at LAX one time. Connecting from Auckland to Chicago (or possibly on the way back) and a change to the itinerary basically at the last minute, maybe with about five days warning from my travel agent. Back in the days when you did go to travel agents to figure out your holidays.
The twelve hours was an absolute killer - I wasn't flush with money, so forwent - if that is a word - the option of going into LA or Santa Monica or any of the other destinations in the city, to save money and stick around the airport. Thus started me reading Anthony Beevor's book about Stalingrad, for two hour stints at a time, getting up, finding another seat, and then starting reading all over again. Never again will I spend that long in an airport. Even the six hours in Auckland last weekend was probably a mistake of mine.
Airport time always seems to drag though, even if you are in airport for only two hours it seems like twelve. And it is even worse at night or in the early morning. When I was in Cairo, I had to be out at the airport by 6am I think, and thus I went by taxi from the hostel I was staying at around about 3.30 in the morning. Dark, foreign, couldn't check in, and only hard metal chairs to sit on for about two hours. It felt like forever.
It's funny, I can remember going to the airport, I can remember waiting to check in, but after checking in I can't remember a thing until getting back to London and booking to stay in a pencil box in Kensington for about 70 quid a night, and getting onto the Underground from Heathrow to the airport. Nothing about the flight whatsoever. I guess my memory banks were full to overflowing remembering all the six weeks in the Middle East beforehand.
And here I go again, talking about my travels, when others easily switch off and get bored with other people's experiences. Sorry, will wrap it up here and think of a less boring topic for my next one.
Paul
And the Superbowl was on the television to at least distract me for some part of the time waiting around. Although being by oneself, drinking coffee is probably not the best way to watch sports. Among friends, with lots of alcohol is usually better. Of course, has been a while since I have been with friends in a bar, and overdoing alcohol with dilantin pills is definitely a no-no.
Always interesting listening to conversations start up between strangers at airports or other travel hotspots - the Contiki 'meet up before travel' bar in London comes to mind in that second category. For instance, on Monday I heard the usual -
'who are you going for'
'Indianapolis because Chicago are always beating my team, Detroit'
'wouldn't that category of beating Detroit include most of the league'
'well at least we have the Red Wings'
- morph through the usual stasticial wizardry that American sports fans can come up with from the top of the head onto -
' what do you do'
'environmental scientist at Florida State, Tallahassee, down here after doing a trip to the Antarctic'
'wow, Tallahasse had a crap year in the leagues, didn't they'
'yeah, we even lost against Wake Forest, at home, 30 to nil - I was in London checking the scores online, screamed, and my wife came out and said what's going on'
'it's the coaches to blame - you can have the best players, but if they're not motivated...'
- finally leading into a discussion about how tariffs protecting the American auto industry (which are crap cars anyway as told by the two Americans conversing) are ruining any competitive advantage the US would have in green technology.
Hippy boy from Portlandoregon - said that way every time he said the city name - would have liked to import those Mercedes Smart cars, those ones that aren't much bigger than a postage stamp, but wouldn't be allowed by federal regulations. He rides a bike you see, rather than pollute the atmosphere with another car, and by the time I left, the Superbowl having ended, they were working their way up to a rant about George Dubya Bush and current environmental policies I think.
Earlier in the day, there was another group of Americans watching the game at another bar, towards the end of the second quarter and Peyton Manning was just tearing the Bears defence to shreds, and one of the girls said out loud, 'just stop him!' and then looked sheepishly around, embarrassed to show that much passion for the game, in an airport bar of all places.
On the way over to New Zealand, last Friday, the sunglass shop in Brisbane airport was playing The Prodigy's Smack My Bitch Up, which may or may not have been appropriate for a high visibility retail store with probable high density pedestrian traffic around, especially at 10am in the morning. What on earth would the kiddies think? Though it must be a totally boring job, however many times I have seen sunglass stalls at airports, and maybe once or twice I have seen people looking at the merchandise.
Although the six hours in Auckland awaiting transit pales into insignificance compared to the twelve hour stint I had at LAX one time. Connecting from Auckland to Chicago (or possibly on the way back) and a change to the itinerary basically at the last minute, maybe with about five days warning from my travel agent. Back in the days when you did go to travel agents to figure out your holidays.
The twelve hours was an absolute killer - I wasn't flush with money, so forwent - if that is a word - the option of going into LA or Santa Monica or any of the other destinations in the city, to save money and stick around the airport. Thus started me reading Anthony Beevor's book about Stalingrad, for two hour stints at a time, getting up, finding another seat, and then starting reading all over again. Never again will I spend that long in an airport. Even the six hours in Auckland last weekend was probably a mistake of mine.
Airport time always seems to drag though, even if you are in airport for only two hours it seems like twelve. And it is even worse at night or in the early morning. When I was in Cairo, I had to be out at the airport by 6am I think, and thus I went by taxi from the hostel I was staying at around about 3.30 in the morning. Dark, foreign, couldn't check in, and only hard metal chairs to sit on for about two hours. It felt like forever.
It's funny, I can remember going to the airport, I can remember waiting to check in, but after checking in I can't remember a thing until getting back to London and booking to stay in a pencil box in Kensington for about 70 quid a night, and getting onto the Underground from Heathrow to the airport. Nothing about the flight whatsoever. I guess my memory banks were full to overflowing remembering all the six weeks in the Middle East beforehand.
And here I go again, talking about my travels, when others easily switch off and get bored with other people's experiences. Sorry, will wrap it up here and think of a less boring topic for my next one.
Paul
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