In Transit - From there to here via somewhere else

International travel and airports – erghh!  It’s great to be here, but the getting to here was not clearly detailed in my itinerary.  I guess most people have noticed that airports are strange bubbles filled with people with hopeful expressions, or dog-tired faces, and sometimes just plain odd people.  I became one of the odd people that other travelers had just cause in avoiding.

The flight from Sydney to Windhoek promised to be a little more luxurious than usual with my flight attendant cousin scheduled to staff my flight.  Nat only does First or Business class and this was the first time in 23 years we had managed to be in the same place at the same time.  The omens were good.  I had 3 seats to myself – what bliss for a 14 hour flight.  Moments later, Nat appeared with a glass of champagne followed by an attendant who handed me First Class audio headphones which I discovered were vastly superior to the cattle class variety.  This was going to be a good flight.

Half an hour later, I still had my 3 seats but not much else was happening.  Nat appeared again with a first class toiletry pack (ooohhh, very noicce indeed), some PJs, nibbles and another glass of champagne and hints of an upgrade to come.

Another half an hour, still waiting for that call to proceed up the stairs to the bubble part of the 747.  But no, Nat breezed past again with some unwelcome news – one of the engines wasn’t co-operating and there was a good chance we would be off-loaded for a 4 hour wait for a replacement plane.

And so it was, minutes later I found myself back in the terminal clutching a $30 meal voucher, hauling my ridiculously overweight laptop bag, wheelie cabin bag and now two plastic bags, one with duty free and the other with Qantas PJs, toiletry pack and some fresh fruit and a 4 hour wait ahead of me – not good for a recalcitrant smoker who hasn’t quite managed to give up yet.

In the meantime, my potential upgrading cuzz was reassigned to a Singapore flight, taking with her not just her lovely, sunny personality but the promise of – well, you all know what I was hanging out for.

So, I thought I’d take a turn around the concourse.  As I shuffled about like a heavily-laden donkey, I heard a sort of pinging noise and noticed a 10 x 2cm strip of metal exploding from my sturdy, hiking boots.  (Always wear them on flights because they take up too much packing room).  Very soon after that I noticed I had developed a walk which involved quite a lot of foot dragging.  Those thick soles on one of my sturdy, hiking boots had become unstuck.  Now I was a heavily-laden donkey with a limp. 

So I headed for a coffee shop for a pick me up whilst I considered what to do about my boot.  As I neared said coffee shop, yet another piece of metal exploded from my other boot, narrowly missing another passenger in transit.  He looked at me with a very disturbed expression, so I correctly determined this would not be a good time to attempt a “failed shoe-bomber”” joke.  Now a heavily-laden donkey with a limp looked pretty good compared to me with both feet dragging along the ground to keep both soles from disengaging.  I imagine I looked very odd indeed.

Where was I going to find a pair of cheap shoes in an international airport?  Aussie Beach shop to the rescue.  A pair of two-toned smooth-soled beach sneakers.  It occurred to me that these would be great for heaving my girth up a dune, although equally, they would offer little or no resistance to the occasional Cape Cobra or Puff Adder – but decided not to focus on that!  Said sturdy, hiking books had given me 15 years so they were retired into a large garbage bin, which I presume also looked very odd and equally disturbing.

It then occurred to me that I would definitely miss my connecting flight to Windhoek which I knew to be the last of the day.  Was I supposed to sleep in Jo-burg airport, would Qantas rebook me for (hopefully, not the first 6.15am) flight the next day – probably – but when were they planning to let me know so I could let the Namibia gang know?

So I went in search of the Airport Information kiosk to find where Qantas was.  Strangely, it was no longer located under the “Airport I”” sign but after some time found it staffed by – well, I’m going to call them “”Bill and Ben, the info men”” – both retired, but not at all retiring who really didn’t know but were tremendously entertaining.  We had a great old chat about the Boar War and how …. well, you had to be there.

How is it that a privately-owned, international airport that earns millions of dollars in profit has an information kiosk staffed by volunteers???  Yeah, alright, one way of generating those extra profits – free staff!

Gave up on getting advance information, adopted a vacant stare and waited for boarding.  Sadly, I had been reassigned to another seat but still had a spare next to me, so can’t complain.  A few minutes before landing at Jo’burg, those of us who had missed their connections were advised we would be staying at the Southern Star Hotel and that we needed to check with the Qantas staff in the terminal for onward flight information and to get a lift to the hotel.

This meant I would have to clear my checked luggage through SA customs and recheck it the next day – not a problem really, except my luggage was shall we say a little on the portly side and I had managed to sweet talk Sydney check-in staff to let me have those few extra kgs free.  Anyway, that was tomorrow's problem.

Went through customs, noticed a few people milling around an Emirates sign but proceeded to the outside terminal, whereupon, could not find any Qantas staff and joined a bunch of other confused and lost passengers at the Airport Info desk who were similar to Bill & Ben in that they had no idea what we were talking about but without Bill & Ben’s sense of humour.

Anyway, to cut to the chase, we had to get back inside the baggage hall (as the Emirates counter was actually the Qantas counter but someone forgot to change the sign) but security wouldn’t let us back in – so after a lot of begging, pleading we were taken back by a very circuitous route and managed to get the last bus to the hotel – phew.

It was only then that I realised I had forgotten to get my phone switched to international roaming (think of AMO sitting in Sydney airport with nothing to do when she could've been organising her phone) but did manage to contact Optus in Sydney and get it organised.  Honestly, I think I’m getting a bit dotty in my old age.

Managed to sweet talk my portly luggage through check in the next day and proceeded to Windhoek where I was warmly welcomed by Peter & Helga.

So, that’s it for now.  Promise next blog will be shorter and definitely more interesting!  It's a bit chilly tonight so I’m sitting here in my excellent Qantas PJs for Very Important Passengers!