US0701

This was the holiday that almost didn't happen.

Imagine my reaction when, at 9pm on the evening before we were due to leave on a 10am flight, my dearly beloved discovered that his passport had expired. Not recently, either... five months previously ! Well, I sort of blame myself a little too. After all, he is just a man, so I should have checked on that minor detail personally. The worst part of this little dilemma was the fact that my reservation was made on frequent flyer points, so it couldn't be changed. At least his was OK to postpone. But that meant that I had to go ahead alone, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to go at all.

This is the point where I offer my heartfelt thanks to Capt. Tom of SOAR who has worked with me since "the panic attack" that prevented me from flying for several years. I still hadn't flown alone since then, so when the reality struck on that Queen's Birthday holiday Monday evening, anticipatory anxiety set in at about a 10, and I was sure I couldn't do it. (Incidentally, my initial reaction had been total numbness and disbelief, and it was a couple of hours before my mind began to work overtime.)

I hit the mattress at about 3am (maybe even later) and slept for perhaps two hours before facing the new day and committing myself (by now on auto-pilot) to going ahead with the flight. In the meantime, (Monday evening) Bill had contacted the travel agent for advice and he'd also managed to find somewhere open to have passport photos taken. I'd downloaded a renewal form and he needed to be at the passport office by 8.30am when they opened.

Craig drove us there, and he and I waited in the car while Bill went charging in (without as much as a "seeya") leaving us with "I'll ring you and let you know what's happening". He was first in line and managed to procure an appointment at 9am after telling a few porkies when they originally offered him one at 2.45pm. OK, that was better, but it definitely wasn't going to get him on the plane with me, since we needed to check in by 9.15. The 10am flight went to Sydney where we were to connect with the 1.25pm to Los Angeles. We hoped there was a chance he could catch the next flight to Sydney and still make the LA flight.

So this was where we parted company. Craig drove me to the airport while Bill waited for 9am to arrive. When it did, the first thing that happened was that he was sent to have more photos taken as the ones he had were apparently too small. Meanwhile, Craig and I arrived at the airport and, being in a hurry, asked an airport employee which was the queue for my flight. She directed us to one where not too many people were waiting, but we were soon to notice that the family at the check-in counter was waiting in vain for their luggage to be transported on the belt. Yep... it had broken down, and consequently the check-in queue was going nowhere.

After standing there for what seemed like an eternity, I commented to Craig that it looked like I was going to miss my flight anyway. The fella standing in front of us asked where I was going, and then proceeded to tell us that this wasn't the right queue. Oh joy, what else can go wrong !

By the time we found the right place and made it to the check-in counter, I had indeed missed the 10am flight, but was given a seat on the next one at 10.30. So Craig and I said our goodbyes and I took a deep breath and headed for the gate lounge on the first leg of my solo adventure.

The 1 hour 20 minute flight to Sydney was a breeze... not the slightest twinge of anxiety. Maybe I was still numb... or maybe Capt. Tom's therapy really does kick in despite the anticipatory woes ! But then to tackle the big one. I located the shuttle bus that transfers passengers to the international terminal in Sydney and made my way to the gate lounge with not a lot of time to spare until boarding.

Once in my window seat (in business class, thanks to Frequent Flyers !) I buckled up and took another deep breath. Then a friendly looking gent sat down beside me and unwittingly asked "Ready for the long haul ?" I looked him in the eye and replied "Noooooo !" and began to pour out the whole story. We never did get around to introductions, but I will be eternally grateful to him for his friendliness (and the loan of his spare noise reducing headset !) which contributed to making that 13.5 hour flight more than bearable. And again, not a hint of anxiety, despite the fact that I wasn't able to sleep. (Thank goodness for the non-stop in flight movies !)

On arriving in LA, I should have had about four hours until boarding for Las Vegas, but walking from terminal 4 to terminal 1, queueing at ticketing, going through security, trying to obtain US currency from a reluctant ATM and sending SMS messages gobbled up all that time and before I knew it I was boarding. In no time at all we were landing, and after collecting my luggage and finding a not-so-reluctant ATM, I afforded myself the luxury of a cappuccino from Starbuck's before finding a taxi to take me to the Venetian. Whew... I made it !

Coming home turned out to be equally eventful, but that story can wait. In the meantime, here commences the photographic account of the holiday....