The Longest Days of My Young Life

November 17-18

Sadly, we had to leave Port Douglas and begin our journey home. The plan was to fly from Cairns to Sydney, where Doug and I would go our separate ways: he would stay with Tisha for 2 more days in Sydney and I was flying back to Tokyo to pick up my connecting flight back to NYC.

Unfortunately, when we got to the airport in Cairns, we found that our flight had been mysteriously cancelled and that we were put onto a later flight. One that would get me to Sydney exactly two hours before my flight to Tokyo. Normally, this wouldn't upset me, but given my recent issues with baggage, etc, and the fact that I had done NO souvenir shopping, I was pissed.

I set it up with the Qantas people to check my luggage straight through to Tokyo so that at least I wouldn't have to claim and re-check my baggage. I was pretty specific about the fact that Doug's bag would be staying in Sydney. They seemed to understand.

Well, let's just say that they knew that one of our bags was supposed to go to Tokyo, they just were a little mixed up on which one. Luckily, when Doug went to baggage claim, he recognized my bag trundling down the conveyor belt. He was able to get the Qantas people to re-check my bag through to my Tokyo flight, but the staff were unable to find his bag. They assumed it was already on my flight and they couldn't get it off.

In a last minute call, Doug told me to look for it in Tokyo.

When I landed at around 6AM, I went immediately to the bag claim people to explain the situation. My bag came through, but I didn't see Doug's. It was a little early to call him in Sydney, so I decided to fill out a lost bag report just in case. This was easier said then done, and as I was repeatedly asked to produce my passport to various baggage claim people, I was getting worried that I might be flagged as an agitator. I finally called Doug and he reported that Qantas had indeed found his bag after about 2 hours of searching the airport in Sydney.

I had hurriedly purchased an oversized, wooden souvenir as a gift for someone in my office. The customs inspector was very concerned about it and mentioned "termites." I assured him that there were no termites stowing away in any of my stuff. He looked unconvinced, but waved me through anyway.

My flight to NYC wasn't until 7PM and it was only 8AM when I finally cleared customs. I wasn't allowed to check in, so I wasted the day watching CNN in a random lounge, buying up some final souvenirs, and getting my nails done. I finally checked in at 2PM, and once-freed of my large suitcase, I set off to deal with my boxes of stuff that were being held in another terminal. I was only allowed to check in one more piece of baggage without being charged (they told me the charge to check my oversized wooden souvenir, which weighed less than 2 kg, would be $200 USD! Charlatans!!). So began another session of "what can I abandon now?"

I finally got everything into one box (underweight, thank you), stopped by the post office to ship my oversized wooden souvenir (only $30 USD, score!), and triumphantly returned to the check in desk. The agent tried to get me to downgrade my ticket to economy class because business class was oversold. I gave her a look that my friend Michael describes as my "I smell shit" face and said, "No, thanks." As if.

The flight home was very comfortable, although I made the mistake of ordering the Japanese meal. What on earth possessed me? I'll never know. I chatted with my seatmate, a 50-something actuary/estate tax specialist from Boston who was much more interesting than his job sounds. He asked me why I was still single saying, "You know, if there wasn't a geographical issue and an obvious age difference, I'd ask you out."

There I was, bare-faced, bespectacled, flip-flopped, uncoiffed, and unshowered being practically propositioned by a possibly non-creep. Wonders never cease. We exchanged business cards, but that's probably the end of that.

Finally, we landed in NYC and I breezed through immigration. I had only the tiniest twinge of guilt when, in response to the question: "Have you spent any time on a farm during your time outside the US?", I checked the NO! box. I'm sure those cows were clean.

There was a car waiting for me at the airport (thank god) and soon I was back at my apartment, catching up with my roommate and trying to win back the affections of my seriously pissed off cats.