What’s the odds that my inaugural visit to the continent of Oceania occurred during the heaviest rains EVER recorded? And my last minute gamble of ditching my trusted raincoat definitely backfired. So I’m the sucker that had to raid the local gas station to buy a new $100 purple slicker.
Yep, Auckland specifically had widespread flooding that we miraculously avoided due to being thrust into the remote outback for 2 days at a sweet haven called Blue Duck Station. No news, cell reception or Wi-Fi. Completely isolated from the world and I ate it up.
We made a big loop over our first week in the North Island, and little did we know that the airport was shut down for 2 days prior to our scheduled departure to explore the southern island. Fortunately, we escaped with minimal impact to our itinerary, as only our exploration day in the infamous Waitomo Caves was cancelled.
But…..
After a fabulous two weeks enjoying the likes of Mt. Cook, Abel Tasman National Park, Milford Sound, Franz Joseph and Queenstown, we also get word of a massive cyclone (aka hurricane that rotates in the opposite direction) churning in the Southern Hemisphere. WTF?!?
Coined the biggest in this century to threaten the islands, my flights home were severely in jeopardy. And after being granted three weeks off for this once in a lifetime extended vacation, I certainly didn’t need any excuse to be detained.
My fellow travelers and I frantically tried to bump up our exit flights forward without much luck, so we took the chance on being able to escape prior to this catastrophe. I know all too well the storm drill and brace myself for the potential delays. My first short leg is right into the heartbeat of the impending storm from Christchurch to Auckland. No issue.
Then I have the painful 5 hour layover (not so) patiently pacing until the boarding call echoes over the loud speaker. But it gets better…..
Going through security for the first time, I got the text my flight has just been cancelled. Here we go. I try to call the 800 number they provided, and it is disconnected. Then I fumble through the online chat feature while having to navigate the free Wi-Fi zones in the international airport. The agent/bot says he can’t do anything and doesn’t see where it has been cancelled. Plus the online booking says the next flights available to rebook are for two days later. Oh crap.
Ticketing doesn’t open for 50 mins, so a few American passengers in the same predicament wait in confusion as we know the incoming plane had already landed and it was barely drizzling outside.
Low and behold, the Dallas office over 7400 miles away had mistakenly cancelled the route and the agents assured us that we were still a go. So back through security I go with my two go-to carryon book bags with a big smile on my face.
Without incident, we board and push back early to squeeze out with minimal turbulence to blue skies over the vast Pacific Ocean. The 13.5 hour direct flight to Dallas flew by (pun intended) since half the passengers missed the plane and despite the fact I didn’t sleep a wink. But we aren’t done just yet…..
We get stuck on the runway in Texas with a flat tire! But this time, I’m downright exhausted having to prop my eyes open with the last few ounces of energy I can muster. Somehow, we touch down in sunny FL just 7 mins after my original departure on the same day. The 18 hour time difference ahead is still hard to grasp, as I’m hoping the inherent jet lag stays at bay.
Feels so good to be home sweet home!
FearlessAdventures 