Putting aside the fact that no-one is going to believe me, especially my work colleagues, it has put a crimp on my plans. Being in work tomorrow for one and having clean clothes. And the day was going all so well....
After a lovely morning lounging around we finally got ourselves ready, breakfasted and headed around the island towards the airport. After stopping a few times en-route (see how I cleverly slipped a bit of French in there!) to admire the view of the lagoon and the waves breaking out at sea on the coral barrier, we arrived at the airport far too early - even for us. We have a habit of overestimating how long things are going to take; driving to the airport, dropping of the hire car, checking in and so forth that we usually spend a good chunk of our holiday actually in the airport, wandering around and chastising ourselves, once again, for setting off far too early. Today was no exception, although our arrival was hastened by the fact that it had decided to rain hard and that, it being a Sunday an' all, there were no restaurants open for business. With nearly four hours to kill we were certainly in no danger of missing our flight. At least we were in the shelter of the airport whilst a rain storm of biblical proportions played out outside.
But it was all good - we had some snacks, reading matter and a comfortable seat. Which was a good job as we were about to find out. Now don't get me wrong, I quite like airport departure lounges. As well as the anticipation of a journey yet to take, there are shops, cafes and people. People watching is one of the most entertaining things to do in departure lounges. They are a weird bunch. Take the guy, for example, who was fashioning a 'rat's tail' hair cut and was wearing a t-shirt that broadly boasted 'This is my going out shirt'. Or at least that's what I think it said. It was hard to tell with the martial being stretched to breaking point across his beer belly. I wonder if his wife liked it? She was a very slim and attractive southeast Asian woman. Now I'm not going to jump to any conclusions so I'll stop right there. There was also the usual couple who, when faced with the news that their bags were over the weight limit, proceeded to argue their case with the terminal staff. It wasn't going well and I have to say that questioning their parenthood was not perhaps the most tactful approach. After at least thirty minutes they accepted defeat and coughed up, all the while mumbling about having flown all around the world and suggesting that Air New Zealand were once part of the Third Reich. The ironic thing, and it wasn't wasted on the rest of the queue judging by the looks they were getting, was that they were in the Express Check-In lane.
Yes, time was passing nicely and it was nearly our allotted boarding time. But something was up. The plane that we were supposed to be getting on was not on its stand. Ah, but the board still had the flight showing as being on time so all was good. Back to the people....
Now I'm no expert in aviation planning but I do suspect that you actually need an aeroplane to get onto in order to begin boarding. It would be a horrible charade otherwise. Our boarding time had been and gone and we were still sat, on the thankfully comfortable, departure lounge seats. We had now been in the airport for four hours. Those who were observant, or had been there so long that they had internalised the staffing schedule, would have noticed an increase activity at the rear of the room. Something was definitely up. And that, as it turns out, was the problem. The incoming plane was not able to land due to poor visibility. Okay, it was a little damp, but enough to not be able to land a modern jet plane? If planes couldn't land in the UK due to wet weather then we'd have less flights than a small island in the South Pacific and Heathrow be a backwater facility. Which would be nice for the residents. Anyway, the aeroplane had been diverted to neighbouring Rarotonga to determine what to do next. Fit some wiper blades maybe? If we felt bad, just consider the passengers on the incoming flight - as first days of a holiday go, being sat on an aeroplane whist your fate is decided is not the best start. Even if the plane is on the runway in a tropical island.
The news, when it came was not good. They were going to take off and go back to Auckland where the weather was more conducive to landing a sophisticated aircraft thank you very much. They might try again tomorrow. Tomorrow? What's wrong with this evening? The rain had actually stopped and the stars were clearly visible.
We'd now been in the airport for nearly six hours. It had been so long that I was considering getting a part time job - I felt that by now I knew the workings of the airport better then most and besides it would help pass the time and bring a little more money in.
Just as I was formulating my interview responses we were told to collect our bags, return through immigration - I don't know why because we hadn't actually gone anywhere - and get onto a shuttle bus which would take us to a hotel. Which it did. Eventually.
So here we are. Roughing it in a five star hotel, in a suite that is bigger than our house in Auckland, a private balcony, cool air conditioning and a minibar stocked with tiny drinks. Or at least it was stocked. As places to wait it's not bad. I might have a dip in the pool later, or maybe go to the spa. Choices, choices.
But despite all that, it's not where I was supposed to be and that's annoying. If I'd have wanted an extra day's holiday it wouldn't have been this. Does that make me ungrateful? Probably. But there is nothing I can do about it. I can no more influence the flight of an aircraft than I can direct a light opera. So I'm just going to have to sit back, relax and make the most of an extra day in Tahiti. Life's a bitch.
We've just heard that we might be departing at 7pm this evening, only 1 day, 1 hour and 25 minutes later than scheduled. Now that's a record that Nerwork Rail would be proud of!
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