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serindeThe fun started when we checked in with AA, and learned two things:
1) The seat assignments for our outbound flight had changed entirely (because the plane had changed), and all they had left was two center seats in different rows;
2) They had no record of our return reservations. That is, we'd been charged and paid for them, but the airlines didn't record them. (Whether that is Travelocity's fault or what is unknown.)
The nice man fixed #2 but could do nothing about #1, except advise we talk to the gate agent in case some seats were released. Eventually we did, and got seats next to each other...which turned out to be bulkhead seats. There is no win. Meantime, we haunted the concourse looking for a decent meal, which was not to be found. It was exceedingly small and dinky. So was the AA concourse in LAX, only on top of that the last meal place was shutting down when we got there; and the bar that was still opened watered their poor yet expensive drinks exceedingly.
The flight itself from EWR -> LAX was fairly unremarkable, except to note that yes, the only food was for-pay, and the in-flight entertainment system was lacking. I watched "Becoming Jane" anyways, in spite of having to ruck my neck back to see the big screen two feet from me that was serving the whole center section. It seems clear they were trying to do for Jane Austen what Shakespeare in Love did for the Bard, only ... didn't.
Qantas treated us pretty well on the 14.5 hr. slog. Steve actually slept. I sort of...dozed in and out; it's very hard for me to sleep on airplanes, particularly when pickle-in-the-middle, because if I can't curl up then I need to have my feet on something cos I'm short. Time passed. I really appreciated Qantas' film selection. Two thumbs up.
We SHOULD have landed in Sydney on time, but did not. Or more precisely, we landed on time, and then dicked around on the runway for 45 minutes. This plus the absolute zoo at quarantine and customs--it was worse than Newark, people, you hear what I say--caused us, and about 15% of the rest of the plane, to miss our connecting flight. The more so since if you are transferring to Qantas domestic, you get to pile onto a bus to go to another terminal far, far away.
I'm not saying Quarantine was all bad. As we were waiting to claim our checked bags, the beagle patrol (!!) was going around checking people out--they take their food protections seriously here--and was delighted to find our packed lunch. I surrendered the very manky chicken sandwich that hadn't gotten eaten, and the apple (both of which I had declared on my form, so it was okay), but the Canine Crusader was really wanting the peanut butter, too. As a consolation prize, he quickly snatched the empty saran-wrap from the chicken sandwich that had been eaten. This provided much needed laughs all around.
Because the next flight they could get us on to Melbourne, they told us, was four hours later. This in spite of the fact that flights go every half hour. And we couldn't go on standby in case of space on an earlier one, because we had checked luggage. So, four hours kicking around the smallest terminal at Sydney airport. Gah.
Finally, flight, we go, hurrah. So, this is a dinky barely-over-an-hour flight, yeah? And Qantas still gave us little packs of rosemary crackers with delicious spreadable herbed cheese, as opposed to cheap-ass domestic carriers who won't even give you a packet of peanuts for going cross-country.
We landed in Melbourne without incident. I left Steve to collect the luggage, and walked over to the international arrivals hall to pick up our rental cellphone from Vodafone. ...Which kiosk is closed, at 3:45 on a Saturday afternoon in an airport. WHAT
I inquired of the Travelex next door. "Oh, dearie, they close down when there aren't any international flights coming in." Eventually, by inquiring other places, I learn that they close down every day from 2-5:30pm. So they can have their little nap, I guess. BECAUSE NO FLIGHT IS EVER DELAYED OR ANYTHING. I was not intending to shit around the airport for another hour and a half, so determined we would leave, get to the hotel, clean up, and I'd make them transfer our reservation to a place in the city proper.
So we get on the Skybus. Now, I swear to God that I checked their web site and a route map showed them going right by the hotel we were staying at. It instead developed that it only goes direct toSpencer St. Southern Cross Station, and they do have hotel shuttles from there, but not to where we were going. Rather than negotiating the trams with luggage, we just took a cab.
Got to The Nunnery, a quirky place popular with backpackers that also has private rooms. Which had no record of our reservation whatsoever. Apparently the young man I spoke to and gave my credit card information to was either a complete ditz and did nothing with it, or was just a resident passing by when the phone was ringing. Of course, they were fully booked up.
We threw ourselves on the tender mercies of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
blarglefiend and crypticgirl, who took us in, gave us tea, let us rest and scritch Ashton the Very Large Hound, and lent me a cup of Internet with which to find alternative lodgings. Which I actually managed to do in fairly short order, and we were eventually ensconced in a place that has small apartments, I think mostly for business travellers though there seem to be other tourists here, right in the CBD; and, here's the smug bit, I got it at half-rate because it was last minute, so it's only about $25 a night more than the quirky backpacker's hostel. MUA HA HA HA and did I mention the pool and sauna?
After taking most glorious shower ever (except possibly post-Burning Man), we metblarglefiend and crypticgirl for a late dinner at a Nepalese place around the corner, which was quite nice until I started falling asleep face-first in my curry. We came back and slept the sleep of the utterly dead.
Is now Sunday morning, and I am contemplating coffee, breakfast, and the chances of shouting at cellphone vendors.
1) The seat assignments for our outbound flight had changed entirely (because the plane had changed), and all they had left was two center seats in different rows;
2) They had no record of our return reservations. That is, we'd been charged and paid for them, but the airlines didn't record them. (Whether that is Travelocity's fault or what is unknown.)
The nice man fixed #2 but could do nothing about #1, except advise we talk to the gate agent in case some seats were released. Eventually we did, and got seats next to each other...which turned out to be bulkhead seats. There is no win. Meantime, we haunted the concourse looking for a decent meal, which was not to be found. It was exceedingly small and dinky. So was the AA concourse in LAX, only on top of that the last meal place was shutting down when we got there; and the bar that was still opened watered their poor yet expensive drinks exceedingly.
The flight itself from EWR -> LAX was fairly unremarkable, except to note that yes, the only food was for-pay, and the in-flight entertainment system was lacking. I watched "Becoming Jane" anyways, in spite of having to ruck my neck back to see the big screen two feet from me that was serving the whole center section. It seems clear they were trying to do for Jane Austen what Shakespeare in Love did for the Bard, only ... didn't.
Qantas treated us pretty well on the 14.5 hr. slog. Steve actually slept. I sort of...dozed in and out; it's very hard for me to sleep on airplanes, particularly when pickle-in-the-middle, because if I can't curl up then I need to have my feet on something cos I'm short. Time passed. I really appreciated Qantas' film selection. Two thumbs up.
We SHOULD have landed in Sydney on time, but did not. Or more precisely, we landed on time, and then dicked around on the runway for 45 minutes. This plus the absolute zoo at quarantine and customs--it was worse than Newark, people, you hear what I say--caused us, and about 15% of the rest of the plane, to miss our connecting flight. The more so since if you are transferring to Qantas domestic, you get to pile onto a bus to go to another terminal far, far away.
I'm not saying Quarantine was all bad. As we were waiting to claim our checked bags, the beagle patrol (!!) was going around checking people out--they take their food protections seriously here--and was delighted to find our packed lunch. I surrendered the very manky chicken sandwich that hadn't gotten eaten, and the apple (both of which I had declared on my form, so it was okay), but the Canine Crusader was really wanting the peanut butter, too. As a consolation prize, he quickly snatched the empty saran-wrap from the chicken sandwich that had been eaten. This provided much needed laughs all around.
Because the next flight they could get us on to Melbourne, they told us, was four hours later. This in spite of the fact that flights go every half hour. And we couldn't go on standby in case of space on an earlier one, because we had checked luggage. So, four hours kicking around the smallest terminal at Sydney airport. Gah.
Finally, flight, we go, hurrah. So, this is a dinky barely-over-an-hour flight, yeah? And Qantas still gave us little packs of rosemary crackers with delicious spreadable herbed cheese, as opposed to cheap-ass domestic carriers who won't even give you a packet of peanuts for going cross-country.
We landed in Melbourne without incident. I left Steve to collect the luggage, and walked over to the international arrivals hall to pick up our rental cellphone from Vodafone. ...Which kiosk is closed, at 3:45 on a Saturday afternoon in an airport. WHAT
I inquired of the Travelex next door. "Oh, dearie, they close down when there aren't any international flights coming in." Eventually, by inquiring other places, I learn that they close down every day from 2-5:30pm. So they can have their little nap, I guess. BECAUSE NO FLIGHT IS EVER DELAYED OR ANYTHING. I was not intending to shit around the airport for another hour and a half, so determined we would leave, get to the hotel, clean up, and I'd make them transfer our reservation to a place in the city proper.
So we get on the Skybus. Now, I swear to God that I checked their web site and a route map showed them going right by the hotel we were staying at. It instead developed that it only goes direct to
Got to The Nunnery, a quirky place popular with backpackers that also has private rooms. Which had no record of our reservation whatsoever. Apparently the young man I spoke to and gave my credit card information to was either a complete ditz and did nothing with it, or was just a resident passing by when the phone was ringing. Of course, they were fully booked up.
We threw ourselves on the tender mercies of
blarglefiend and crypticgirl, who took us in, gave us tea, let us rest and scritch Ashton the Very Large Hound, and lent me a cup of Internet with which to find alternative lodgings. Which I actually managed to do in fairly short order, and we were eventually ensconced in a place that has small apartments, I think mostly for business travellers though there seem to be other tourists here, right in the CBD; and, here's the smug bit, I got it at half-rate because it was last minute, so it's only about $25 a night more than the quirky backpacker's hostel. MUA HA HA HA and did I mention the pool and sauna?After taking most glorious shower ever (except possibly post-Burning Man), we met
blarglefiend and crypticgirl for a late dinner at a Nepalese place around the corner, which was quite nice until I started falling asleep face-first in my curry. We came back and slept the sleep of the utterly dead.Is now Sunday morning, and I am contemplating coffee, breakfast, and the chances of shouting at cellphone vendors.
Ah, the beagles
Date: 2008-03-30 01:35 am (UTC)We also got buste in NZ because Kathryn's hiking boots showed up in the xray and she had to show that no, they were not covered in mud. Oh well.
Sounds like it was a Fun Trip, but look, it can only get better right?
mcrosby.