/karen/

20/09/2005: In which we spend an awfully long time on a plane

Wednesday, 14 December, 2005

After spending the evening packing, Ben and I got up nice and early. Ben went to pick up Benny May from Chappo House as he was going to act as a chauffeur and house-sitter for us. He helped us bring all the luggage downstairs and then, to make the chauffeur thing seem more real, we both sat in the back. He dropped us off at the International Terminal, said farewell and made off with our car and our house keys.

We checked in and then went to change money. The lady didn't quite understand what I wanted (USD$ and CAN$) but soon figured it out. It was still quite a while until boarding time so Ben went to buy some more tapes for the video camera and I got some butter menthol. We didn't particularly want to look around at all the shops so we went straight to our gate, only to find that it was blocked off and the plane was late. Ben and I went and sat down. He started to read and I fell asleep.

Some time later Ben woke me up. The plane had finally arrived and they were letting us in to the gate, checking everyone's ID on the way in. We waited some more and then were finally allowed to board.

The last time I was on an international flight was in April 2002 when we went to Hong Kong (my dad had graciously offered to buy us tickets on his frequent flyer points. He took us into China and we stayed at his house). This time the circumstances were much the same. After all, we'd never dream of going on an international holiday by ourselves. But my cousin was getting married in Los Angeles and my father had offered to fly us over because he was keen for us to be there, and my mother, upon learning that we would be in North America around the same time as her and Peter, offered to fly us further to Toronto so we could meet up with Uncle Jack and Aunty Lois (who are not my aunt and uncle) and other friends. So, thanks to the generosity of my family, here we were.

In Qantas' economy section I was surprised to find that every seat had its own screen, fixed into the back of the seat in front. There were six channels of movies (only four were available to economy class) which operated on a continuous 2.5 hour loop. You could read news headlines, play games and even check the map to see where you were (I guess they put that in to satiate all questions of “Are we there yet?”). In the arm rest there was a remote control that could be pulled out and used as a game console (during the flight Ben managed to complete all levels of one of the games).

I had taken my Greek books onboard but of course I didn't end up doing any and my knitting needles were in the checked in luggage. Instead I spent most of my time sleeping and watching movies—bits of The Longest Yard, Madagascar and Fever Pitch (I watched the end of all of them and they didn't inspire me to see the rest of them) and all of Mr and Mrs Smith and The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

The cabin crew served us lunch and then, later on, served us breakfast.

We touched down in LA at 7 am, local time. US customs and immigration were scary; there were all these signs warning us that we had to take care we filled in the forms properly or else we'd be sent to the back of the queue. You do not want to hear that after a 14-hour flight. Officials walked up and down the queues, checking everyone's passports and papers. When we finally reached the desk, they fingerprinted both me and Ben and took photos of us. I understood that all these precautions were necessary in the wake of terrorist attacks but I couldn't help feeling a bit uncomfortable about the whole thing.

We picked up our luggage but, because of the way that our tickets had been booked (my father had gotten me to book the Sydney-LA leg and then my mother had arranged for a travel agent to do the LA-Toronto leg, frustrated about the fact that it would have been cheaper and easier if the travel agent had done the lot but that's what happens when your parents are divorced and don't talk to each other), our luggage was not receipted to go on to Toronto. So we had to put our luggage on a trolley and push it all the way over to Terminal 3 (remember LAX is a BIG airport) where we checked in with Air Canada. I asked about knitting needles and the guy blinked at me and said they weren't a problem so I took them on board. He got us to check in our luggage at the X-ray machines and then we had to go through to get our cabin luggage checked. As we were queueing up for this, I noticed a wooden collage on the wall, commemorating September 11:

I had forgotten that there were little scissors, sewing needles and safety pins in my cabin luggage and got nervous. I was prepared to hand them over if necessary but they didn't ask me about them and there was no need.

We went over to our gate and dumped our stuff. I went to find a post office to post my hair but there wasn't one. We explored the shops. I found See's Toffee-ettes which one of my friends said were the yummiest chocolates ever and begged me to bring to bring some home for her. I figured I'd do it on the return trip.

Ben loaded himself up with American chocolate bars (what is the Americna fascination with peanut butter?). We went and sat in the lounge and waited. I wondered why the time of our flight was different. I went to ask and was told that it had been changed. I fretted about calling Josephine who was picking us up from the airport in Toronto but I didn't know what the time difference was between Toronto and LA. Ben guessed that they were about 3 hours behind but in fact they were 4 hours ahead.

I started reading Robin Hobb's Ship of Magic. Ben went to sleep listening to music. I woke him up when we had to change gates. I went to call Josephine but punched in the numbers wrong and the stupid American payphone swallowed my change without connecting me so I had to do it on credit card.

We boarded. Our plane was not as fancy as Qantas but I guess this was considered a domestic flight. We got a whole row to ourselves because there weren't that many passengers so we stretched out. They were screening “The Longest Yard” which Ben watched. They served us dinner. I slept and read and didn't knit.

We landed in Toronto at 8:51 pm, local time. Customs and immigration was easy and Phil and Josephine were there to meet us. Josephine is the daughter of people my parents flatted with when they were at Uni. Chronologically, she is my oldest friend, but the friend that I have probably spent the least amount of time with. When she and Phil got married just over a year ago, we were invited to the wedding but of course we couldn't make it. This was the first time I had met Phil and he insisted on carrying our bags to teir car.

We drove out of Toronto to Hamilton which is just like Wollongong—complete with escarpment, a university and a steelworks, but unfortunately no coastal beaches. Phil and Jose had just bought a house out there; they moved in three weeks ago. It was weird driving on the wrong side of the road on 16-lane freeways, passing Petro Canadas and Tim Horton's along the way, and the area was pretty much urbanised with factories and shopping malls and hardly any bush.

When we turned into Phil and Jose's street, it was a bit different—it was like a suburb with the occasional corn field thrown in for good measure. Ben was still a bit hungry. Phil suggested raspberry toast because they grew raspberries in the backyard and Ben decided to try it out:

We talked for a while and then went to bed.

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