A Week of Limbo in Manhattan Beach

John and I have struggled somewhat after our long international journey from our freezing winter in the Southern Hemisphere to their moderate summer in the Northern Hemisphere, most notably in sunny California. This particular destination at the beach at my sister Penny’s place has always been our first rest stop over the years of flying back and forth twice a year. But this is our first return trip in almost four years and we are definitely not as resilient following these long-haul flights as we used to be. So, coming here to this sanctuary that she so willingly shares with us, really helps us to recover fully, which has certainly happened, though much more slowly than anticipated. My body and flying just don’t agree. It’s always hard for me to regain my normalcy, but not ever as bad as this. Between John’s sinus issue and my dopiness with puffy eyelids and a myriad of other slightly off concerns, we make a good pair of oldies. But we’re finally coming around.
One week ago, after a gin and tonic in Christchurch to relax me for the short flight to Auckland, then more red wine on our overseas flight that lasted about a half a day, my eyelids looked like I’d been in the ring for a good pummeling. Certainly not my best look. After leaving my favorite neck pillow on the first plane, and finding out that it wouldn’t be kept more than a month (our trip is for five weeks), we proceeded to walk from the domestic terminal in Auckland to the international terminal, supposedly about a brisk 10 minutes away. It was nighttime and dark and with a sharp cold wind but the terminal was way beyond where the old terminal had been and that doubled the walk easily. Finally, when we arrived at the recently finished GREAT HALL OF NEW ZEALAND, the international terminal, we were dumbfounded. It was so vast we felt like ants crawling across the floor, which didn’t seem to move us very far or very fast in any direction. I’d almost say it felt overwhelming to try to cross the space before us that seemed to go on into infinity. But eventually we came upon the Air New Zealand area and had a quick chat with some guy in one of their uniforms and we found the way to the upper level of the behemoth style building.
There was a small shop amongst many stores that had some kids’ tees and assorted relics that were pricey and cute for my grandsons and I dawdled in there catching my breath from the leviathan structure’s 10-minute walk that by that point was triple that carrying my oversized purse on my shoulder stuffed to the brim with another handbag inside it, and meanwhile John had reluctantly carried my carry-on bag, while he waited impatiently for me to complete my purchase. Since the shop was closing, I had no choice but to make up my addled mind about all the wrong sized tee shirts that were hanging from my one free hand. Of course, I had to choose the best ones to buy and we rushed out of there, past many other stores on the way.
Then we went through Customs again which took John a few minutes longer than me, and we saw the sign that led to our Gate 18. It was a 23-minute walk just to get there, if we were Olympic athletes. I think it took us closer to a half an hour since I couldn’t run the whole way. But luckily there were some moving sidewalks that actually moved in some of the corridors that were a city block long although many of them weren’t turned on, just like the lineup of utility vehicles that normally would have tired and grumpy old folks in them getting a lift to the planes leaving from outer Mongolia. But no matter how many corridors there were that were daunting at best, there were no people of any variety around. That meant that even if we collapsed in two heaps, nobody would have noticed or helped us or put us on the golf type carts and carried us over the line.
Eventually, we made it to a live person, with a sarcastic attitude. He said that somehow that exercise we’d gotten on the trek will extend our lives by 5 minutes. I wanted to punch the guy but instead saw that there were people, probably passengers, waiting a long way away so we started walking again. We were almost there.
I stopped at the bathroom. It was attractive and brand new and before I used the facility the toilet flushed but I couldn’t make it flush afterwards. Then I exited from that stall and went to wash my hands. The basins were also quite attractive and had some very high-tech hardware. I touched the rectangular end of the tap and a blast of air shot out and hit my nose. I jumped back, almost mortified, but I never could turn the water on. The girl at the next sink let me use her sink. I wet my hands briefly and it turned off almost instantly. Murphy’s Law is working well in that bathroom.
Whoever designed that building should get a prize for convincing somebody high up to build it in the first place. Anyway, we got here. LAX was a breeze in comparison. Many of the worst procedures were cancelled over the years. We expected to jump through many more hoops so were pleasantly surprised that they were discontinued and we exited to the street level rather quickly. But getting from that place to the cabs and Ubers was another story and we had to wait to go onto a shuttle with all of our bags of course, to where the taxis were. Then when we finally were inside a cab, the driver didn’t know where we were going, so used his GPS. I was so rattled when he went on the freeway at rush hour that I thought he was going to really overcharge us. But in the end, it was reasonable enough although he drove an extra few miles in a loop instead of staying on the one street that leads straight to my sister’s neighborhood.
That first night is a blur. Others have been too but we’ve slowly managed to feel better and to do more things. Dragonflies and butterflies abound here in this paradise. As does Pansy, the old pussycat. That blog will be next. Wait for it.