Best of times (BOT): I woke up naturally at 2am this morning (actually, it was yesterday morning by the time I post this) after just four hours of sleep and felt so good that I opted to just stay up.
Worst of times (WOT): At 2:45pm as I was standing in line to board our Air Tahiti Nui flight, I nearly fell over from exhaustion.
BOT: We were upgraded on our United flight to Los Angeles. I could have flown a week in that comfort.
WOT: We could only check our luggage through to LAX, since United (not the airline we originally booked on through Princess EZ Air...grrrrrrr) does not have a code share agreement with Air Tahiti Nui.
BOT: All three pieces of luggage successfully arrived at the baggage claim at LAX.
WOT: We decided to walk down four terminals to the Tom Bradley International terminal for a bit of exercise, forgetting that the outside of every airport is now the smoking section. Between cigarette smoke and diesel fuel from buses, and rolling three big suitcases, I can't say it was a delightful Sunday stroll.
BOT: The TSA employee we encountered along the way made a point to get us a luggage cart and thanked G for his service (he was wearing his US Army Retired cap). Thoughtful.
WOT: The check in area of the Tom Bradley International terminal is a sty. The only plug in for recharging required me to stand next to the pay phones.
BOT: The Air Tahiti Nui counter opened promptly at noon. We lined up at 11:30am and so we didn't have that long to wait.
WOT: It was staffed by possibly the least friendly agents imaginable. Also, just two non-scuba items in our scuba suitcase disqualified it to the tune of $75 checked bag fee. Bah humbug.
BOT/WOT: The sty-like check in area shined in comparison to the TSA line up and processing area. That was the piggiest of pig stys.
WOT: Our Global Entry got us NOTHING here. Long lines, half disrobing, full body scans. The agents here, though, were actually decent, especially considering their horrendous working environment.
BOT: Emerging from that, entering the beautiful mall-like international concourse, with its abundant duty free stores and restaurants, was like going from black and white to color in the Wizard of Oz. Really. It was that dramatic.
BOT (on a roll here): Getting to our gate while there was still ample seating and a plug in for nearly every seat. ABC- Always Be Charging, and we were.
Yet another BOT: G quoting from Seinfeld in that sing-songy voice..."I want to stop at the duty free shop. I want to stop at the duty free shop!" I had to giggle.
WOT: Getting on the plane to find that the seats we had chosen nearly six months ago had been changed and we were now in the middle section of the plane, and there was no stretching out my finicky left knee. Damn.
BOT: Right after take off, the flight crew changed from business-type uniforms to Tahitian uniforms, with the ladies in traditional Tahitian dresses and tiare flowers tucked behind their ears (tiny blooms for the guys). Nice! And let me mention (not likely for the last time) how hunky these Tahitian guys are. I had forgotten that from when we were down here years ago.
WOT (the very worst of the entire day and the whole next week, and I decided right then and there that, if this trend continued, I would be on the 11pm flight back to LAX): My seat back was broken. An 8 1/2 hour flight with a broken seat back. Sure, it was fine when I wanted to recline, but for take off I had to sit straight up and engage every core muscle I don't have to keep that back upright. And for meals...well, I had to lift each food item up and hold it while I ate. Otherwise I was too far reclined to reach my dinner.
BOT: Francois Montand brut. It flowed like...well, champagne. I can't say it's as good as Barefoot Bubbly on the Promenade Deck but I could feel my legs relax as I drank it. Shoot, who cares about a broken seat back anyway?
BOT: Dinner was actually pretty good...until I looked at the food description on the foil cover. I was starting on my fish entree, expecting that it was some local recipe from the islands. Then I read the label: sweet and sour pollack. G's beef? Beef stew. But I swapped him butter for Brie, and was happy with a hard roll, Brie and Francois.
BOT: Remarking to G, while we were examining the flight map on the video displays in front of us, that we were encountering all sorts of air traffic over the water an hour outside Los Angeles. To which he replied that those weren't planes, they were Japanese characters on the map. We laughed and laughed (more Francois Montand anyone?).
(In my defense, the display distance was in that no-man's land somewhere between reading glasses and not.)
WOT: Eating required an attack strategy. G said it reminded him of those little puzzles we had growing up, 15 tiles in 16 squares, moving a tile to get a space into which to move a tile to get another space. Yes, it was a lot like that. These seats were the tightest I'd ever seen on an international flight. So much so that it led to...
BOT: ...after the dinner and champagne, G kept tickling my thigh. I thought he was being romantic; you know, "The work is done, we've finally made it here, let's look forward to a wonderful cruise" all spoken without a word. I was enjoying it, until I finally mentioned something to him about it, which led to...
WOT: ...he wasn't tickling my thigh at all. He was feeling the pocket in his cargo shorts to make certain his iPhone was still in there. We were seated as tight as conjoined twins, and that was the end of that mental romantic interlude.
BOT: More time with my friend Frank, interspersed with ample fuzzy water (though they call it something frou-frou like Perrier, but it's really just plain old fuzzy water) while G slept beside me ('cause you know I don't do that on planes).
BOT: A brand new (to me) Maeve Binchy book- Chestnut Street- to lose myself in. I can't believe it will be her last (weep). I would fly sitting on the toilet to have that to enjoy.
WOT: Damn, this Océan Pacifique is big, and this flight is long. 5 hours 6 minutes left to go.
WOT: What the heck is this? Major turbulence, the plane dropped and, at the same time, on the video map display I could see the plane turn so that it was heading southeast instead of southwest. Suddenly our expected arrival time went from 9:02p to 10:06p. What the heck? The turbulence continued, and even G was awake. As we watched the map display, our plane went first one direction, then another, trying to find stable air. And our arrival time would move up to 9:16pm, then 10:03pm, and finally, after an hour or so, settled back on 9:03pm. Which prompted me to ask G, "Do you think the pilot's just messing with us?"
BOT: The turbulence finally died down, and we could get up and use the restroom. G then discovered, at the very back of the plane, the open bar surrounded by a good percentage of the other male passengers. I took a fuzzy water...uh, Perrier, back to my seat where I had a good hour of stretching out over two seats while G imbibed at the back. Happiness reigned for both.
WOT: The final hour was the worst for me. I hadn't slept a wink, my contacts were crying and I just WANTED TO BE OFF THAT PLANE.
BOT: We landed just a few minutes late, after dark in pouring rain. IN TAHITI!!
WOT: Just as predicted, getting to a standing position and getting ourselves and our carry ons down those wet, exterior stairs to the tarmac. Don't slip, don't slip, don't slip!! Water was dripping down our faces by the time we got to the terminal...
BOT: ...where those musicians and dancers WERE still playing. Very nice.
After that, it really was all good. Of course, there were Princess reps everywhere at the airport and we retrieved our three bags (yay!), and were directed to a line of buses outside the terminal. We got in a bus at 10pm, and by 10:15p were at the tiny Pacific Princess. Sure, there was more pouring rain as we completed check in and walked down the pier to board the ship, but as we walked up the gangway, we were greeted by all the cabin stewards, lined up and smiling. Our steward, Bianca, led us directly to our cabin and pointed out a few features.
I didn't unpack a thing...just took out contacts, washed my face and brushed my teeth, and, as predicted, did a face plant on the bed. I had been awake and wearing hard contacts for more than 24 hours.
Also as predicted...we were up early the next morning (now), though not until 5am (11am EST). Next, we need to unpack (this is a very un-Princess-like cabin so we have to figure out where things will go), shower and explore this ship and Papeete.
We are here.
Life is good. :-)