Planes, Trains & A Lack Of Sleep
The countdown was over and the big day had finally arrived. Our big boy was leaving Australia!
We’d had a crazy week leading up to our holiday/farewell tour and barely had time to scratch ourselves, let alone dwell too much on our feelings about what it will be like to have to say goodbye to Sam in a few short weeks. We bundled everything into our bags and packed it all into the car. It’s always such a mad rush to the finish line for us and we were still trying to dry washing half an hour before we left. Sam was struggling to fit a year’s worth of stuff into one bag and we agreed we’ll probably have to ship another load to him a few months down the track.
Adam kindly offered to drive us out to the airport and we had plenty of time to spare after he dropped us off. We were all starving after an early start and a pretty scant breakfast so we indulged in a big lunch and before we knew it we were taking the obligatory photo of ourselves outside the “Departures” sign, excitedly rounding the bend into our big old jet airliner and our seats for the next 14 hours or so.
Boarding the plane, we were immediately aware there was a chill factor inside that was not unlike that which Scott would have encountered on his pioneering trip to the Antarctic. I was sure we must have been transporting some penguins to America and were trying to keep them in a climate they were accustomed to. It was freezing! Luckily we were given a little blanket (little being the operative word), which we clutched to our shivering bodies for most of the journey. Every now and then the temperature would go down a notch, plummeting us even closer to hypothermia. We were in Premium Economy and we heard a rumour that those in “normal” Economy weren’t given a blanket. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them were rushed straight from the plane to the hospital following the flight, suffering from pneumonia!
Still full from our feast at the airport, we were surprised to find the main meal was being served pretty soon after we boarded. It was quite strange to be having dinner at 3:30 in the afternoon but how can you knock back plane food? It was after all, an attempt to try to manipulate our body clocks and get us to gradually swap our night for day. It’s a big ask really, in such a relatively short time. Later in the afternoon they got everyone to shut their windows, they turned out all the lights and pretended it was the middle of the night and we were woken at 3am (our time) for a hearty breakfast! Jet lag here we come!
We all got a few hours’ sleep, except for Molly and Maisy, who were sitting together in their own little row and had an all-night movie marathon. Something tells me this might not have been a great idea. Perhaps we’ll be paying in the days to come? Ross amused the boys by nodding off and head-butting his tv screen.
Not long into the flight we started to experience some turbulence like none of us had ever experienced! The plane was literally shaking up and down so violently we were being lifted on and off our seats like we were cantering on a horse! The whole roof of the plane was rippling and it was looking flimsy like tinfoil. Then we did a sudden dip where we lost our tummies and we were all freaking out just a little bit. I’d spoken to the guy sitting next to me earlier about his frequent plane travel to and from the USA so asked him, being such a seasoned traveller, if this was just “normal turbulence?” When he shook his head and stared at me with raised eyebrows I knew it must have been bad. We were all praying we’d be safe. and were also waiting for the Captain to tell us, in his reassuring voice: “this is your Captain speaking. We are just experiencing some very normal, very safe, completely fine turbulence which is absolutely nothing at all to worry about” but he stayed conspicuously silent. Hopefully he was busy trying to iron out the bumps! It did pass pretty soon and it was smooth sailing (flying) for the rest of the trip, with the Captain eventually making his apology a little further into the flight.
Feeling a little less than refreshed, we disembarked in San Francisco and were warmly welcomed to US soil by our friendly and funny customs officer, Calderon. We still aren’t sure if this was his surname or first name. We all dutifully smiled for our pictures (at least you’re allowed to smile here) and gave our fingerprints, while Calderon joked that most parents would pay to find out whether their children had a criminal record and here we were being offered a free service to tell us what our kids had been up to! Maisy was processed first so Calderon told her she had to go off and order coffees and sandwiches for us all. She wasn’t too sure whether he was serious. We had almost 5 hours to kill in San Francisco until our plane boarded for Orlando so we asked Calderon whether he thought we’d have enough time to leave the airport and head down to Fisherman’s Wharf for old time’s sake. He assured us that the train from the airport could take us right downtown but warned us sternly to “be SURE to get off at Embarcadero!” He said if we continued on one more stop to West Oakland they’d need to send tanks in to get us out!
We made our way through the very modern SFO airport to the train and it was only once we were on, that we realised it was T H I R T E E N stops to Embarcadero! It felt like forever, stuffed in the crowded, stuffy, standing-room-only train carriage until we reached our destination. Having gone from a winter’s day in Sydney to an airconditioned airport, to a sub-zero plane, to another airconditioned airport, to an airconditioned train, we now stepped out into a perfect, blue-skied San Franciscan day and it was suddenly SUMMER!! It was 33 degrees! It was glorious! The sun was shimmering on the water and there were shirtless joggers and summer-loving tourists and locals lining the streets. Bustling Bohemian markets were set-up along the water, including lots of organic produce, hand-made wares and a stall containing some very badly hand-painted pictures of cats. The seagulls here are massive and look like they’re on steroids. Maisy started singing “California Girls” and we were feeling stoked to be out in the warm, fresh Californian air.
We were still lugging all our carry on luggage around with us – for Sam that was a heavy backpack on the front and a matching heavy backpack on the back – and each of us had a heavy bag and a plane pillow and a jumper to drag around with us. Suddenly the idea of walking a few kilometres in the sun, with minimal sleep in our tanks didn’t seem like something any of us wanted to do. We’d spent so much time on the train too, that when we did the maths (or ‘math’ as they say here) we only really had an hour or so before we had to board our plane. Yikes! We saw a nice restaurant on the water – aptly named the Waterfront Restaurant – and dived in for a quick feed. They were very accommodating and got us fed and ready in no time at all. We opted for a taxi back to the airport instead of the train (no brainer!) but there weren’t a lot of taxis that could take all 6 of us. I asked one taxi driver if he could take 6 and he said yes but then when we started piling in, saw that there were only 4 seats! He blamed my accent and said he couldn’t understand me! Here we go again!
Eventually we got 2 separate taxis and our young guy had only been driving cabs for 3 weeks! Miraculously, he got us there in one piece, although we think he may have overcharged us which was unfortunate because Ross’ taxi driver had a broken meter and got Ross to call me and tell him what we paid! So it turns out we both paid too much! Oh well. At least we didn’t have to endure the 13 stops again.
Running into the airport we actually heard them paging us! “This is the final call for the Jones Family flying to Orlando on flight UA….please come immediately to gate 30!” Oh my gosh! Talk about making it by the seat of our proverbials!
This leg of the journey was around 5 hours and luckily we all got a fair bit of sleep – Maisy drifting into the deepest of slumbers before we’d even taxied down the runway and not stirring until we’d landed! Our chipper pilot, Randy Mitchell, welcomed us so enthusiastically it was a shame we didn’t get to meet him.
We arrived in Florida at 2 minutes past midnight and who knows what time by our body clocks. Sam thinks I’m obsessed with body clocks and should just embrace the local time. I’m sure he’s right. The pillow never felt so good when we got to our hotel and we all slept like babies until the alarm jolted us out of our dreams in the morning.
