leaving

On a cool April afternoon, I bid farewell to my family and friends. Each was clutching their copy of my itinerary and a list of contact numbers where I could be reached, (so they could check I was still alive) for each step of my journey. As I walked towards the departure doors, my daughter slipped me a small gift, whispering that it was something for Mike and I. I thanked her and told her that I wouldn't open it till I met with Mike, and put it into my carry on bag. How I wished I had looked at it then!!! (The story of that gift, and the embarrassment it caused, will be told a little later.......)
The flight to LA was long, 12 hours, with the seats shrinking every hour! Finally, the plane landed, I would be able to stretch my legs, and hopefully, get outside for a cigarette before making the connecting flight to Dallas. Gathering my bags, I proceeded to the customs check. The thought of that long awaited cigarette faded when I saw the length of the queue! Surprisingly patient, I waited to get my passport stamped and then, with some relief, in more ways than one, I realised I would have time to both go outside and make trip to the bathroom.

The bathroom visit must have caused puzzlement for anyone within hearing range. I was laughing out loud! Auto-flush was new to me and had caused me look around to see if someone had slipped in with me! Now I really needed a cigarette! Passing a coffee stand, I stopped long enough to purchase a cup before locating the doors that led outside. Here, I stood and enjoyed many things, the cigarette, the coffee, watching the people arriving and departing, listening to the multitude of accents. The one sight that I didn't enjoy seeing was the police with guns on hips. (NZ police do not wear guns at all). Darn, no time for another cigarette, the last call was being made for the next flight.
I watched my bags go through the scanner, but, as I went to pick them up, I was stopped by an official, asking the usual questions..... "Did you pack this bag yourself, has it been in your control at all times?" I gave the usual answers, "Yes and Yes". I was then asked to open the bag. This was not the usual procedure as I knew it! Thinking I had nothing to be concerned about, I began to open the bag then heard the woman say, very loudly, (or it seemed that way to me) that I could not take handcuffs onto the plane.

I stopped and stared at her, what was she talking about??? I had no handcuffs! My bag was now open, and on top was the small box, prettily wrapped in red, the gift from my daughter, Michelle. This was opened by the official who, to my horror, removed handcuffs. Swinging them on one finger, she poked through the rest of the contents, all items my daughter thought Mike and I would find useful!
I was acutely aware of the other passengers slowing their walk as they went past, and I was desperately hoping for the floor to open up and swallow me. I attempted to explain that my daughter had given me the package as I left Auckland and I hadn't opened it. The woman looked me up and down, then mockingly said "suuuuure".
She then directed me to another counter where airline staff would repackage the gift and send it with the baggage. Here, I went through a similar scene as they ferreted through the contents. Again, I found myself explaining how I happened to be carrying handcuffs. This was met with the same look of disbelief the previous woman had shown. Leaving the parcel in their hands, I boarded the plane, hoping that whoever I was sitting next to wasn't one of the passengers who had observed the spectacle.

The flight to Denver was short, I think the stopover was longer! The scenery was wonderful and I had John Denver's songs running through my mind when I saw the mountains. The landing was not so wonderful, it was the roughest I had to endure through all the flights I took. This was confirmed by the conversation of fellow travelers, some of whom were feeling the need for a slightly stronger beverage than coffee.
Back on board again and the excitement was mounting! Very soon, I would be meeting with the first of my chat friends. Waiting for me when I stumbled off the plane, after 19 hours traveling, was Nyleve. What a welcoming sight! Ny and I had met in TA and though it had taken time to get to know each other, we had formed a good friendship.
Finally, we meet face to face, after so long and becoming such good friends we could really hug each other! Ny's young son, Sammy, watched us, smiling shyly. Gathering my bags, we loaded them into the car and set off for Ny's home. Sammy, over his shyness before we had left the carpark, was joining in our conversation.