LeavingNZ

   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. Thanking her, I put the gift into my carry on bag, saying I wouldn't open it till I met with Mike. 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. 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 when I went to pick them up, I was stopped by an official and askied 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. Hanging 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 sceptical look 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 had formed a good friendship. Finally, we meet face to face and could really hug each other! Ny's young son, Sammy, stood beside her, smiling shyly as he watched us. Gathering my bags, we loaded them into the car and set off for Ny's home. Sammy's shyness had dissolved before we had left the carpark and he was joining in our conversation. There was little sign of the apprehension that she later admitted to feeling, (her children had been as wary as mine, warning her of the dangers of having a stranger in her home). Not helping Ny's nervousness was her misplacing the flight information. This had caused a frantic visit into TA, looking for someone who had my itinerary. Fortunately, I had sent out copies of my plans to all friends so that problem was soon rectified.

    Day two saw a more relaxed Ny, and she was a great hostess. We had a busy week, investigating the city, visiting with Ny's family, (all friendly despite their warnings), going to shopping malls, (the size of which stunned me), tourist spots such as the Ball Tower, and places of historical interest, (never did I think I would stand on the site where Kennedy was assassinated)......all a bonus as it was not the purpose of my holiday. And, we talked, and talked and talked. Now though, I could see the smiles, hear the voice, (very soft and with an accent), and feel the warm hugs.

    Sammy now had no qualms about questions/comments and one night during dinner, he asked why did I eat funny. Looking at the others, I realised I was the only one using both knife and fork. Not only that, I held my fork upside down! I could only chuckle, at both the question and the differences, in something as simple as they different way we use tableware.     While in Dallas, I was introduced to Dr Pepper, black beans, plantain and iced tea. I had vowed that I would be trying everything that was new, some have since become favourites, some, like chicken fried steak, and biscuits, (scones to me) and white gravy, once was enough! I was not used to scones smothered in a gravy!

     I drove for the first time while here. My task was to follow Ny for a distance of about 5 miles. After much reassurance, I decided I could do this small thing, after all, I had been driving since I was 15. It ony took a few minutes before I was breaking out in a sweat, I couldn't shake the feeling that any turns I made would have me facing oncoming traffic! Safely delivering the car I passed the keys to Ny and told her that would be my only experience of driving. I held firm to that statement for quite some time, while in LA, near the end of my travels, would be my next venture behind the wheel.

    One hilarious memory of my stay in Dallas was of Ny and I, accompanied by her children, visiting a mall. On the way out, we made the rash decision to play leapfrog with the posts at the exit. Forgetting age, and ignoring Ny's children�s comments, we lined up for the run and leap. Ny collapsed with laughter before making the leap while I crashed on the post instead of getting over it.........Ouch!!

    The week came to an end and it was time for both of us to pack our bags as we, NY and I, were to attend a large chat meet in San Antonio.The drive was long, the road straight and flat, a stark contrast to the hills of home! Still suffering jet lag, I dozed at times on the drive. Waking and looking around, I would ask Ny if we had moved at all? I had never driven such a length of time with no change in the landscape.