48 Hours in America

48 hours in America                                                                                                        6-1-2011

Okay, I have two disclaimers I have to offer before you read beyond this point. First, the title of the blog is “Wizard of Oz.” At first, I thought that was a pretty decent name—I was actually pretty excited for this rare instance of creativity.

After having a conversation with Marc Peters in an LA airport (more to come on that later) and several hours on a plane to think about this, I realized that wizard and Arkansas connection might not have the best associations (i.e. see Harrison, AR.). Unfortunately, I don't know how to change the blog title, so this explanation will have to suffice.

As such, it is important to note that the name for the blog came from the word association with Australia, not “Pastor Robb” from Harrison. When I was doing my housing research, I kept seeing the word “Oz” popping up. After seeing this several times, I realized that the word “Oz” actually was a play on “Aus” for Australia( I know it takes me a bit longer than others sometimes... )So, please note that the name of the blog came from this association rather than the other.

So, the second disclaimer: the title of this first post on the blog relates to a West Wing episode.  For those of you who aren’t West Wing fans, this post will not make as much sense; however, for those who followed the series like I did, you will know exactly how I felt getting to “Oz.”

In 48-hours in America, Josh, Tobby, and Donna miss the presidential motorcade outside a rural town in Indiana. The episode centers around these characters attempt to catch up with the motorcade before Air Force One left to return DC. Along the way, these DC insiders ran into several problems; ultimately, it took them 48 hours to get back home.

During this episode, they had about everything bad happen to them that possibly could; they ran out of gas; they failed to consider an hour time change; and they even got soaking wet from a torrential rain storm. In the end, however, all of these terrible circumstances led them to having a conversation in a hotel bar. This conversation changed everything.

The man was hoping to send his daughter to Notre Dame. Unfortunately, the man was having trouble finding the extra money to pay for her expensive college tuition: He was worried that he would not be able to send his daughter to college.

From this conversation, one of the central pieces of the President’s re-election campaign was discovered. So, in the end, the 48-hours were well spent, but during all the difficult times, it was hard for that group to see it.  I think that is almost always true for life as well.

My trip all started about 9:30am Arkansas time when I got a phone call from Marc Peters. Several months before this call, Marc, who is in Western Australia for the next three months, and I decided to travel to Australia together. The morning of our scheduled departure, however, all of those plans changed with a phone call from him.

Marc told me that ALL of the flights from BWI to Dallas were canceled. Because of this, we no longer were going to be on the same flight. He was able to find another flight that left an airport about an hour away from him to take him to LA and then from LA he was going to Sydney.  Even though it wasn’t our original plan, this slight audible was going to work out in the end—Marc was actually going to get to the Sydney airport an hour before my flight from Dallas. Despite the fact that neither of us had cell phones or really anyway of finding each other once in Sydney, we decided to move forward with this new plan, which we believed was our only course of action. Well, we were wrong about one thing: there were definitely several other paths to make it to Sydney. I think both of us about experienced all of those ways during the next few hours.

When I got to Memphis to check into my flight, life was good. I had spoken to American Airlines earlier that day, and the airlines said it would contact me if anything changed about the status of my flights. I got a chance to spend time with my brother, his wife, and their little baby boy Cooper (who just started walking). And, after making a brief pit stop at the Rendezvous, my mom and grandma took me to the airport. Life was good. When I walked up to the airport counter, I learned that there was a slight problem with my flights. The good day rapidly began to deteriorate—the first leg of my flight had been pushed back nearly an hour.

Originally, I was only going to have a couple of hours in Dallas, so this short delay in Memphis was concerning. I walked up to the AA counter to find a frumpy-looking woman who didn’t seem like she particularly cared to be working that day. I couldn’t help but think to myself that I was never going to get out of Memphis dealing with her. To my surprise, she was great and very helpful.

After speaking to Ms. Danna at the AA counter, she assured me that I would have 50 minutes from when I landed in Dallas to when the next flight was to be boarded. She told me not to worry, so I didn’t. I could live with this news. After this conversation, my mom, grandma, and I went for a starbucks coffee and visited a bit more.

About 5:00pm I decided that I should get ready for my flight and go ahead and try to get through security. Before going into security, my grandma pointed out that my flight had been pushed back another hour: This was a game changer. Because of this delay, we all knew that I would definitely not make my connecting flight in Dallas. So the fun began.

As I approached Ms. Danna she was dealing with another customer, and she broke aside from talking with him and told me that she had me covered. I was skeptical. You see, she also said that to the other customer before me. She took care of him by giving him a flight out the next morning. I thought I was toast.

After dealing with the other customer, she said she had a couple choices for me. I thought this should be good. Again, she surprised me.  She went on to tell me that she could get me on a flight with DELTA that left Memphis in the next hour that would go to LA. From there, there were two flights from LA to Sydney.

At this point, I immediately sent a message to Marc who was boarding his plane on this East coast (barely caught him in time) to figure out what flight he was on from LA to Sydney.  As it turned out there was room on the late flight, so I took it. It really was kind of crazy; Marc and I would be on the same flight, despite the fact that we were both leaving from different parts of America and on different flights than we originally booked. Of course, that would be the case if I was able to catch the first leg of my flight.

After Ms. Danna got all my flight information situated I had to get my bags and get make it through security. I also had to get a boarding pass from the DELTA people. This turned into a fiasco. After having little help from the DELTA people, I finally secured my boarding pass and was ready to check my luggage for the second time that afternoon. Checking luggage should be easy right? After putting my first bag on the belt (which weighed approximately 30 lbs), the DELTA representative asked me to place my second bag on the scale. I did as she asked:  It weighed 54 lbs. This was a problem for her. Evidently, DELTA doesn’t allow for bags to weigh more than 50lbs (A change in policy from AA where I had successfully checked my bags only minutes before). I had a choice to make. I could try to transfer stuff to another bag or pay $200 extra dollars for my extra 4 lbs. I opted for the first choice.

The following still makes me upset. First, my bags by this time had already been cleared one time. During that first time, AA never had any problems with my bag being 4lbs overweight. Yet, DELTA wanted me to pay an extra $200. Ridiculous. The second thing that makes me mad is the fact that I was allowed to check two bags, which could both weigh 50 lbs. Given the fact, that one bag was 20lbs underweight, I think the lady should have overlooked that my other bag that was 4lbs overweight. The way I see it still is that DELTA owed me 16lbs. Instead, I had to pull out all my clothes—which were nicely folded I should add— and jam the stuff into the other bag in front of the entire airport. Lastly, the lady wasn’t very nice, and I was sure to let her know that I felt that way about her.

After rushing through security (hoping that I wasn’t going to miss my flight), I found out that my flight had been delayed an hour. This meant that once again that I might miss my connecting flight to Sydney. Luckily, I somehow made my connection. Upon arriving to LAX, I had to rush through the airport—which was conveniently under renovation—to try to board my flight to Sydney.

 It wasn’t until I arrived to LAX that I was told that I had to change terminals, which ultimately meant going through security again. I had one hour until my flight boarded, and I knew it was going to be a close call. By this point, my phone was about to die, and I was just hoping that Marc had made it. At some point, I made a quick phone call to him and he offered me some great advice on how to navigate that airport. I finally made it to the gate as the plane was boarding—it was definitely a close call. The moral of this story is never fly DELTA. If there are no other options, then take a bus.

By the time that I made it on the flight, I was pretty worn out. I hadn’t had dinner and had nearly missed four flights. All I wanted to do was rest. Instead, I met a lovely flight attendant who had a bit of a problem with my carry-on bag. Evidently, it was too big (thank you DELTA). Instead of allowing me to place under my seat—where it would clearly fit— she placed it about a half-mile away or at least on the opposite side of our 747 airplane. I didn’t expect to see that bag again.

One thing I’ve embraced recently is this: As bad as some circumstances might be, things could always be worse. Because of this, I realized I needed to be content in the moment and appreciate the opportunities around me. Soon after having this realization, I ended up striking up a conversation with the person next to me on the plane. It was about 5:15 am at this point, and I noticed he was having a few small issues.

If you have ever flown Qantas, then you will remember that the controls for your personal light, the in-flight entertainment, the flight attendant button, etc. has a cord on it that only allows the remote to be pulled out a certain length. I guess this feature was in place to stop people from tripping over loose cords or getting controllers mixed up. Regardless of the reason, these things were very ineffective. I spent probably 15 minutes of intense concentration trying to just figure out how to get mine out of the holster. As such, I could definitely empathize with another person who might be struggling with his/her remote.

Later in the flight, I noticed that the person next to me kept yanking his controller up in the air. He was obviously frustrated, and I felt his pain. I later realized his cabin light was on and he was trying to turn it off. The problem was that his cord wouldn’t go far enough to allow him to turn his light off. He was out of range and out of luck.

 So he did what just about any normal person would do at 5:15 am: He gave it a good yank. Well, the yank did the trick, but it ended up ripping the entire bottom half of the control off. Honestly, I couldn’t help but laugh, so I had to say something, and I introduced myself.

After that point, we ended up talking the remainder of the flight into Sydney. It turned out that he was a professor that was returning to the University of Sydney from a 2-month trip in the US where he was doing some work with the Kennedy School. Given his background, we had a lot in common and he offered several pieces of great information on Sydney, my project, and a variety of other topics.

Since that time, we have e-mailed back and forth and he is helping connect me with faculty members at a few universities around the area. All in all, it turned out to be a good flight and by the time I arrived to Sydney, I was feeling much better.

Once I got off the plane, the real fun began. After spending about 30 minutes watching everyone around me get my bags, I realized that no matter how long I waited or how long I gazed at that conveyor belt, my bags were  never going to appear. So, after consulting with Marc, we thought we better approach the notorious Qantas help desk. Just by looking at the faces of people around me I knew I was in trouble.

After waiting about 20 minutes, I finally approached the desk only to realize that I was in the wrong place. Like my friend from the plane, I did the only thing I could think of doing— I acted oblivious to being in the wrong line. I handed her my passport and my ticket. She quickly uncovered my elaborate plot. In my best Arkansan, I said “looks like I’m in da wrooong placcce. Wuld yaaa minddd to helppp me?” She felt sorry for me so she did what she could.

They informed us that this stuff happens all the time and not to worry, but that is easy for them say. At that point, Marc and I didn’t have a phone, didn’t know where we were staying, and had no idea how to get around the city. Fortunately, we were able to arrange with the Qantas representatives to drop the bags off at the hostel we were staying at.

We then left for the hostel. Seedy doesn’t begin to describe the Chili Blue Hostel. I don’t know which should have been the first to raise a red flag; the name (good ole Chili Blue) or the fact that the internet priced the room for only $11 a night. Unfortunately, I missed the warning signs.

 Once we arrived at Chili Blue, our home for two very long nights, they showed us to our beautiful room, which had a gorgeous view of a storage closet. The bars on the windows were a very nice touch. We put our stuff down and Marc hopped on the bed only to realize that the sheets were wet. Needless to say, we didn’t spend too much time in good ole chili blue.

Later, we found out that Kings Cross, where Chili Blue is located, was the old red light district of Sydney. There are several stories that surround that topic that will have to be noted down the road. It goes without saying, though, that I quickly realized that we weren’t in Arkansas anymore.

Over the next several days, we spent our time seeing the sights, watching NBA basketball games, and trying to get situated. We visited the Olympic Park and journeyed across the city trying to find a place to live. Finally, on late Tuesday afternoon my bags came in; I was a new man! Once again, it was nice reminder of the importance of always appreciating the simple things in life. It was amazing how nice a clean shirt felt after three days. Marc appreciated my bags arriving too.

Today, I am writing from a coffee shop in North Sydney and my circumstances are much better. I just found a place to live and even have cell phone. It is hard to believe that I will start work in only a few days. I am really excited about meeting the office and getting started on the project.  Sydney is a great city; the people are wonderful. Of course, I miss Arkansas, but I’m very excited about the next few months and the adventure that will take place.