How (not) to Travel in Fiji, Part 1

I am no stranger to travelling in a way that doesn’t quite go according to plan. This despite the fact that I am a control freak meticulous planner. Usually. There was that time in Mumbai, where I lost my shoe to the sticky clutches of Elephanta Cave mud.

Then there was that other time in Dublin when I got so caught up buying cosmetics in the duty-free that I got called as the last passenger: you know those announcements, the ones where the stern lady says:

‘Will Passenger A PLEASE BOARD IMMEDIATELY THROUGH GATE X as your plane is waiting for you’.

That time, I had to run very fast, in spite of the raging hangover and bronchitis (I was 22, it seemed like a good idea to drink too much while ill with fever). My friend was lying on the floor of the airport that morning, and I honestly can’t remember how we got ourselves home. I am not going to have much of a moral high ground one day when I have teenage children.

But THIS time, this time topped them all, because it was actually completely my fault. And the result was so serendipitous. Here, in list form:

• Presume that the departure time on my confirmed e-ticket was, in fact the departure time. And not triple-check it, as I usually would
• Accept a lift to Tullamarine Airport from a friend burdened with a Family Travel Curse which has resulted in lateness for every plane they have ever caught. Like, running on the tarmac lateness
• Then, go out to dinner with same friend, in St Kilda. On a sunny Sunday evening. When everyone else in Melbourne had had the same idea. Now, for those of you who don’t live here, St Kilda is rather a long way from the airport. Especially when there is traffic. As there is on sunny evenings. LA style traffic
• Sit too long chatting and leave the restaurant twenty minutes before I am supposed to be getting on my plane
• Proceed to assure crazed, speed-law-breaking friend that all will be well (how could I know this? Was it the champagne speaking?)
• Arrive at airport at eleven pm, gaze up at departures board, and see that the fllight leaves at eleven pm
• But it’s been delayed fifteen minutes
• Find someone to tell me that I have, in fact, missed the flight, and I ought to go home and come back on Tuesday
• Stand around for a little bit. Then the lady who told me I had missed the flight makes some phone calls, gets a baggage loading guy to come and personally fetch my suitcase, and greenlights me through customs and immigration and onto the plane. Why? I have no idea. I was quite resigned to missing the flight. But I did also know that I would be on it. One of those moments, you know?
• Get upgraded to First Class for the latter part of the flight because it seems I am going to miss my connecting flight. Not that the lateness of  the plane had anything to do with me in the first place!
• Upon landing at Nadi Airport in Fiji, get hustled off the plane first, and escorted through customs and immigration at speed by a shiny-badged official holding his arm out to keep people at bay, as if I am some kind of celebrity
• Wait an hour for the flight to Savusavu. The one I was at risk of missing. Welcome to Fiji!

And that was just the journey THERE. Wait till you hear about the journey back!

Equanimity has not always been my strong suit, but I found myself preternaturally calm through all this, so much so that people have started to theorise that perhaps the staying calm is what got the good results. I think that perhaps staying calm means you experience most results as good. See the subtle difference?