Yesterday evening the best girlfriend and me where in an ecstatic mood: we had booked a rather luxurious little dig in Auckland, had tickets to see Steely Dan tonight and, thanks to the proximity to Oamaru Airport, could work until 45 minutes before departure and still easily catch our plane to Christchurch, which would connect us to a Airbus to
Ork City Auckland. The two ladies at the check in where in a splendid mood and confirmed that everything was going swimmingly and punctual. We ventured outside to see the plane land and as expected heard the hum of the two turboprops above us, just to hear them vanish again. ‘Low Cloud’, We’re not talking about fog. We’re talking about clouds. Sigh.
The cheerful baggage handler just shrugged and yelled ‘she’s not coming down, bro’ before dispatching our luggage back to us. So went to have a brillant meal at our favourite restaurant, bought a nice bottle of Merlot and transferred the hotel experience back home (with rabbits thrown in for good measure).
Today we make another attempt at getting to
the most ugly urban space outside Port Morseby Auckland by taking the next scheduled flight in 2 hours.
There’s clouds in the sky. Wish us luck.