#11 The Great Escape

Life is made up of memorable moments. On the 10th November 2024 something amazing happened in Bali, unbeknown to most of the locals. I remember it clearly. We were leaving!

Goodbye to the heat. Goodbye to the insects. Goodbye to the inability to say “goodbye”. I felt like Bilbo, finally packing up his stuff and going home - except I was taking the dragon and dwarves with me. 

My wife, clearly, did not share the same excitement. Routine was not something she craved, so her adventure was coming to a close. We said our emotional farewells (mostly to the pool) and prepared our trip to the airport. 

Terminal Thoughts

On the trip back, we experienced the always good natured Balinese persona falter for a moment with our driver casually winding down the window and calling a fellow motorist, according to google translate, a “Bitch Pig”. To my surprise, the other motorist seemed open, if not accepting, of the feedback. Road rage in Bali is quite tolerable.

The trip back home, as all weary travellers know, is always longer than the outbound one. Generally, it is due to the realisation of the conclusion of a holiday, or that the pinnacle of an experience has ended and there is a dreaded return to normality. For me, it was an impatient desire to get back home! Back to my mundane! 

Unfortunately, the impatience was heightened by our timetable of departing at the end of the day. Our plane was due to depart at 9pm, which is 2.5 hours later than the kids' usual bedtime. Which meant that waiting for the plane to arrive with overtired kids (and parents) dragged on. Of course, the plane was running late! Pilot calmly informs us of an erupting volcano in Indonesia that the previous flight had to divert around. Reassured that we should have enough petrol to go the long way round. Damn I hate planes. 

It’s now half-past-too-bloody-late, but I’m not able to manage any sleep. Thankfully, the kids do! Small victories! Guy beside me starts watching Deadpool vs Wolverine, while I watch episodes of Bluey and hope he isn’t the judging sort. 

Audience Participation: Reclining air seats. What is the etiquette with these? 

Clearly, having the option to recline the seat suggests that it can be used. However, as the passenger seated behind the recliner operator, I would beg to differ. The seat practically ends up in your lap and you are forced to domino this outcome onto the unsuspecting passenger behind. 

Did discover there is a button that will re-recline in the back of the seat - the trick is kicking it hard enough.

Touchdown!

Plane lands (another small victory) and the disorientation is real as we time skip forward 5 hours into New Zealand’s tomorrow morning. Yet we are on the wrong island, so a further flight is needed. 

Thought our eldest had jeopardised this, as we were pulled aside in New Zealand customs for a suspicious package in his bag. To avoid the long and generous cavity searches, I did what any parent would do, and threw him under the bus, advising that he did pack his own bag, and he often had malevolent tendencies. 

Turns out the item in question was a squishy ball which the x-ray machines had mistakenly identified as mouldy fruit. Freedom restored. Casual laugh, pat on the shoulder, and acceptance of son back into the family. No harm, no foul.

Final plane was the smallest and without devices, so kids were left to brood. Shout out to the Air New Zealand flight attendant who did her best to keep them entertained, especially with letting them hand out and then pocket a generous helping of lollies and fudge bites. 

Parents can understand the dilemma that now prevents itself. The kids are a ticking time bomb (note: learnt you shouldn’t use this phrase while on the plane) of fatigue at this point which can be delayed with sugar, at the expense of amplifying the pending crash. Sleep deprived, we continued with the necessary evil to get through the last of the flight. 

We touched down late evening in the North Island. Home soil! I could tell, because I’m allergic to the stuff (seriously, grass allergies are not fun). The comforting asthmatic wheeze, itchy eyes, and sneezes were a godsend. We were back. 

By the time we finally reached our beds that night, a whole day had passed - what a bloody waste. Exhausted, the journey had finally concluded. 

Dub me Survivor.