Aha!  I have found a solution to my “How can I stop rushing around like a headless chicken?” problem.

The answer, albeit temporary – catch a four hour flight to Melbourne to visit my brother.  Yep, that’ll do it.  Four hours in a plane, sitting still.  Just being.  Not rushing.  Someone else to hand me dinner and a glass of wine.  And someone else to sort out the dishes afterwards.  Bliss!

It’s been over a year since my last solo travel adventure.  That one was to Christchurch.  This time, I’ve been a bit braver and done the international flight thing.  Nothing too impressive about that to anyone else, I realise.  But for me, who seems to have been born without an internal compass, the thought of navigating my way around an airport is somewhat terrifying.

What if I can’t find my gate?  What if I accidentally get on the wrong plane?  What if I end up in Barcelona?

But the navigational part is only one of the aspects of solo travel that gives me tummy flips.

Packing my suitcase is also slightly unnerving.  I read the airline travel information before I pack.  I know that I shouldn’t pack any prohibited items.  Note to self – Do NOT pack any drugs or bombs.  Or guns.  But the thing is (and this is how my brain works), what if I accidentally pack the guns that I don’t even own!  (Thank you Christy for that line.  I work with Christy.  She gets me.)

I arrived at the airport in good time.  First tick.

Check-in accomplished successfully.  We’re staying calm and we’re breathing.

Baggage drop, done.

Security – “Do you have anything in your pockets?”.  Breathing stops.  Do I?  I can’t remember!  I really hope not.  I especially hope I haven’t put any drugs in my pockets.  Or sharp, pointy objects.  

A frantic search of my pockets allays my fears.  No drugs or pointy things.  Nothing at all in fact.  Breathing resumes.

Customs – breezed right through.  Shoulders back.  Huh!  I’m actually getting good at this.

Last step – find boarding gate.  Ok, deep breath, because navigation will be involved.  Stay calm, breathe and look at all and any directional signage.  Whatever you do, do NOT look at the bright shiny things for sale either side of you.  They are there to tempt and distract you.  They will all look so pretty and smell so nice, and you know that those ridiculously oversized Toblerones will be calling to you!  But be strong, resist and concentrate on NOT GETTING LOST!

Well, I did manage to find the correct boarding gate.  In fact, I found it with over an hour to spare.  Most people would go and get something to eat or drink at this point, or maybe wander the shops.  But I was so relieved to find my gate successfully that I decided to stay put.  And after a busy day at work in the cafe, I truly was quite happy just to sit.   Happy, that is, until ten minutes before boarding when I suddenly remembered that I hadn’t been to the bathroom since I left home.  The flight was scheduled to take four hours and fifteen minutes. That’s a fairly long time for a female – bladder-wise.   And I knew that I had a window seat on the plane.  It really is so awkward having to ask people in your row to all stand up and let you out if you need to use the conveniences whilst on a flight.  I would rather not, if at all possible.  And then I noticed the Toilets sign at the other end of the boarding lounge.  The lounge was fairly full at this point.  Because I had arrived at the gate so early, I had a prime seat near the boarding gate, with a free seat on either side of me (important to introverts), which I would probably lose if I decided to make a dash for the bathroom.  Not that one can easily dash with a carry-on suitcase, laptop and good-sized handbag in tow.  The lady a few seats to my right, had also arrived not long after me.  She must have had the same thought, because all of a sudden she stood up and headed in the direction of the bathroom.  And as I suspected, it was as though a vacuum immediately sucked another awaiting passenger into her vacated prime seat.  Hmm, should I risk it?

The minutes ticked by, as I pondered my issue.  I didn’t even need to go to the bathroom – not now anyway.  But it would probably be a sensible idea.  There were still a few random seats available in the departure lounge – awkward seats, but vacant nevertheless.  I’d probably be able to find somewhere else to sit again.  Better than having problems in that department when on board.  And it wasn’t long to wait now anyway.  Right!  Decision made.  Must head to the bathroom.  And then came the announcement to board the plane.  Oops, opportunity missed!  I daren’t make a dash for it now.  What if I don’t make it back on time?  What if I go to the wrong gate?  Barcelona and all that.

So I moved to Plan B, deciding that my time on board would be spent in dehydration and joined the queue to board.

I actually really love the flying part of flying.  And I always prefer a window seat, even though it comes with the aforementioned awkward complication.   This time, the seat between myself and the young gentleman on the aisle seat was empty, which was an added bonus, particularly as the poor guy not only managed to slop his dinner on his trousers but also went on to knock over his full can of beer,  making quite the mess.  He was very apologetic and I smiled my condolences as I handed him my serviette to aid in the mopping up and quietly went back to sipping my wine (yes, I decided to make a small amendment to my dehydration plan).

As we approached the end of our flight, I began preparing myself for “The Other Side” ie. the stuff that happens when you exit the plane.

I went through the steps in my head, mentally underlining “Do Not Forget to Collect Your Suitcase” – which was then followed by a new thought.  What happens if my suitcase is not there?  My luggage has never gone missing before, although I have heard horror stories from others about having to survive several days on whatever they had packed in their carry-on, while their checked-in suitcases were retrieved from other peculiar places.

I really, really hoped that this would not happen to me.   Particularly not this time.  This time, my carry-on case contained five vinyl records that my brother had bought online and which had been delivered to Auckland.  And that was all.  Let that be a lesson to you people – being a vinyl record mule may well have its consequences – if your other suitcases go missing that is.  It’s a risk is all I’m saying

Despite being a mule of sorts, I made it through Security and Customs without any dramas – trying not to even think the word Drugs, just in case it made me look suspicious.

I remembered to check the screen for my flight and the corresponding baggage claim number.  Go me.

Correct carousel located and I’m waiting for my luggage.  

A few minutes before leaving for the airport, I had decided to put a ribbon around the handle of my suitcase.  It wasn’t big, but it was bright yellow. It had seemed like a sensible thing to do.  I’ve been working on this “Trying to be sensible and think like a grown up” thing for awhile now.  And this time it paid off.  For, just as I spotted my suitcase in the distance, with its flash of bright yellow on the handle, another waiting passenger darted forward to the conveyor belt, grabbed my suitcase, put it on her luggage trolley and began to walk away!

Shut the Front Door and Call the Police!

With my carry-on suitcase, laptop bag and rather large handbag in tow I bolted over to her unceremoniously and exclaimed in alarm “Excuse me, I think you have my suitcase!”.  She seemed unconvinced and in fact rather suspicious, until I pointed out the yellow ribbon and the baggage tag with my name on it.

Close call.  A week without my hair straightener would not have been good for the world.

Suitcase recovered, prayer of thanks for yellow ribbon sensibility given, exit sign spotted and brother located.

Mission accomplished.