The Flight

Well, we departed from Rochester on Sunday for the long trip to Australia.  It all started in the lovely Rochester airport.  We arrived quite early.  Early enough, in fact, to sample some of the local cuisine.  We enjoyed a chicken sub from Subway, and I have to say the Rochester airport had perhaps the two nicest Subway employees I’ve encountered.  The young man who made our sub asked where we were traveling, and when we said Australia, he commented that we should look at the stars.  He’d seen on the Discovery Channel that it’s one of the best places on Earth to stargaze.  (Though probably not in Sydney, where we will be.  I suspect that tip is valid in the other 99% of the country which is nearly empty.  Nonetheless, I appreciated his advice.)  After we munched on our sub, I broke a shoelace--not an auspicious beginning for a trip on which we plan to walk everywhere.

 

After a flight to and brief stay in a Dulles airport that lived up to its name, we were off to San Francisco.  Melissa watched Monsters vs. Aliens and I read most of Bill Bryson’s In a Sunburned Country, about his wanderings in Australia.  Good book.  We were in the middle section of the plane, so I didn’t get any good views, but I heard some people speaking German, so that was exciting.  (Yes, if that’s all it takes to excite me, I’m pretty easily excited, and our international travels might just be complete sensory overload.)

 

At the San Francisco airport we had little time, but I purchased replacement shoelaces.  Crisis averted.  We then followed the signs to the international terminal.  I felt like we were walking to some back corner of the airport, and at any time we might stumble into an alleyway.  The hallway was deserted.  But then we rounded a corner and I felt like a VIP.  We were in the Cadillac of terminals.  Ritzy shops, pristine clean floors, beautiful artwork and gentle fountains guided us to a comfortably large and quiet gate.  I imagine this is what airports are like in Scandinavia.  Again, I’m easily impressed.  We also had nice views of a sunset over the mountains by San Francisco, but my camera was packed up so I missed it.

 

The experience at the San Francisco airport quickly deteriorated.  As the gate filled up, I realized we were on a flight with more children than I would think belong in Australia.  There was at least one infant or toddler screaming for an hour straight, and sometimes many at once in some interesting harmonies.  Melissa said it’s because they’re tired.  I thought if I were tired I’d go to sleep rather than scream my head off.  Then I realized maybe they were screaming because their parents insisted on continually jostling them up and down.  Admittedly, though, I have a lot to learn.  I’m sure everyone at the gate was predicting a miserable 14-hour flight to Sydney.

 

Actually, it wasn’t too bad.  Nearly everyone fell asleep immediately, and with a few brief exceptions, there were no children screaming for the duration of the flight.  I did have trouble sleeping, even though it was very late by Rochester standards.  I’m trying to avoid the tempting cliches about sardines--suffice to say it was cramped for 14 hours.  Also, we were two rows behind the TV screen, which was nice when we wanted to watch TV, but trying to sleep sitting up while ten feet from a giant flickering screen is not easy.

 

The screen did allow for occasional updates on our position, and I made some notes for any friends who might be aviation enthusiasts.  From San Francisco to Sydney we traveled over 7,000 miles at an average speed of 500 mph.  Our elevation ranged from 33,000 ft. to 35,000, about a mile higher than Mt. Everest.  Up there, the ambient temperature hovered around -45 and we encountered winds typically between 30 and 50 mph.  We passed very close to Hawaii and New Caledonia, and were within a stone’s throw of Fiji.  We entered Sydney at sunrise, and though we were in the center of the plane again, we could glimpse some spectacular red colors in the sky as we touched down.  The only other moment of note was when the captain spoke to the plane as we were descending.  He gave us several warnings about moderate turbulence to come.  Shortly thereafter, he said, “In the event of an emergency landing, leave all your carry-on luggage behind.”  That was an odd and poorly timed comment from the captain.  It was followed by probably the smoothest descent and touchdown we’ve ever experienced.