Travel

A 30 hour rummage from Hobart to Heathrow

Jun 05, 2017

What a comedy this 30 hour journey was. Bev, my travelling companion and I were travelling to London with 40 of our travel club friends for a three week European holiday. Both of us are very well organised girls and had prepared meticulously – so we thought!

Toiletries and make-up had been decanted to tiny sized containers.

We were dressed smart but comfy.

Any travel emergency could be handled from within our carry-on bags.

Magazines and puzzles were at hand to pass the time.

Earplugs, inflatable pillows, eye masks and warm wraps were ready to give a good night’s sleep.

Items for the journey were separated into small mesh bags to streamline access.

It was necessary to fly from Hobart to Tullamarine to pick up our overseas flight. Our group travelled by coach from St. Helens in northern Tasmania to the Hobart airport in the south of the state which has international status (Hobart airport retains international status from years ago, when direct flights to and from New Zealand were trialled). Whilst Launceston airport is closer to St Helens, the reason for using the Hobart airport was to take advantage of the generous international baggage allowance.

We enjoyed a delightful catered lunch at Campbelltown, our halfway stop and caught up with old travel friends. Everybody was excited and during the second part of our road trip, the excitement built. Our group is full of fun people who all know how to have a good time. The scene was set for the holiday of a lifetime. Hilarity, jokes and teasing had already begun.

Flying time from Hobart to Tullamarine is one hour and ten minutes – just long enough to put us in a long-distance flight mood. Bev and I ordered a glass of wine to go with the supplied snack of tomato salsa dip and biscuits – you know what’s coming don’t you? Bev is wearing the pristine white T-shirt and has the tiny napkin on her lap. Wrong place you say? Well you’re right. Drip, drip, drip dropped the tomato salsa onto that beautiful T-shirt. Bev is devastated, stressed and panicky. For all our thoughtful preparations and after much rummaging, all we could find to clean up was water from a drink bottle and a cotton handkerchief plus the soap from the aeroplane toilet cubicle. We rubbed and scrubbed, wetted, soaked and rinsed, whilst our travel group friends offered advice and made remarks not appreciated by Bev.

She was without a spare T-shirt and was now soaked to the skin from neckline to waistline. Although much improved, the stain still showed. “Never mind, we’ll buy a new one in an airport shop at Tullamarine.” That didn’t happen. All their T-shirts were souvenir-style; no plain white. Bev dried off a bit at the bathroom hand dryer; so began the overseas flight slightly more comfortable and slightly philosophical about the adventures of travel.

We were flying with Qantas and were thrilled with the amenities available in economy class on their Airbus Industrie A380-800. We were seated three rows back from the back of the aircraft and I had an aisle seat so access for both of us was easy. There were several toilet cubicles at the rear of the plane, plus an iced water dispenser with large-sized paper cups. A refrigerator filled with complimentary soft drinks and heaps of complimentary muesli bars. The steward pointed out another snack station, halfway down the cabin which would be set with biscuits and cheeses, fruit, water and soft drinks during the night. I was thrilled to see a half-spiral staircase leading upwards from the toilet/snack/drinks area – no doubt leading to the first class cabin; it was gated halfway, but I did manage to sprint up and down those stairs about five times every couple of hours and take some exercise.

We carefully arranged our various mesh bags, magazines, blankets, pillows and paraphernalia in the seat pocket, behind our backs and then stowed our hand luggage under the seat in front. We had easy access to everything. We were laughing and enjoying ourselves, deciding what to choose from the dinner menu, when my string of pearls broke – not knotted! The pearls cascaded everywhere, rolling and bouncing. People were on their hands and knees gathering them and I had to stand and announce that they were not valuable, only fresh-water and could go up the vacuum cleaner; they weren’t worth rummaging around to find. Another adventure of travel.

After dinner, we decided to browse our magazines until sleepy. Where were the mags? Rummage, rummage, rummage. No luck. I stood to check under my seat and you’ve guessed it…I was sitting on them.

Time to prepare for sleep and we both successfully used our mesh bags of toiletries and creams. Bev’s expensive new inflatable pillow wouldn’t inflate. Everybody tried everything without success until Bev discarded it in disgust and went without.

We slept well despite Bev’s lack of neck pillow and on waking headed for the bathroom to wash and freshen for the day and use the large mirror. Only one hiccup – Bev’s toner had leaked, but was quickly cleaned up after a tissue rummage. Back in our seats, we completed make-up details and finished with perfume. I pulled the stopper from my miniature bottle of “Tresor” perfume and the stopper broke. All the ladies around us helped use it up and the back of the plane “smelled like a brothel”, as they say!

A couple of travel tips I picked up on this journey.

Carefully extract the supplied blanket from its plastic bag, then use the plastic bag for small rubbish. Hang it next to the seat pocket.

Wear old panties and discard when you change during the journey.

Now, on this long flight we had removed our knee-high stockings and were both wearing flight socks. Between us, we had four flight socks and four knee-highs – eight items altogether. When it came time for our stopover in Dubai, we were short by one flight sock, so undertook an extensive rummage and friends helped. No sock. During coffee in the Dubai terminal, Bev looked down and gasped “I have pulled my knee-high over my flight sock!” She was so embarrassed and I was under oath not to tell.

Bev was using a flash new water bottle purchased especially for this holiday and had been gradually falling in love with it during the flight.“Isn’t it lovely?” “Don’t you like the shape?” “It’s so easy to locate because of the pink lid.”

Ha Ha to the last remark. All the rummaging in the world by ourselves and 40 travel companions could not locate it prior to landing at Heathrow. Bev decided to exit the plane last so that she could search thoroughly around the empty seats. We could tell by the look on her face as she entered the gate lounge that the flash new drink bottle was gone forever.

Our comical series of mishaps in the air between Hobart and Heathrow entertained our friends enormously – we were the hapless pair and teased relentlessly. A light-hearted, fun tone was set for the next three weeks of travel adventures.