GET ME OFF THIS PLANE.
My heart is thudding in my chest miles above the ocean.
In another 12 hours, I'll be back in Darling Dunedin. Not real.
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On a layover in Fiji. This airport is full of tourists. And a weird Chinese man keeps ambling too close to me and leaving his luggage five feet from my chair. Just sets it down and walks away. Then creeps back behind me to retrieve it, only to leave it again on his next patrol of this area of the airport.
The birds were super chatty this morning when we exited our 12 hours flight from LA.
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Auckland. Right. No offense to those who enjoy this city, but I did not miss it.
What I have missed though, are showers. WHICH the Auckland airport has graciously provided for its patrons.
Hot water? Thumbs up.
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These clouds are so.damn.bright. They finally get the hell out of the way and I can see the happy little airstrip tucked in a valley. Surround by cattle fields.
My body feels lighter. My heart resumes its thud-thud-thud against my ribcage.
I drag my carry-on luggage from the over head bin. My feet carry me over the tiny aisle way between the seats and I finally weave my way between people to get to the gate.
Exiting the doorway into the main terminal, I try (in vain) to place a calm look on my face. Probably failing miserably as soon as my eyes make contact with a lovely looking gentleman casually glancing my way from a seat to my right.
And there's my grin. And all is right in the world again.
He even wore a button down shirt. Melt.
Boomer is back. Dunedin here I come.
