I’ve finally bitten the bullet and gotten myself a passport after 15 years of subtle pleading and a bit less-subtle harassment from my other half.
I’m still not sure that I want to physically get in a plane and fly off to some foreign destination with customs I know nothing about but it doesn’t matter. My husband has taken the liberty of booking the flights and the accommodation at lightning speed. For somebody who knows little about the Internet he did a pretty good job of keeping one step ahead of me and out of my way. I can only hope that the impeccable record of the flying kangaroo holds in good stead until after we get home and the destination he has chosen meets all my minimal standards – clean, safe, soft toilet paper and vermin free.
It’s now four weeks until we take off and I’m starting to get myself into travel mode. I find that I am not as excited about the prospect of travelling as much as I am about the fact that my husband has booked a stretch limo to take us to the airport. That man will do anything to get me on the plane.
My first port of call was the baggage shop in my local shopping mall. I decided that the aqua blue case with yellow stripes was an easy-to-see combination on the carousel with the added bonus of almost certainly negating the possibility of theft. I would have gone for the red and black spotted one in the corner but I can only push my husband so far and I will need somebody to help me with my case at some stage. He barely negotiates with me on dressing the dogs in sedate woollen yet fashionable jumpers in the winter time.
My paranoia extended itself to bright yellow locks to match the stripes, credit card protection wallets and a fashionable body money belt. If they managed to steal my easy-to-see case they weren’t getting away with my money, my credit cards or my passport.
I’m also developing a rapport with the Qantas call centre staff, although they might call it something else. I’ve called them six times this week to determine what is classed as carry-on-luggage, as their printout and rules are ambiguous at best. I’ve had three entirely different conversations on the rules for flying with medications, injections and keeping my meds cool. I’ve finally come up with a plan that involves the purchase of a portable battery-powered mini fridge designed for epipens – after much negotiation about the safety of battery powered devices versus the safety of a couple of ice bricks that may or may not contain dangerous chemicals.
I’m going for casual-and-comfortable fashion that requires little maintenance. I’ve been told that I can purchase cheap clothing over there but I’m going on the premise that you can never have enough underwear in any situation and I’m loading up appropriately.
So wish me luck as I embark on my first-ever overseas holiday. As long as I have my seasoned-traveller husband at my side and wifi in my pocket to keep in touch with my dogs on the Internet I should be okay.