Vienna Airport at last!

Farley does Bali

I’ve never had the desire to see Bali. I’ve never had a strong yearning for a three hour delay on the tarmac in Brisbane as the mechanics attempted to fix the fuel pumps and computer systems on a Boeing 767 either. I’ve also never really had the desire to be a passenger in a plane with two faulty fuel pumps and a bung computer – one that wasn’t going make it from Brisbane to Bangkok. And I REALLY didn’t ever want to go to Bali with an airline that knew about the plane’s faults but took off anyway, primarily because they couldn’t find enough cheap hotel rooms for everyone in Brisbane. I suppose it is the season of no room left in the inn and Christmas miracles. At least we made it to Bali.

We weren’t actually allowed off the plane there. In Denpasar it refuelled, some coir matting and sisal rope was wrapped around the one remaining fuel pump to protect it, the tyres were kicked and the Thai Buddhists on board talked about karma. Then on to Bangkok. I usually look up to someone who’s willing to take risks at work, though I find that trait to be far less admirable when that person is the captain of your aircraft.

On arriving in Bangkok we had been on the plane for thirteen lucky hours and I had already used up all of my pain-free butt-cheek credits and exhausted my ‘Please try to sit still without fidgeting’ capacity. This was before we had even boarded for the longest leg – our flight to Vienna. In addition we had been upgraded on this leg to Premium Economy in Brisbane, but missed that flight and were back in Economy…sigh.

My best friend at school (Rosewood of course) was Steve Clark. He was one of sixteen children, and for them to have their annual camping holiday at Cotton Tree Caravan Park it took two cars and three trips to get everyone and everything there. Times have changed, but still, for us to have a holiday in Bulgaria it will now take three planes and four trips and two days. Plus I bet the Clarks never set out knowing both fuel pumps in their Holdens were suspect and not knowing where their bags were going to be when they all finally made it to the Sunshine Coast. And I’m sure Steve was never told he was going to be sitting in the front window seat, only to be shunted to the back middle when the family was delayed by mechanical problems with the car he was in.

But then Farquar, where’s the adventure in a smooth, safe trip? What’s more, now I can really relate to Ian Schuman and Redgum, because I’ve been to Bali too. Perhaps our bags will arrive in Sophia when we finally get there as well? Miracles do happen – and not just at Christmas!

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