The Pre-Flight Chaos
I started my very first trip overseas the way every travel pro says you shouldn’t: running around L.A. like a maniac, nearly dying in traffic, and trying to buy cat litter at 7 a.m. (Don’t ask. Seriously, just don’t.)
What should’ve been a peaceful day of gentle packing and saying calm goodbyes quickly morphed into a GTA side quest. It started with the Great Cat Litter Emergency, followed by a pit stop at my parents’ place to drop off some essentials. Then it was off to see my grandma to help prep her Christmas letter (because clearly that couldn’t wait until after my 13-hour flight). Somewhere in there, I realized I hadn’t eaten in a day or two, hadn’t printed my ticket (the app failed), and didn’t have any local currency. But sure—let’s go international.
By the time my ride dropped me off at LAX, I was emotionally bankrupt and spiritually craving a snack. And then… LAX happened.
Despite the airline giving me a mobile ticket (which turned out to be as useful as a screen door on a submarine), I ended up standing in line at an empty check-in counter for 40 minutes. No kiosks. No mercy. Security took another 20. I was officially done with life before I even made it to the gate.
Boarding the Hobbit Plane
The upside? I was flying Air New Zealand. And they weren’t just any plane—they had Smaug painted across the entire side like an airborne warning to basic travelers: this flight is not for you.
Inside? A Lord of the Rings safety video. I’m talking full-on production value, cameos, costumes—the whole Shire shebang. My inner nerd ascended.
Was I going to New Zealand just because of LOTR and The Hobbit? No. Did I pack a map of Middle Earth just in case? Also no. (Okay, maybe yes.) But when you’re surrounded by airline branding straight out of Tolkien’s fanfiction dreams, you stop pretending. You lean in.
Dinner Without a Fork
Somewhere over the Pacific, dinner was served—vegetarian option, because airplane meat is a horror show waiting to happen. Just as I was halfway into battling a chunk of eggplant, my fork vanished. Poof. Gone.
Have you ever tried to cut vegetables with a spoon? In turbulence?
It’s basically an Olympic sport.
Dinner was… edible. Barely. The smell of beef and chicken around me felt like being trapped in a microwave of regret. I curled up under the scratchy blanket, thankful for one thing: being short enough to stretch out without going full fetal.
The In-Flight Movie Marathon (a.k.a How I Didn’t Sleep)
The In-Flight Movie Marathon (A.K.A. How I Didn’t Sleep)
The in-flight entertainment? A buffet of vintage goodness:
- Caddyshack
- Gentlemen Prefer Blondes
- Singing in the Rain
- Beetlejuice
- Superman (the one with Christopher Reeve)
- The Shawshank Redemption
Every time I closed my eyes, I’d wake up mid-movie with zero idea what was happening. I remember dreaming I was choking on a string. Woke up coughing. Classic me.
Other revelations:
- Marilyn Monroe had a presence.
- Young Winona Ryder was a vibe.
- Christopher Reeve? Underrated heartthrob.
- I didn’t need headphones—I knew half these movies by heart.
Man in the Clouds
Somewhere near the tail end of the flight, I finally spoke to the guy sitting next to me. I’d call him “cloud hippie”—rumpled clothes, wild hair, and a chill New Zealand accent that made everything sound like a lullaby.
We hadn’t said a word for 12 hours, but when he finally stood up, I took the chance to stretch too. He smiled and pulled my bag down without being asked. Bonus points: he didn’t snore, and he was vegetarian too. Destiny? Nah. But appreciated.
He asked, “You’ll be here for Christmas, then?”
“Yeah, going home the 26th.”
“That’s too bad. You should try to stay longer. You’re going to love it.”
And looking out the window, I could see why. Just clouds. Endless, glorious clouds.
Aotearoa
As we descended through the thick white haze, he said it again:
“Aotearoa. Land of the long white cloud.”
“Oh, ha, couldn’t tell…” I said with a wink. Sarcasm is my default defense mechanism.
He smirked. “Try it again,” he offered.
“Ao… te… uh…”
My version sounded like a sneeze and a question mark got into a bar fight. He grinned but didn’t correct me. Just nodded.
I laughed and leaned back in my seat.
“Yeah… I’m never gonna be able to say that right.”
Still, I smiled. I was here. A new place. A new story. And hopefully… a fork.
✈️ What I Learned (So You Don’t Repeat Me)
- Mobile boarding passes are a lie. Print your ticket like it’s 1999.
- Vegetarian meals are fine—just BYOF (bring your own fork).
- LAX is a cursed dimension. Give it four hours or give up.
- Flying with a painted dragon on your plane? Peak serotonin.
- Seatmates matter. If you find a Cloud Hippie, never let go.
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