In 2019, after attending games in Paris and Reims, we decided to go to the next Women’s World Cup, where ever it might be. Woo hoo, Australia/New Zealand won the bid.
We have a mixed marriage. I’m totally game to root for my adopted USA, but England will always hold a place for me. Since Beloved made initial arrangements, we headed to NZ, because that’s where the USA was playing… so sadly, no St. George flags for me. 2027, that’s gonna change.)
Booked our tickets on Air New Zealand – the only carrier going non-stop into Auckland. $1,900 each – $600RT each more than regular economy, but Premium Economy is really nice. Wider seats, decent recline, nice amount of legroom…
Decided to… what the hell… bid on an upgrade. We’ve never flown in international Business class, although we’ve been able to admire the American Airlines version when Granny came with us to England last year (we went up to see her during the flight).
The lowest you could bid was $550 each, one way, and the most was $2,000 (bah!). I thought bidding the minimum was a waste of time, but $625 each… weellll…. Unlikely, but you never know…
Astonishingly, five days before the flight, we were notified of our upgrade… oh, and BTW, we’ve already charged your credit card, thanks for the $1,250.
The flight was on time, but we were early – we arrived at LAX an hour before bag drop opened. UNNGH. Rather than being able to head to the Star Alliance Lounge to relax, we had to sit with the masses (actually, fight for a spot to find somewhere to sit… we weren’t even allowed to queue to check ). Also, at five hours’ pre-flight, the bag tag machine wouldn’t work.
So, off we went to wait.
There is precious little seating in TBIT (Tom Bradley International Terminal, or Terminal B, as LAX confusingly refers to it – as my sister points out, sounds too much like “terminal 3”). Probably they don’t want homeless setting up camp there.
However, it means there’s no where to sit, because any free seat is snapped up by the hordes circling like underfed buzzards.
Instead, we opted to pay $4 for a small plastic wrapped little chocolate muffin so we could legitimately take up half of a grubby, time worn table, shared with an employee (presumably on a break) who periodically attempted to break into the stream of non-stop Tagalog being shouted out of his phone.
I’m no Filipino, but I can tell an angry mother when I hear one. Heck, I’ve done that to my kids on more than one occasion. I sympathized with the poor lad.
At 20 minutes to opening, we decided to abandon the crowded eating area and headed to the queue. Damn, but we were forbidden from lining up… and apparently that prohibition was lifted as soon as we left the area. The line for the business and premium economy was a dozen people deep, and the general line was worse. Not a Kiwi employee in sight.
Usually I’m the one casting about to find a way to get through quickly. This time, however, it was Beloved who shot over to the machines and got tags for our bags after she noticed two guys were taking tagged bags. Heading into the “online check in bag drop” line (consisting of one other person and us) the people from the general check in were getting antsy.
The woman at the head of general shoved in after the people in front of us were processed and the guy was too polite to refuse her. Well, that started it.
The two women now at the head of general explained to us in great detail how they were in the correct line and insinuated they were next. After attempting to explain obtaining bag tags would get them in our line (and both guys had signs “Online check in bag drop ONLY”) we gave up. You know how some people just don’t want to understand? Yeah.
Fortunately, they took us next as the line behind us grew as more people figured out the trick.
We left at ten minutes to the hour, walking past the line of premium/business passengers. MORAL: check in online and use the bag tag machines.
Went to TSA… despite our both having Global Entry, no pre-check for us. Funnily enough, New Zealand isn’t interested in paying to support the US’ Homeland Security, so since they don’t pay, their passengers don’t participate. If you fly ANZ, no speedy lanes for YOU. Nope. I asked if our business class tickets had any effect and got the side eye from the guy directing traffic.
“That only counts on the plane, not on the ground.”
Beloved giggled. “Guess he told you…”
Huh.
Well, off to be invasively examined. My advice: whenever you travel, no matter how dorky you think it looks, no matter the ridicule to which your children subject you, wear socks with your sandals… at least until you’re through security. They no longer provide the booties they did 20 odd years ago when all this started and that floor is all KINDS of nasty.
Me, I wear my heaviest shoes to fly so socks are always involved.
After all that, I was waved through the simple machine. Beloved wound up in the line for the MRI-wanna be machine – and usually that artificial knee screams “I’m a terrorist! I’m a terrorist!!” so she’s treated to a complimentary feel up… except this time, it didn’t happen. Hooray.
Off we went to the Star Alliance Lounge, of which ANZ is a member. Quite nice, really – lots of seating, and I loved sitting outside on the patio – we had comfortable chairs and put our socked feet up on the little table (sorry if that grosses you out, especially since we were walking in security without shoes – in our defense, that table could’ve used a wipe).
The food was okay, but not the best – sandwiches (tuna/mayo, a wrap I wouldn’t eat due to condiment pollution, and a focaccia caprese) three kinds of salad (generic, “Asian influenced” (read: peanut sauce) and Caesar), Alfredo pasta, orange chicken in gloopy sauce, soups (Asian as well, two kinds of pho, chicken noodle and coconut curry), cut melon and cheesecake and lemon bars for pud.
Waited, waited, waited for boarding – when it finally happened, it was incredibly fast.
We learned why the front cabin of business fills up and the back cabin was empty when we picked our seats: when you enter the plane (between the two cabins, where the bathroom is) those in the front section turn right and we, in the back cabin, went to the left.
Followed by the entire plane load of people.
Who filed past our seats with varying degrees of envy, hostility, glee and friendly “gosh aren’t you lucky” smiles.
So, if you’re choosing your seats, the service (IMO) is better in the back as there are fewer seats and you don’t seem to wait long to get food, drinks, etc, but the people at the front have privacy at boarding. You choose.
The seats themselves are old. It’s an aging setup, the seats are a bit worn, and there’s precious little privacy – but no way to be comfy with your other half, it’s an odd conundrum.
We first chose two seats next to each other in the middle, but looking at the plans and what a couple of other people already blogged/vlogged, we decided to go with across the aisle. You can’t remove the divider between the two center seats and they face away from each other, and I like to hold her hand during the flight. That’s the only real bummer on this aircraft.
So we tried again.
And discovered we chose the new seats poorly. Seats 11A & B are prevented from even seeing each other by the high divider and the angle. Fortunately, though the cabin was only half full, so by my switching to 12B, I had a clear view of 11A, so we could at least see each other and talk during the flight.
There’s a footrest at every seat which becomes part of the bed, and ANZ advertises it has a seatbelt, the being idea so you could eat with your partner.
Well, the table is plenty large but so is my backside. In practicality, it’s useless for couples dining as would only fit the smallest of the petite or a child.
Anyone who knows me is aware that 9pm is primo sleepy time. A 10pm departure followed by dinner service is torture. God help the poor souls on the 11pm flight.
The FAs cottoned on rapidly that I was struggling to stay conscious so recommended the “fast dine”: soup (red lentil, tomato and tamarind soup), a soft pretzel roll and a slice of garlic bread with chunks so large they qualified as a serving of vegetables (oh, nooooo). They first brought the amuse-bouche of edamame humus, truffle oil (could’a been a very dark olive for all I could tell) and asparagus. Not bad.
Tamarind, I knew, is a tree… and the soup tasted of old bark. I ate the roll and dessert (praline cheesecake) and the kindly FA asked if I’d like to just have my bed made up as Beloved started on her appetizer – she’d opted for the braised beef (delicious, she told me the next morning).
And the time came for the real joy of the journey… a bed. A beddy bed. No teddy, but everything else was there – memory foam encased in a top in sheet, a comforter (well washed during it’s time of service), two pillows and a seat belt.
I’m 5’4” and no petite. I could juuuuuuust about lie down without bending top to toe on my tum with my feet in pointe position. I like to have my arms over my head, too, but that wasn’t happening with my bent feet.
But it was heaven. I can also side sleep slightly bent and that worked great. Worth every penny. I slept like a log for probably eight of the 13 hour flight and we got to Auckland feeling good.
Breakfast was berry pancakes and a croissant, and they had snacks out all the time for those who felt the urge.
The bathrooms are a hoot (and someone MUST have been cleaning them) – the picture on the wall shows an old guy in aviator cap and goggles peering in an airplane window…
and behind the lav… an actual window. So you can moon the tarmac if you go before/after takeoff (yes, it has a blind if you’re that concerned).
The seats themselves are quite comfortable but not overly generous. If you’re seriously plus size, it might be small. If you’re claustrophobic, the high walls between which you sleep could pose a problem.
Storage is adequate and there’s always the overhead bins. I got my modest backpack under the footrest. There’s a bit of room over your shoulder next to the TV, which pops out.
The seats at the back per seat guru, are yellow coded for caution because there might be a baby in a bassinet behind you. Nope. The 12th row window seats are actually quite awesome – they’re kind of tucked away, so you have a modicum more privacy.
And… for anyone interested… the amenities pack. The pack itself, made of heavy cardboard material, strongly resembles an airsick bag. Intentional? I don’t know.
The contents were pretty decent…
Examining Misadventures 