#Nǐhǎo's My Bags China?

Deadpool 2 had it right to a point

Cue the music folks (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wi4mxG1RoOI)

After the debacle at Sea-Tac and sliding into my seat aboard AirChina, I realize I should have paid extra for business class. How does a 6 foot plus former marine who values fitness, wellness, and activity manage to handle a middle row seat for a 12 hour intercontinental flight? Red wine and Benadryl, folks! Several glasses, but not until I convinced the flight wasn’t going to turn around mid flight. A less liver straining trick and to deal with feet that were slowly swelling to the size of large sausages, would be to walk around the plane and head to the loo fo a wee.* (all Australian terms will be found in the glossary at the end of this page to help enhance your cultural learning). Most flight crews frown on soiling yourself whilst on a flight. Remember, when traveling internationally, one has to be aware of cultural norms and courtesies, especially on a 12 hour plane ride. Despite what might seem fine to neophyte travelers, you can’t take America with you to a different country. Unless it’s a bottle of whiskey. However, that won’t happen until later in this story. 

PEK Airport, Beijing September 2018

The plan finally lands in China. What is truly wonderful for American travelers is the labeling of a signs in English at international airports. In theory, it makes finding your connecting flight easy.* Whilst still groggy from several cocktails of wine and Benadryl, or what I affectionately refer to as “Inflight Delight.” 

Anyway, after touching down and attaching onto the big terminal arm that sucks out all of the weary travelers, I relied on something I hardly ever do. I follow the crowd. I descend toward the only path for us all to take. We forge on to a place where our happiness post journey shall be decided- Baggage Claim. 

Which was odd because I was supposed to make a connecting international flight to Sydney. My previous international experience usually entailed the air port crew hearing you along to a clearly labeled area called “Transfer” or “Connecting Flight” area. Then you find your gait after clearing a security check point. 

I did not have a visa for China (freshly remembering my Seattle experience), and I definitely didn't need to claim my bags - um Sydney bound, duh?!  Looking at my connecting flight’s boarding pass I had just over two hours to find my gate. Every airport I have ever known strongly recommends a minimum of 3 hours for connecting between international flights.  Personally, I recommend 4 hours for international flights and 3 hours for domestic. 

PEK Airport Beijing September 2018

I soon arrived at PEK (Beijing's primary international airport) baggage claim. My stroll turned into a quick paced walk. I made it through a customs check point (standard for every country I have visited) and after a customs official stamped my passport with a temporary visa, I found myself in the “Land of China” (#ForestGumpVoice).  At least I like noodles and rice, right?! 

Sydney flight. T-minus 1 hour 40 minutes.

It was then I saw something that made my heart drop. My bags were rotating around the carousel like day old sushi.  Side note... eating day old sushi is about the same as gambling on a fart after eating cabbage or the same feeling your body has after 12 hours of travel and realizing that sh*t is about to hit the fan.  I grabbed my bags on the carousel, turned and found two airport staff. Trying to keep the panic out of my voice, I ask, with my boarding pass clearly on display, “what do I need to do and where do I need to go?”  Have you ever asked a question in class, thinking you know the actual answer and then the teacher tells you something completely out of left field?  Yup, ice chunk in the stomach, and I could feel the adrenaline drop down my spine faster than a Deadmau5 beat (EDM Artist).  The airline crew tells me, “You go, they stay, you go, they stay!”  They both repeated this mantra a few more times for good measure. So I did what any good former marine does and followed orders. I left my bags there while the two crew members loaded them back on the carousel.  “Well f#ck it, I guess I won’t need clothes or my dive gear.”  “Ni Hao (hello), Beijing” I reckon is in order.

While the language barrier was definitely present, I do wish to send some great vibes out to a airport crewwoman (I assume that is how she is identifying as - #genderIDin2019).  She beckoned at me to come over and looked at my boarding pass.  She looked down, her eyes widening, and I could feel the stress of not making my flight hit me.  I have to say that the “OH SH*T” look is an international expression that transcends all languages, cultures, and ethnicities. 

Next things I know we are sprinting out of baggage claim to hail a taxi, so I can make my flight at a DIFFERENT airport.  This is new. I thought I was at the Beijing international airport. Good thing I completed 1500 miles in 2018 folks and it’s really good thing I passed on that final glass of wine before landing!!!  Dodging and weaving around people (like you do with freshman in high school), running through side employee only entrances, and bounding up a few flight of stairs, we arrive at a parking garage.  She stops and with the beads of sweat on her forehead, asks me if I have cash.  Nope, I have a card as it never occurred to me I should have Yin for my connecting flight in China. Here came the second and more severe "OH SHIT" look combined with with a "OH F#CK" sigh (can't be sure, as I don't speak Mandarin).

On your mark, get ready, GO!!!!!

Again I found those 1500 miles to come in handy. We dash up two more flights of stairs and behold the glorious ATM.  YAY!  And… it was all in Mandarin.  Holy calligraphy Batman (this time no onesie to set the mood right... Cause, I know what the ladies like).  I insert my card and the airport crewwoman brushes me aside and begins typing symbols in.  My thoughts at this point, “This is how my account gets hacked and how I will never leave China”  I get ordered to put in my PIN.  At least these were in the hindu-arabic numerals I am used to seeing.  500 Yin single note (~ $100 USD) comes out.  Off we race, back down to the parking garage.  She tells the cab driver where to go (I hope).  Simple math folks on language barriers, anxiety, and taxi services...

No SIM card = no data = no GPS/google translate = No idea where the bloody hell I am going. 

I get in the taxi.  We take off burning Ks* faster than Barry Allen with diarrhea in search of a toilet (#TheFlash). Just when I wonder if God has a sense of humor, the taxi driver  asks, “Bags? No, bags?!” Internally I experience the final trifecta of an “oh sh*t, f*ck it all” moment. Externally, I shrug my shoulders and a simple no comes out of my non Mandarin speaking lips.  It was at this moment I figured this might not be a good sign, my bags may not arrive in Sydney - not even my glorious Romper (#takinglifeintheromp).  But what choice did I really have?  He drove well and made it to the airport in no time. 50-60 minute drive in under 30 minutes. A truly legit high-five to this taxi driver who broke all my preconceived notions of Asian drivers. Who says Asians can’t drive?

Actually, all of bloody Thailand, but that’s a different story from a different trip.  Before I accepted that I need to take life in the romp.  

I arrive at the second airport - Beijing Nanyuan Airport... I think.  I've had a nap and beer since this experience (#menforgeteverything).

I gave the cumbersome 500 Yin to taxi driver, got inside the airport, and after security, which was basically throw my carry on an oversized x-ray machine and run) I Made It! I made it to my gate for yet another 12-hour flight.  

T-Minus 45 minutes till wheels up.  I made it time.

Quantas Flight Attendants Serving French Press September 2018

I boarded the Quantas 757 Jet.  Benadryl and wine consumed, movies were watched, and polite conversation ensued with the lady next to me. Sleep took over and I soon awoke to the crew serving French Press coffee.  Be  still   my   heart!  Aussie Aussie Aussie,  OI OI OI... Wake me up and talk dirty to me!!!  I have few physical vices in my life, but coffee (Sweet nectar of the gods type of coffee) is definitely one.  I fully appreciate that the Spirit of Australia was serving coffee fresh from the plunger. 

One pass over Manly Beach and the famous Sydney Opera House.  I had arrived.  No issue getting through customs (thinking back to the whole bloody visa check in Seattle). Naively, I thought it would be smooth sailing from here for the next few months. 

Quantas Flight to Sydney, Australia September 2018

I arrived at the baggage claim and saw that while my dive equipment was waiting for me, China had kept the one piece of luggage containing nearly all of my clothes.  Maybe the Chinese were confused that my clothes were not from the Trump line...  Or maybe it is the fact I had a mini key board and a bottle of American Whiskey (under X-ray I am sure it looked like an IED).  Jokes aside, I found out soon after, all the Chinese needed was an email with permission to search my luggage.  Thank you China for taking flight security seriously.  But that whiskey is all mine!  I have mates to share it with now that I am finally Down Under. Quantas apologized for the delay in luggage arrival and gave me an over night bag filled with PJs and basic hygiene items.  A friend of a friend  met me at the arrival area.  SIM card purchased.  Next stop: my first experience with Airbnb and two blocks from Coogee Beach.  

After over 24 hours of surviving primarily on adrenaline, coffee, and alcohol, I finally got my fat kid on (American slang for over eating).  I ventured out for some fish 'n chips about one block away from the shore where I was staying.  I was presented with various types of salt for my chips.  There are various types of salt here Down Under? (#fancy).  

And thus, the adventure Down Under finally begins, right? (#ironic #donewithhashtags)

*wee: urination, pee, piss or tinkle (thanks, Mom) 

*Ks: kilometers (as in distance)

~~~©Dustin J. Casey 2021~~~