Travel: Part One

"I can't believe it.  In 20 years of doing this job, I have never run into this!"

Thus spake the ticket agent at the US Airways check-in counter in Phoenix.


I waited for the bad news.

 Part of the budget set for us by AGWM was to cover costs associated with travel across the world.  As Missionary Associates we were allotted a lump sum for excess baggage but not allowed to utilize shipping containers.  Based on this amount we checked with our carrier to estimate costs and figure out how much of our junk we were going to bring with us.  Everything from Air Pacific’s website stated we would pay $7 per kilo (yes.  We are having to get used to kilos and litres.) with 2 “free” bags per passenger.

I felt like mentioning again that we were missionaries with a small and incredibly cute baby traveling to islands most people in the U.S. have never heard of.

“There will be no charge.”

“Come again?”

“Yeah…I know.  I clarified with the agent at Air Pacific three times.  There will be no charge.  The representative stated you are allowed an unlimited amount of baggage as long as each piece does not exceed 50 lbs (23 kilos).”

“Seriously?!”

“Seriously.”

“Alright then.” I stated. “Let’s weigh these bags.”

Our extra efforts back in Prescott paid off.  All of our awkward juggling of footlockers while standing atop Merissa’s mother’s bathroom scale was worth every twisted ankle.  Each piece weighed at the check-in counter was within 1lb of the maximum allowable weight.  We were in for FREEEEEEE!!!!  (this, “FREEEEE” needs to be read with a childlike high-pitched “Wheeeeee, ‘I’m flying’” kind of thing)

The ticketing agent finished up our check in process, tagged our 15 bags for travel to Fiji, handed us an impressive stack of baggage stubs, and sent us on with her congratulations for out new adventure.

Merissa’s dad, step-mom, sisters, brother and brother-in-law accompanied us up the escalator into the main area of Terminal 4.  We all sat and chatted attempting to ignore the fact that this would be the last time we would be around each other for 24months.  We had a lot of fun watching Ethan and Ella invent fun ways to navigate the different patterns in the flooring tiles.

“Don’t worry,” I choked out during my goodbye hug to Mer’s dad.  “I’ll take good care of her.”

It’s been interesting.  This new endeavor has been something Merissa and I are both 100% committed to. It has been a unifier and a huge source of fulfilled dreams and the Lord’s promises.  But, I truly feel the weight of my role as head of the household.  Never before have I sensed such a need to be a strong leader, husband, father, spiritual grand poobah.  OK, maybe not a “poobah” per se.  You get the idea, though.
I really see the Lord growing me in this area—and it freaks me out.  
Finishing up teary goodbyes, the whole group walked the remaining 15’ to the TSA check point.

Fortunately Phoenix TSA runs a tight ship and we did not have the awkward transition of waiting, moving a bit, looking behind at family, waving/ blowing kisses, waiting more, then repeating the whole cycle.

Within moments we were out of sight of our relatives and on to the screening process.

Ethan and Ella both had lots of questions about the whys and wherefores of each machine, bell, whistle, chirp, etc.  Ethan has recently taken on some sort of worry about every electronic noise he hears.  He is convinced that each “bing” indicates some catastrophe.  So many of these noises just fade into the background of our lives that I really had not realized just how saturated our environments are!  Mer and I reassured him there was no danger of fire, earthquake, tornado, nor any other apocalyptic type event.  Each of us came through without incident.  I do feel a bit odd though, taking off and putting my belt on.  Due to the fact that I am built like a pole and, therefore, have no hips or buttocks, I feel a bit like Dick VanDyke dancing with the penguins in Mary Poppins.  As I move through the metal detector I have to keep widening my stance as my pants/ shorts begin their inevitable downward journey.  By the time I reach the end of the x-ray conveyer belt  I am more waddling than walking.

We boarded and arrived in LAX without much adventure—the way I prefer airline travel to be.

Whilst (yes, “Whilst”) in LAX we let the kids have one last meal of Mc-E-D’s.  Mer and I found a place with good Mexican food—sure to be our last for two years.

We were very surprised at the TSA checkpoint to find fewer lanes than in Sky Harbor.  This was, afterall, the international departures terminal at one of the world’s largest airports.  The line wasn’t nearly as painful as we thought it would be but we were thankful the kids had already experienced the routine.  Ethan and Ella both handled it like seasoned travelers!

Our 747-400 did not depart until 11:30pm so we tried to get the kids a bit of shut-eye near the boarding area.  Ella was able to fall asleep but Ethan was much too excited about all the hustle and bustle.

I am happy to report that there is nothing to report about the flight to Fiji.  Ethan, Ella, and Daniel slept really well—almost eight hours!  Merissa and I slept most of that time and certainly got more sleep than we expected to.   We were seated behind a bulkhead which meant Sweet-Baby-D had a bassinet to doze in.

Now in Nadi, Fiji, we deplaned and headed toward Customs/ Immigration.  Standing in line, we were right in front of another family of five traveling with a little baby.  Merissa brought up how we were pleasantly surprised by the amount of sleep we got and gave partial credit to having  a  bassinet.

“Really?,” the woman said.  “We would have loved a bassinet.  We actually requested bulkhead seating but didn’t get it.”

“Did I say, “bassinet,”?!  I meant castanet!  Daniel sure loved his CASTANET!  Plays with ‘em all the time!  Drives me nuts but, hey, who I am to criticize a happy baby? Oooohh…”

Wisely, Merissa did not tell the woman there were seats in our row with access to bassinet hangers occupied by people without small children.

“I can assist you with your papers over here where the line is shorter,” stated a customs representative who’s timing could not have been better.

“Fantastic!”

Now, traveling in grueling enough.  Add to that the stresses of moving.  Add to that the stress of leaving everything you know.   Why in the world did we think we could manage 15 pieces of luggage on top of all that!!!!

We were certainly a spectacle.  As our luggage and footlockers came into sight, I started a pile and Merissa grabbed some carts.  Some = 5.  I nodded and gave the ol’ two finger brim-o-the-hat style salute as people gestured to their travel companions to gawk at the crazies.   Not only did we have to grab our luggage and wrangle it over to the exit, we had to do it twice!  Each piece has to be taken through x-ray at a customs checkpoint which is 50 yards away from baggage claim.  Because we are still in a secure area, our friends who came to pick us up could not lend any aid.  I was sooooo proud of Ethan and Ella.  They followed commands with military precision and did not play the usual game of 20 questions.   Once people employed by the airport saw our predicament they came to our rescue.   Once through customs we were assisted to the exit where we met our Area Directors, Karen and Jerry Jacob.

We spent the next 24 hours with the Jacobs and got some really good advice and tips of how to tackle our time in Vanuatu—everything from cultural differences to certain hygiene issues we could encounter.

“How prone are you to skin fungus?,” Karen asked in passing.

This may not have been an odd question for someone who has lived in the South Pacific for 30 years but for a couple from Arizona—where 14% RH is considered a muggy day—she might have well asked us how our last trip to the moon went.

One of the highlights was going to the local outdoor market.  Karen guided Merissa to different tables and explained what different vegetables were and how to prepare them.  I was holding Daniel at the time and was an instant star because of it.

Before we left Prescott a good friend of the family, Layne, had shared with us a word the Lord had given her.  Part of this was regarding Daniel and that he, more than the other kids, would open all kinds of doors for us in ministry.  The truth of this prophetic word was highly evident in this market.  Men and women alike stopped what they were doing and came to coo at Daniel.  His chubby cheeks and pudgy thighs were especially irresistible.  Talk about his age, name and weight would quickly turn to why we were in Fiji with such a small one—a perfect way to open up discussion about our desire to follow Christ’s directive to, “go into all the world.”  I was especially struck by the men.  They were just as  oogly-googly as the women.  As men would pass on the street the would light up and grab his little toes.  Something else that struck me was the interest that was taken in Daniel’s well being.  He had recently cut himself on the bridge of his nose with his fingernail.

“What happened?,” inquired an Indian vendor (Fiji has a large Indian population).

“Oh, this?  He nicked himself with his fingernail,” I replied.

“Yes.  I see they are too sharp and you should cut them”

“Actually we did cut them yesterday after it happened.”

“No.  See this?  Right here on his thumb? Too sharp.  You need to take care of it.”

“I will.”  

Yowzers.

Fiji was an nation of great contrast.  The area we were mainly in was very much like any third world country with dogs running amuck, trash littering the streets, and poorly maintained roads.  When we went to dinner at a nice sea-side restaurant that night it was in a district which was very western.  So western, in fact, that it could have been San Diego for all we knew!