Who in their right mind chooses a midnight flight? We’re usually in bed by 9 p.m. What were the chances we’d actually stay awake… and not miss our flight?
Mike had strict instructions: I was having a pre-flight nap, and under no circumstances was he allowed to fall asleep. He followed his orders like a pro, and we made it to the gate in plenty of time.
Our flight from Auckland to Singapore was slightly late boarding, so all we wanted was to get on board, close our eyes, and go to sleep. But we couldn’t miss the meal, could we? Of course not. So we stayed awake, thinking it’d be any minute. Turns out, that minute was 2 a.m. Was it worth it? Hard to say. But we powered through, stuffed our faces, and then zonked out for a solid six hours, waking up just in time for breakfast before landing.
Flying into Singapore was so easy. I’d been a little worried about the 2-hour layover. There’s always the chance of a delay on the first leg causing us to miss our second flight, but it was a breeze. In Singapore, there is no need to go through immigration like in the U.S., and the whole process is so much easier.
Then came the 14-hour flight to London. This one was a bit of a drag. They had very little in the way of movies or TV series. I did watch one movie I’d never heard of called Whiplash. It was about a talented young jazz drummer at one of New York’s best music schools. Well worth a watch if you ever come across it.
Both flights were extremely smooth—no turbulence.
The weird thing about Singapore Airlines is they fed us breakfast early on in the flight, then brought us dinner in the middle of the flight—seven hours before landing! And then… nothing. No snack, no dessert, just an announcement to say we’d be landing soon.
Landing at Heathrow was a breeze. We flew straight in with no holding pattern, just a smooth descent right to the gate! ‘I bet Nick’s working,’ I said to Mike. He was!
We arrived to a bright, sunny day and a perfect 22°C. When we got to Europcar, they hit us with the classic upsell. The sales lady informed us that our rental was a compact, but for just £30 more per day, we could upgrade to a much bigger and much better BMW.
We struggle to make decisions at the best of times. Add jetlag after a long-haul flight, and we’re basically two confused zombies just nodding at anything that sounds vaguely helpful.
But not today! We knew this game, and this time, we were ready. Although the idea of a nicer, larger car that was automatic rather than manual sounded appealing, nope! We were determined not to be railroaded into spending more money than we needed to. So we did the sensible thing: we asked to see both cars. Like detectives. Tired, jet-lagged detectives in sneakers.
Turns out, the Skoda was the same size as the BMW – maybe even a smidge taller. So that settled it. No need for a wanker’s badge, and we’d have indicators that work! We would not be paying extra.
The one thing we thought we had sorted before we arrived was insurance. We’d agreed back in NZ, in our pre-jetlagged state, that we would not fall for the extra coverage trap. Our travel insurance had it covered. We were firm. Unshakeable. We smiled politely, stood our ground, and confidently told her we didn’t need it.
Fast forward five minutes: there we are, walking out, shaking our heads. Somehow, we’ve ended up with extra insurance. Again. Honestly, it’s like magic. Expensive, sneaky magic.
So we loaded up our Skoda, excited to finally be here. Mike put it into gear and lurched away with his clunky gear changes, obviously not used to driving a manual. I was starting to wish we had paid extra for the automatic. Trying not to vomit, we made it to the motorway and it was smooth sailing down to Bournemouth.
We arrived at Em’s place expecting to be greeted by over-enthusiastic grandkids excited to see us. But they were nowhere to be seen. As we placed our backpacks down, I heard Em trying to coax them out of their rooms. About five minutes later, they reluctantly left their devices to come say hello, before quickly scurrying back to their rooms. Teenagers! (Yes, they are teenagers as young as eight these days.)
After washing off the plane gunk and having a yummy spag bol that Em’s had cooked us, we felt almost human again, thankful that the long travel day was finally over.
