Kia Ora - Kiwi travel nightmares!

I took Friday off work (except a breakfast meeting) so I could finish packing my bike and run through my laminated version of *ye olde triathlon pack list* at least twenty times. Super Shuttle arrived slightly early at 4:10pm (7:30pm flight) but I was all set to go so it was no big deal. The other passengers in the van were anxious about the voluminous Friday night traffic so I told the driver that I could be dropped off last. We pulled into the SFO international terminal at 5pm. Plenty of time. I joined the Air NZ line to check in and it was quickly my turn. I was asked for my ticket.
"Ticket? Isn't it an electronic ticket? I used United miles."
"Ma'am, you were mailed a ticket."
"Well, I did receive a receipt in the mail but then I changed the dates and I never received a new ticket."
"You need to go check with the United counter. Please do so and then come back to us".
Thankfully, she allowed me to leave my luggage. The United counter was close by and there were only two people ahead of me in line. It was now 5:20pm. Suddenly, a herd of folks rushed into the terminal, pushed to the front of the line and breathlessly squawked about the 6pm flight to Sydney. The two agents dropped everything they were doing for the customers in line and assisted the Aussies, ticketing and checking their baggage. At 5:35pm I moved to the front of the line, explaining my situation to the first agent.
"Ma,am, you need to pay taxes - $17.24."
Uh, oh I thought I'd paid taxes online but maybe it was a booking fee. No big deal. I handed over my credit card. The agent swiped the card, tapped at the keyboard and gave me a perplexed look. She asked for a phone number from her co-worker and dialled the united help desk. "The customer needs a paper ticket", was the helpline response. "The only other alternative is to buy another ticket". The agent called over her co-worker, explained the situation and he concurred with the helpline feedback. He also pointed out, somewhat unhelpfullly, that there were seats on the flight and I could buy a new ticket for five grand! Of course there are seats on the plane - there's my goddamn seat! "Ma,am I suggest you go home and get your receipt/ticket".
It was now 5:45pm. I went back to Air NZ and picked up my luggage and updated the Air NZ agent on the situation. Her parting words: "Be back here by 6:45pm". I hauled ass out of the terminal, which is less than 3 mph when you're dragging a bike box and a wheelie. No taxis in sight but there were a whole host of "shared vans". I yelled out San Francisco and a guy got out of his van and began to assist me. "I'm chartering you. We're going to Nob Hill and back and if we make it back by 6:45pm, I'll give you a huge tip". "Uh-oh, deal", he said. I jumped in and the clock in the van read 5:52pm.
The van lurched away from the terminal curbside as the driver yelled at me to buckle up and relax. My mind raced. I drive to and from SFO in 20mins all the time... just never at 6pm on a Friday. My driver (whose name I never asked - sorry!) did more weaving than you'd see at a basket-making convention. 70mph. Nice. Past the newly named Monster stadium. We were cruising. Then...my stomach sank as we came over the hill by Potrero Ave. We hit the wall of red lights...I knew it would be there but I'd been in denial. Bay Bridge traffic spilling over all five lanes. I moved to the
edge of my seat and anxiously wailed to the driver. "Honey, just sit back and let me do my th'ang", he cautioned. He yanked the wheel to the right as a handful of consternated commuters hit their horns hard. We exited onto Potrero and traffic was moving. We hit a few red lights but we were making more progress than on 101. We crossed Market and I saw 9th street. Great, a straight shot up to Larkin and then I'm back home. The door to the van was open and I was jumping to the sidewalk as we screeched to a stop in front of Sushi Rock. It was 6:17pm. The elevator in my building takes 50 seconds to reach the 3rd floor (why do I know that?) so I took the stairs, grabbing the rail and pulling myself up 3 steps at a time. I was back in the van w/ ticket in hand at 6:19pm. I was clearly anxious and my driver reiterated that I needed to stay calm, buckle up and sit back. We wove through downtown traffic, retracing our steps along Potrero and were back on 101 by 6:30pm. I was beginning to feel more confident and sensing this my driver started to ask me questions. Where I was going? Why? I spinned my triathlon yarn and the highlight of that conversation was that he guessed I was 26. Yay! Maybe, he was angling for an even biGGer tip. I pulled out a wad of 20s, explaining that I was giving him the fare plus 100% tip. Then I walked him through the plan for arrival at SFO. Yes, I'm at my A-type best in panic situations! I was going to run to the check-in desk and I was tasking him to follow me with the bike box and wheelie. We hit the airport off-ramp at 6:40pm and I was back in line at 6:41pm. I triumphantly waved my ticket at the same Air NZ agent, whooping with delight that I'd made it. The driver followed, dragging my luggage behind.
"You are late. The flight is already boarding," 'tsked the gate agent. "Your luggage may not make the flight. You also have to get through security". I scanned the terminal which was practically empty, I couldn't begin to conceive that security was going to be more than a 5 minute chore. I prosecuted my case, saying that I'd go straight through security and sprint to the plane. The agent reluctantly took my passport and ticket, while calling over a baggage handler to *express* the lugagge in the direction of Air NZ 007. I hugged the newly enriched van driver goodbye and
told him that I was fine and that I was getting on the plane. I breezed through security, sped-walked to gate 96 only to join the 300+ passengers lining up to board the 747. I had soooo made it! I settled into seat 26K, separated by a seat from a very pleasant woman called Nancy who turned out to be Chris Lieto's next door neighbor, knew nothing about triathlon but gave me a supply of "energen-c" for my trip. Random.

Anyway, *kia ora" is welcome in Maori. I arrived and it's 7:30am and the rental car place does not open until 8am...bummer. So I'm sitting here with a cup of coffee w/ skim milk, otherwise known as a "flat white".

10 reasons a morning ride is so rewarding

1. I only need to wash my hair once a day (unless of course I'm running/swimming in the evening - life of a would-be triathlete)
2. I can make a date in the evening without compromising my training schedule
3. The thrill I get every time I ride across the Golden Gate bridge because it's a different color every time
4. The chance that the sunrise might be stunning, or at least pretty good
5. Prime-time wildlife viewing
6. Morning dew
7. No guilt when I scoff down my usual fruit, yoghurt as well as a toasted bagel plus a large chai latte for breakfast
8. Bragging rights at the office (after I've snuck in at 9:15am, hoping no-one noticed my tardiness)
9. Climbing off my bike at the front door, steaming and heroic. Fingers and toes are cold but the shower awaits...
10. Seeing myself as hardcore in other people's eyes
It's better than dragging your bum to the pool for a morning swim! ;-)