The saying “Getting there is half the fun” applies only to travel when you stop along the way for random exploration, such as eating coconut ice cream off the Hana Road en route to the black sand beaches.
Four flights, totaling twenty-four hours, only makes the destination all the more desirable.
On my Atlanta to San Francisco leg, my seatmate sprayed me with spit upon talking. My headphones and fake sleeping didn’t stop him from talking to me either. I’m considered talkative, but he rendered me a mute.
The San Francisco to Auckland flight rewarded me with an improved seatmate, an Aussie woman who provided countless tips for my late February Sydney trip. But thirteen hours in one seat just isn’t comfortable, despite Air New Zealand's relatively spacious seating.
Arriving in Christchurch, New Zealand to sunny skies and 75 degrees Fahrenheit weather made me quickly forget my stiff legs and slight headache. I’ll gladly put up with twenty-four hours in the air for this city, which proves lovely already.
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