Here is how we got from the Sofitel in Moorea to our home in King City: van from Sofitel to ferry port, treacherous ferry ride to Tahiti, van from Tahiti ferry port to Tahiti airport, plane from Tahiti to LAX, plane from LAX, driving our own sweet car home. The journey began at 4:30 pm on Tuesday and we were home about 23 hours later.

I say the ferry ride was treacherous, but it was only the non-Polynesians who suffered. The locals talked, ate, drank, while we tourists sweated, paled, prayed, and possibly barfed. If that happened it didn’t happen near me which I’m grateful for, because once someone starts the rest follow.

When we checked out of the resort they wanted to give us shell leis, which is a sweet touch, but we have heard those are very bad for the environment, so we refrained from taking them and the lei-giving man seemed confused and possibly even a little hurt. He explained that he couldn’t give us flower leis because we can’t bring them into the US. On our arrival into Tahiti, we were given wonderfully fragrant flower leis at the airport, and again at the resort. I kept them for the whole week even after they died because they still smelled so fabulous.

After our harrowing ferry ride, a van picked us up to take us to the airport. We were the last people to the van and saw that everyone had been given a shell lei. I said to Mary, “We need to take those,” having sussed that our refusals were probably rude. So we both allowed them to put the leis around our necks and then Mary surreptitiously left hers in the van and I left mine on a chair outside the airport. I hope someone found it and loves it.

We had no familiarity with the airport in Tahiti because we were whisked away so immediately upon arrival. I had read that it is not air conditioned, is unpleasant, and you should definitely buy access to the Air Tahiti Nui lounge. We sat for awhile outside the airport before we went in because the air was pleasant – no wind!! – and we were in no hurry to put our masks on. When we did go in we discovered the entire airport is open air. The sun goes down early in Tahiti so it was already dark and it was not muggy or hot at all.

There was an area marked International Terminal with cordoned off paths, like at TSA, and a security guard at the entrance. I went to the security guard to ask her what we were supposed to do and she said, “Go in there if you want,” and gestured towards the cordoned area and the people starting to line up. We did so and waited awhile. We were both tired and grouchy and I was hungry. (Poor Mary was still nauseous from the ferry.) Nothing happened other than more people starting to line up. I went back to the security guard, intending to ask her what exactly was going on, but before I could open my mouth she barked at me, “I don’t know how long you have to wait. It’ll open when it opens.” Clearly she’d been saying this over and over again.

“So I don’t need to be lined up here?” I asked. “I can go get something to eat?”

“Of course! Of course!” She said this like I was the only person with any sense and everyone else was complete idiots, although I imagine telling people there’s no need to line up might have been helpful. At this point Mary walked a few feet away and lay down on the floor and I went in search of food.

As I searched for food I kept passing the security guard and smiling at her and eventually she smiled back, which felt like a great accomplishment on my part, since for some reason I had decided that it was important that she like me. Once she smiled I figured we were friends, and I offered her my unopened bottle of water that I was going to have to throw away. She hesitated and I said, “Oh, of course you can’t take this. Sorry.” She nodded and probably rolled her eyes when I walked away. I think I was guilty of being that weird aggressively friendly person who just wears you out and makes you want to quit your job.

There were two foods I was really looking forward to in French Polynesia – quiche and coconut ice cream. Quiche was never on offer at our hotel or on our food tour, which I know I still need to write about. And the coconut ice cream at the resort was kinda boring. I had read that one of the food places at the airport had quiche. I eventually found that place. There was one piece of quiche in the case, which the woman in front of me in line took. I wandered around and looked for other food that might be good and found nothing. Eventually I went back to the quiche place and ordered a piece of pepperoni pizza and a “vegan salad.” When the woman showed me that the salad was a ton of quinoa with 4 alfalfa sprouts on top, I thought I didn’t need the pizza too, but she had already begun heating it, so I got both. There was a sign that said coco glace, which is French for coconut ice cream so since this was my last chance, I ordered that too. I was very surprised when she picked up a coconut, hacked the top off of it, balanced it in a paper cup and handed it to me. My dinner was nothing like I had hoped for, nor even what I thought I was ordering. But how often can you get a cold whole coconut to drink out of? I drained the entire thing. It was filling and delicious.

Eventually we got inside the international area and there was a lovely cordoned off outdoor area with chairs and couches, and all you had to do was buy a coke from the restaurant associated with it and you could be out there. Of course this restaurant had three different kinds of quiche but I was full at that point. Mary bought a coke and a bagel, which granted us entry. Because most people want to be indoors, Mary and I basically had the place to ourselves, each our own couch to lie on, until shortly before the flight started boarding, at which point too many people went to an adjacent cordoned off smoking area to get their last fix. I moved as far away from them as I could and put my mask on. (I constantly embarrass Mary with my responses to cigarette smoke.)

On the plane we got our two seats together and I proceeded to do what I did on the incoming flight – take my shoes off, put my wonderful Air Tahiti Nui socks on, cover my head with the blanket (which I fell in love with and really wanted to take off the plane with me) and . . .

On the incoming flight I had gone to sleep. On the flight home, with my beloved next to me, I was CONSTANTLY jostled and poked, and poked hard enough that each time I thought she was trying to tell me something, but she was just trying to get comfortable. She never did and I barely slept. So I believe “Be Careful What You Wish For” is an appropriate aphorism for that leg of the journey.

We got to LAX at 8:30 am, got our luggage pretty quickly, and then there was this mad dash to customs. Everyone seemed to be racing to get there so the competitor in me had to race too. It wasn’t a short race either. I’d say we race-walked for at least 10 minutes, maybe longer. Finally, there we were. We have Global Entry and walked up to the empty Global Entry kiosks and were out of customs three minutes later. I’m sure there’s a good aphorism for this too – “Be Careful What You Race For – There may be no point.”

We had to get from the international terminal to the Alaska Terminal, another very long walk. My cPap bag kept falling off my suitcase and I was in a fairly foul mood that had begun at the windy “private beach” in Moorea. As soon as I saw one of those bag carts that costs money to rent, I stuck my credit card in and piled all my bags onto the cart. $8 well spent!

At the Alaska Terminal, again all Mary wanted to do was lie down, having had no sleep. I told her we should go to the Alaska Lounge. Because we had bought first class tickets home, the lounge entry was a reduced $30 per person. I figured we would probably spend at least $35 on food outside the lounge and Mary would never find a place to lie down that wouldn’t eventually be filled with people and it was worth it to spend another $25 to be in an uncrowded place.

At the lounge I asked the attendant if Mary would be able to lie down somewhere and he said absolutely not. Then he took us to a corner booth, pulled a foot stool over and suggested to Mary that perhaps she could relax there – i.e. lie down in the booth and put her feet on the stool. I always enjoy people who tell me I can’t do something and then in coded language suggest exactly how to do what I’m not supposed to do. There were signs that said, “Do not lie on the furniture,” and all over the lounge there were people lying on the furniture.

Breakfast on the plane had been a “cheese omelet” and a small overcooked piece of broccoli. There was no cheese in the omelet. It was basically a folded over factory-made scrambled egg and I was unable to finish it. So I immediately headed to the Alaska lounge food bar, which was underwhelming, but I managed to pull together a pretty good breakfast of oatmeal, chia pudding, Greek yogurt, fruit, and an English muffin.

First class flights for both of us were about $200 more than economy and I decided to pay for that when we were planning the trip because I thought we would be pretty exhausted by that point. Boy was I right! We got into our first class seats, had our first class meals, and didn’t speak to each other the entire flight, which seemed interminable. It was a little less than 2 hours. Later we both mentioned that we felt like first class had been wasted on us because we usually enjoy it so much, but we were both fairly miserable. Of course it wasn’t wasted on us, because we would have been exponentially more miserable in economy.

We’ve been home a week now and are both still completely exhausted. Mary thinks maybe we’re too old for two red-eye flights within the space of 7 days. I’m not done writing yet. I still have to write about the food tour and share our final thoughts on the trip. I’ll try to get that done in the next few days.