I sipped my diet coke while watching a fellow passenger try to shoo a crab out of the baggage claim area. His wife cheered him on as he finally herded the annoyed crustacean back into the ocean.
Just another day at the airport in French Polynesia...
Air Tahiti (domestic) and Air Tahiti Nui (international) were new airlines to us.
Our international flights were long but comfortable. The flight attendants were quite friendly and accessible early in the flight then dimmed the lights and left us alone for the majority of the trip so those who wanted to sleep could do so relatively undisturbed. We appreciated the packets of ear plugs and eye covers plus the pillows and blankets. We were flying the least expensive economy class and were pleasantly surprised to be offered little amenities like this — along with free meals and free drinks.
The domestic flights were far less comfortable. Propeller planes with hard seats fly frequently between islands. But most flights are under an hour so the discomfort wasn’t that big a deal.
We were surprised that the domestic flights were so casual. Our flight from Bora Bora to Moorea felt a lot like the charter planes I used to fly on to Grand Prairie or Fort St. John for work a lifetime ago. Tickets were handed out by the hotel and we arrived, by boat, half an hour before the flight departed. There was no assigned seating on the plane — flight attendants directed us a little to balance the weight, but mostly we just wandered in and found our own seat.
All very laid back which was quite nice, really.
Flights are frequently delayed an hour or two mostly due to weather, it seemed. But we could walk along the dock and watch the fish plus they provided a free sandwich and a drink to every passenger delayed.
Darren wandered back to the table after checking the status of our delayed flight whistling softly. He sat beside me, glancing back toward the crab rodeo still unfolding in the tiny airport.
“Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?” he asked, dimples forming beside his smile and I realized the tune he’d been whistling was the theme song from “Spongbob Squarepants”.
Disclaimer: As always, my opinions are my own. Airlines don’t provide me with business class upgrades or provide Darren with extra cookies (*wink*) for my articles. No one involved is ever even aware I’m doing it.
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