BetA Get an ETA

CHAOTIC: Chaos tends to follow Viv and Vance around when they travel. Viv tells Justine Tyerman about their latest drama which occurred when they attempted to leave New Zealand and enter Australia without an ETA.

WE ARE among many who depart Gizzy by air but I doubt that any have had a similar experience to ours en route to Australia last month.

When our dear friend, Floyd, arrived on time to pick us up for the airport, little did he know the chaos that was about to ensue. In the usual mad dash to get to the airport, we leapt into his car leaving our limited supply of brain cells behind, as tardy people do.

I had left the house, unknowingly, with no make-up, a dismal fact I became aware of when I lowered the mirrored sun visor to block the sun.

“No worries, I’ll apply it now in the car,” I consoled myself.

But as I started to search for my mascara, it dawned on me that my make-up was conveniently locked in my very large suitcase in the boot.

“OK, I’ll revert to plan B. When we get to the airport, I will simply unlock my luggage at check-in, pull out my make-up and apply it while the Air New Zealand attendant checks us in,” I resolved.

Upon arriving at the check-in counter, much to Vance’s chagrin and irritation, I unlocked my case and retrieved my mascara, while a line formed behind us.

Eureka! With mascara in hand, thinking Vance could handle the rest of the check-in, I was about to pop into the bathroom. But to our horror and shock, we were told we were not allowed entry into Australia.

“Us, are you kidding me? We’ve never even been to Australia. How could they possibly not like us already?” was my immediate thought.

Perhaps this was the check-in attendant’s sense of humour? After all, tomorrow was April Fools’ Day. She could be a funny girl celebrating early, right?

The attendant shifted her focus to the line behind us that was getting longer. I abruptly tapped my mascara wand on the counter to regain her attention but it slipped from my hand and toppled over to her side of the counter.

“This can’t possibly be true! Please check again!” I insisted, loudly.

She checked again and repeated her previous statement. She told us an ETA was mandatory for us to enter Australia and even if we tried to get one now, we would not make our flight.

“Excuse me!” I exclaimed even louder.

Not understanding the true definition of an ETA, I assumed it was short for “estimated time of arrival”.

So I replied, “Isn’t the ETA apparent in our itinerary I have printed on my E-ticket right here?” waving it in front of her.

“We arrive at 5pm, look, it says so right here in black and white,” I said proudly, thinking to myself, “At least I know our ETA, this agent must be missing a few marbles.”

After numerous exchanges of questions and hysterics (some by me), it was determined we had neglected to file an Electronic Travel Authority (ETA) with Australia, a form allowing US citizens (that’s us) entry to their home. Kiwis are not required to get an ETA but “foreigners” are.

“What the . . . ?” I shouted. By this time the line behind us was starting to resemble a boa constrictor.

Vance suggested I stand aside and asked her in the politest possible way (on behalf of two people who had spent ludicrous sums of money on numerous reservations, and who had never been known to travel well together in the past), “Can Air New Zealand please resolve this issue for us? Perhaps we could speak to your supervisor?”

At that suggestion, she disappeared.

Phoning AustraliaIn the meantime, dear Floyd took it upon himself to go online with his phone to source an ETA form from Australia.

As well-meaning as Floyd’s gesture was, his fingers were still fumbling with the keys when our lovely check-in girl bounced back to the counter in the nick of time, just as the final boarding call was announced.

With new-found energy and a willingness to assist, she proudly informed us that an agent at the Air New Zealand counter in Wellington would be awaiting our arrival. We should see her immediately after retrieving our bags and she would input our ETAs to Australia on our behalf, for a nominal fee of $30. Perfect.

When we arrived at Wellington Airport, our bags took their time of course; there was a queue at the small Air New Zealand counter of course; and our flight to Brisbane was boarding shortly, of course.

The Air New Zealand agent greeted us cheerily, until we disclosed our mission. Because our flight booking details would be deleted off her screen in 10 minutes, she began breathing heavily with small intermittent groans. She was Scottish and we could barely understand a word she said, other than it was going to be a nearly impossible task to get the ETAs in such a short time-frame.

Not only did she have to enter all our passport details in separate requests, she had to wait for Australia to reply to each one individually, and all this had to happen in less than 10 minutes!

After entering Vance’s information from his passport, she heaved a heavy sigh and said, “Vance’s entry is denied and this is not looking good.”

“Why is he denied, for heavens sake? It’s not like we are terrorists?” I screamed.

Vance told me to calm down and to not even mouth such words in an airport.

Working against the clock she said, “Well, let me at least enter Vivian’s details before the screen goes down.”

Accepted!I, Viv, was immediately accepted. Yes! I’m going to Brisbane, but Vance is not. Oh well.

She immediately re-entered Vance’s details and Yes! We now have two, two in our group of two, who are going to Brisbane. This is great, we thought.

Whoops, not exactly. The printer was refusing to print Vance’s acceptance, which was a problem as we were flying Virgin Australia and needed written proof at their check-in counter that we were trusted travellers.

She breathed a heavy sigh and yelled “Run!”

With the heaviest allowable suitcases in tow, we chased after her to the Virgin Australia desk so that she could personally inform their agent that although there was no written proof that Vance was accepted, she witnessed it on her screen and they will just have to take her word for it.

The VA agent told her that he had to personally locate both acceptances on ETA website, and could not issue us our boarding passes based on her word alone.

Both agents argued back and forth, as time ticked away.

The VA agent searched for Vance’s ETA acceptance and exclaimed, “Well, it does look like Vance is approved. However, Vivian is being denied access to Australia.”

“What the . . . . ?”, I screamed, a tad louder than last time.

Our Air New Zealand agent is ready to burst into a fit of rage as well. She tells him bluntly, “That’s impossible!” and waves my written acceptance in his face.

At that moment, I realised we had a pitbull representing us and I could step back and just let her handle it.

Faced with her relentless demands, he kept re-entering my passport details with continued denials, until finally he typed one last entry, which included my magical middle name. By the way, our pitbull had originally entered the name as it is stated very clearly on my passport.

I kissed her. She was completely frazzled by the incident and walked away, shaking her head, more than likely, happy to be rid of us all. Vance and I looked numbly at one another.

“Run, the plane is boarding,” yelled the VA attendant.

Yes, the plane was boarding. But there just happened to be a lovely little bar literally within five steps of the gate. If we waited until the last possible second, when our names would be announced over the intercom system, we would have time for a quick shot of vodka to soothe our nerves.

“This is the final call for Vance and Vivian, your aircraft is about to depart.”

It was then I remembered my mascara.

“Did you grab my mascara from behind the counter at Gizzy Airport?” I asked Vance pleadingly.

“Please tell me you did?”