Getting Here...

Getting to American Samoa is no small feat. About 24 hours of travel and 3 plane rides is what it took. Let's start with the travel arrangements...

Having your new job buy your plane ticket to paradise sounds like it would be an awesome bonus, right? Wrong. You see, in order to travel on the goverment's dime, you need to go through a travel agent, who will keep renewing the reservation for the 12 years that it takes the American Samoan government to process a travel authorization. What's that you say...a travel agent? Who knew that in today's world of internet access, web-based fares, and online check-in that these mythical creatures still existed? Well they do, and in American Samoa the one that was "recommended" was J & J Travel. Now, you didn't think I would actually be able to go through a travel agent back in Colorado, did you? Silly rabbit. You also are probably imagining this "travel agent" to be a knowledgable professional in the travel industry, right? Someone who knows the business, what to do, what not to do, and can help answer your questions and prepare for your trip, right? Well, let's just say that despite no less than 30 phone calls and emails to this travel agent, I NEVER got a copy of my own itinerary. That's right...I said never. But for Lisa being able to track down a copy of my itinerary at the Attorney General's office, I wouldn't even have known what time to show up to the airport. I guess I was lucky in that I got my ticket about a week before I was due to fly out, which is quite early considering Lisa didn't get her ticket until 2 days before she was scheduled to leave. And when I say I "got" my ticket, I mean Lisa told me that it was paid for by the AG's Office. Good times.

Now here's where the travel agent's experience and professionalism paid off...Luckily, because Lisa tracked down the itinerary sent to the AG's office, I knew that my first flight left Denver at 7:00 am. I had been up since about 3:00am to get to the airport from Conifer in time. When I went to check in at the Frontier counter, because I was flying on multiple airlines and wasn't provided with all of my flight numbers and information needed to get me all the way to Pago Pago, the gate agent could only check me in through Honolulu since they couldn't access Hawaiian Airlines database to get my flight info from Honolulu to Pago Pago. I was told that I would have to pick up my bags in Hawaii and re-check them to Pago Pago. So that's what I did.

The flight from Denver to San Diego was about 2 and 1/2 hours; the one from San Diego to Honolulu just under 6. After I picked up my bags, re-checked them and went back through security, I sat down in a little restaurant in the Honolulu airport to grab a bite to eat since I had a few hours to kill before my last flight to Pago Pago. As I sat there eating my chicken ceasar salad and watching all the travelers coming and going from their tropical vacations, it hit me...I was picking up my entire life, leaving my friends and family behind and MOVING TO AN ISLAND THE SIZE OF A POSTAGE STAMP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE PACIFIC OCEAN!!! What in the hell was I doing?!? Was I insane? Had I not thought this through? I started to have a bit of a panic attack. This wasn't just a little trip to Hawaii for some fun in the sun and sand. This was for 2 years! For 2 years I would be half-way around the world, away from everyone I know and love. Just then, my cell phone rang...it was Lisa calling to tell me she would be there at the airport to pick me up tonight. Man, it was good to hear a familiar voice and know that she would be there when I arrived in this strange new place. So I stopped, took a breath, remembered why I was doing this and headed down to the gate to wait for my plane.

I slept for most of the flight from Hawaii to Pago Pago (it's about a 5 and 1/2 hour flight for those keeping score). And when I finally stepped off the plane, the heat and humidity hit me like a brick wall. I certainly wasn't in Kansas anymore. We exited down those portable staircases they push up to airplanes and walked outside toward the airport. Now let me back up for a minute and describe the "airport". It's basically a runway with a holding area on site. There is a building that I guess you'd call the terminal, but I use that word loosely. As you enter, there are a few booths that you go through for immigration. They ask you about the purpose of your visit (if you're there for business or pleasure), give you another customs form to fill out, and stamp your passport. Then you move forward another 20 feet or so and you're in the baggage area. There is one conveyor belt similar to what you may have seen back in the States, only here, the electrical outlet that this belt plugs into is hanging from a pipe full of wires about 6 feet off the ground over the belt itself. And the wires look like they've been pulled out of the pipe by vandals. Now, where you are probably used to seeing a small opening covered by vinyl or plastic flaps through which the luggage would magically appear at a normal airport, here, there is another mini-conveyor belt on the back of a truck that drives into the "terminal" and parks next to the big conveyor belt. A second truck carrying luggage carts then drives up to the open end of the conveyor belt and a couple of very big Samoan men turn on the conveyor belts (after about 30 minutes of trying to figure out what was wrong with the power to the big belt--here's a hint, maybe it has something to do with the exposed wires) and start unloading the luggage. Did I mention that the mini-belt runs on some sort of diesel fuel that had we not had a 20 foot section of wall missing, may have caused many-a-passenger to pass out? The baggage phase of my journey was almost as long as my Denver-San Diego flight. Maybe it had something to do with the 5000 pieces of luggage they had to unload from the airplane. You see, when traveling to and from American Samoa, you don't travel light. I myself, had 2 checked bags and 2 carry-on's (well, 1 carry-on and 1 personal item--a tote bag), but I was moving there for 2 years! I should also preface this by saying that when Samoan's travel, they travel with like 15 family members and each group has close to 75 pieces of luggage. And it's not the kind of luggage you're used to seeing at American airports. I saw no less than 45 giant duct-taped coolers come off that conveyor belt. No idea what was in them or why there were so many. There are alot of things here in American Samoa that you just learn to say, "ok, cool" about, and this is one of them.

Although my flight arrived on the island at about 9:30pm (2:30am Denver time), I didn't get out of the "terminal" until after 11:00 pm. Once I had my bags, I made my way to customs (another 15 feet off of the baggage area), gave my form to a customs officer, and walked outside to a sea of people waiting to pick folks up from the flight. You see, flights only arrive and depart on the island from Hawaii on Thursday's and Sunday's, so it's a big deal. And on the day that I arrived, several people in our social circle here had folks flying in. Some were just visiting, others were new people (like me) arriving to start their contracts, still others yet were returning from a trip off-island. Hot, sweaty, and exhausted, I came around the corner to see Lisa standing there with a beautiful boquet of flowers. She grabbed 2 of my bags and we headed out to the parking lot where Shitbuggy was waiting to drive us home. Sidebar--Shitbuggy is the name we affectionately use to refer to one of our office cars that had the sun roof left open on it one day and the rain destroyed the center console leaving behind the permanent, yet fragrant smell of mildew. It was a beautiful Nissan Mirano when first purchased, and now it's Shitbuggy. But enough about that. Lisa then drove us the whole 3 minutes from the airport to her house (which is just across the street from mine) where we chatted for a bit before I crashed for the night in her air-conditioned spare room. Aaaahhhhhh air conditioning...