What Do These Aussies Know That We Don’t?

My flight from Adelaide back to Sydney this morning, a bit over two hours long, was again on Qantas … which, by the way, I’ve learned is an acronym for Queensland And Northern Territory Air Service … which explains why there is no “U”. (That has always bothered me.)

At any rate, when arranging for a wake-up call with the front desk at the hotel last night, I asked how long it would take to get to the airport.

“About 15 minutes,” said the young lady at Reception.

Then, trying to figure out what time the wake-up call should be, I said, “So allowing an hour for packing and a bite of breakfast, 15 minutes for the taxi, and 90 minutes for check-in …”

“Thirty minutes for check-in,” said the young lady.

Huh? Half-an-hour for check-in? Oh, yes, she assured me, thirty minutes for check-in is plenty of time to allow.

Of course, as a veteran traveler, I didn’t buy that and this morning I arrived at the airport just after 8:00 for the 9:30 departure. Oh, me of little faith! I was checked-in, through security, and cooling my heels at the gate by 8:25.

Yo, TSA … check it out!