It seemed like a natural that my second blog, PingWi-Fi.com, would take on a corporate sponsor. My first blog garnered $2 million in publicity for the sponsor (in three months). But … this time, the corporate sponsorship didn’t happen. So, to keep this PingThing going, I had to find a way to “moonlight.”
What job could keep me on the road to blog about Wi-Fi and keep me on schedule for my next feeding? Ha! Racking my brain, I even talked to Starbucks about a job as a traveling barista. I had heard that my coffee-crafting friends often do shifts at other Bux shops when they travel. Starbucks failed to see the endless possibilities.
Then I recalled some friends of mine who work in the disaster recovery industry. They are “on-call” until something bad happens. Then they hit the road. “Why not?,” I asked. So, I began my side career — often referred to on this blog as my “Dirty Gig” — following and cleaning up in the aftermath of floods, fires and yes even earthquakes.
Until recently, many of my friends scoffed at the idea. It is a bit different than my communications background. And frankly, I too have had my moments of doubt about the decision. Yes, I have seen some U.S. cities from the wastewater up — pinged their Wi-Fi and sampled their local culture. But, I am away from the PingWi-Fi.com world headquarters for months at a time.
Sometimes a good idea reveals itself gradually.
Like the other day, when the phone rang and my colleague asked if I could leave for New Zealand the next day. I knew I had selected the right job to sustain my blog.
“Uh … Let’s see … travel to one of the most beautiful places on earth … about as far as one can go from Texas … hmmm … Sure, I suppose I can do that.” I jest … I almost hyperventilated …
This “Dirty Gig” assignment would be to fly to the land of the Kiwi, to assist in the cleanup after their recent earthquake, in Christchurch, New Zealand very near the epicenter.
I packed my bags with work clothes and an arsenal of electronics — HP laptop, Apple iPad, Canon digital videocam, microphones, Kodak digital camera, an M-Audio digital audio recorder, etc. — and my steel-toe work boots. (More on steel toes later …)
Excited is not sufficient. But it is the word that comes to mind. From that moment on, for the next three weeks, I had this tune and lyric stuck in my mind — from a Counting Crows song … something about “down in New Zealand” … more on that later.
Excitement … except for the part about the long, long flight to the other side of the world. The first leg, three hours to LAX — piece of cake, especially now that American Airlines has added Wi-Fi … after all, seeking out all things wireless is still my prime objective.
Get this! American crammed me into the middle seat — all 6-3, 210 pounds of me — for three hours without Wi-Fi! I have never awarded a negative score on my scale of 1-7 pings Wi-Fi review, but I considered it. Good thing I was still ecstatic about my destination. And, I felt pretty confident that Air New Zealand would make up for the AA no Wi-Fi oversight.
Bad day, mate!
The 12+ hour flight to Auckland, NZ also lacked a Wi-Fi hotspot. That was quite the bummer, but still the thrill of zeal kept the dream alive. I mean … I won’t lie, it was like waterboarding torture at 40,000 feet — once again cramped into coach seating, pitting my old football and basketball injuries against too little space among too many seats per square inch of the packed flight. Oh well … travel tough or go home. Ibuprofen and I became good friends.
After three partial in-flight movies, some “me vs. the computer” backgammon on the iPad, a fairly decent meal or two, and about an hour of shut eye … I am told we could see the North Island of New Zealand out the window, just 5-6 seats to my right. (The North Island, in the indigenous Maori tongue is “Te Ika a Māui,” fyi.) I took the captain’s word for it that he could see land, because I felt the tires skid on the runway. After a short wait, we boarded a connecting flight on Air New Zealand to Christchurch on the South Island a.k.a “Te Wai Pounamu ” … a 1.5 hour skip over the Tasman Sea and parts of both islands. (The two islands are only about 12 miles or 20 kilometers apart.) Collectively, the two islands are known as “Aotearoa” in the native tongue.
Once on New Zealand soil, I wouldn’t have to deal with customs until I grabbed my bags in Christchurch. Several of my disaster buddies — did I mention there were about 10 of us traveling together? — went through customs in Auckland.
All of us had been given a slip of paper in the air, asking us to declare any little surprises we might be bringing into the country. In my mind, it was cut and dry — no drugs, no weapons, no weird plant life and no meat products in my bags. I sailed through the form and didn’t think about it much.
Ha … not so fast American!
Yes, I was pulled out of the line and questioned because of the contents of my bags. It seems I had neglected to declare my work boots. I neglected, but the X-ray detected. LOL, I mean … who would know? This was my first time to fly internationally carrying my steel toes. This was a no-no. At first, I assumed it was a work/visa kind of issue. But no. It seems I didn’t read all of the stipulations on the declaration form. The issue was dirt. I was supposed to declare my boots so they could be inspected for trace amounts of mud or dirt. As you probably know, being an agricultural based island nation, New Zealand is extremely careful about foreign ag products … and dirt.
Well it just so happens that I had recently attended the Oldham Country Roundup in Vega, Texas as well as camped at the PingWind Farm west of Vega, Texas and I was in fact carrying some sizeable samples of the Oldham County soil on my work boots and my hiking boots as well. Hey … I had to pack really quickly.
They were pissed! (Normally I don’t use such harsh language, but here it applies. Note — this is the really mad “pissed” and not the drunken, soccer hooligan “pissed.”)
You know how when someone is really mad and the veins in their neck bulge, and you expect a stroke? That’s the way the guy looked, as I participated in my first conversation on New Zealand soil. He was a little man, with a big, dark beard. Most noticeable, his cigarette breath was atrocious as he got in my face about my stinky old boots. No doubt, he had been blowing smoke in the face of other travelers, behind closed doors, as he interrogated them about what they were going to do with the dirt they smuggled into the country. I felt like confessing to anything … anything to get the dude to try a Mento.
I pleaded ignorance — not too difficult to do in my case — and he started to back off a bit. In all honesty, I had read over the first few line items on my declaration form very carefully. After that, convinced that I was not a bio-terrorist or drug smuggler, I sort of checked “no” on all of the little boxes … even the one about harboring any dirty boots.
My bad.
My new Kiwi friend began to breathe a little easier, and he told me that he should have levied the full $400 fine, but that he was going to let me off with a stiff (and breathy) warning. No, I didn’t interrupt him to ask if that was $400 U.S. or New Zealand dollars … there is a significant variance in the exchange rate. I let it be. He gave me a warning … pretty much threw my newly sanitized boots back at me and sent me on my way.
In summary, I now have a little travel memento — a formal, written warning on the letterhead of the New Zealand Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry … or the Te Manatu Ahuwhenua, Ngaherehere as some call it … that I have been found to be in violation of the Biosecurity Act of 1993.
Dang it. I hate it when that happens.
In all seriousness … I totally understand protecting the environment and appreciate the warning. New Zealand is not only an agrarian economy, it is said to have the purist drinking water on the planet …
After that welcome to New Zealand … no worries … until we picked up our rental car, which of course has the steering wheel on the opposite side of the car. Oh … we exchanged some currency at the airport too, to get the best rate. And off we went … somewhat on the wrong side of the road, but making progress.
Know what I sayin?
(More New Zealand blogs to come …)
