At the departure gate it was chaos. The Air NZ staff were doing their best to create order out of mayhem and the lead man, Gavin, deserves a medal for his coolness.
Departure time had ticked by and we were going nowhere for a while - our plane hadn't arrived from Tauranga yet.
The Hamilton-bound aircraft outside on the tarmac was moving in the wind, its wings proving just how flexible they were, much to everyone's discomfort.
An announcement came over the system with something I had never heard before. The Hamilton flight would be delayed until they could get the airport firetrucks into position to form a wind break so people could board.
Soon afterwards came a voice saying they were not able to open the cargo doors for safety reasons.
Eventually everything was in place and the Hamiltonians were free to head out on to the tarmac.
The friendly voice was now tinged with a warning as it said: "Hold on to your loose clothing and glasses on top of your head."
Then: "Small or frail people please ask to hold on to someone as you go on to the tarmac."
OMG. That is serious wind and when the door opened we feel just how strong it really was. And it was a crosswind, the evil kind for take-offs and landings.
We silently wished them all well and hoped the winds would drop before it was our turn.
That looked dubious as our transport still hadn't landed yet.
Imagine then our surprise when the next announcement was to tell us that Flight 8570 to Tauranga had left from Gate 19.
Um. Hello? We are at Gate 7.
Don't panic, said imperturbable Gavin, someone hit the wrong button. It's still on the way.
Whew, sighed the 50 would-be passengers of the Bombardier aircraft.
An hour late, we finally made it on to the plane via the more sheltered Gate 19.
We strapped in, listened more avidly than usual to the safety instructions and settled in for our homeward journey in the darkened cabin.
Blue lights began to move rapidly out the window and as the engines powered up we could feel the increase in velocity as we hurtled down the runway.
Lift-off was actually quite smooth - considering the conditions - but the crosswind still needed to be fought.
As we speared into the turbulent skies, the city's lights underneath blinked a fond farewell to us and I think everyone on board began to breathe more freely.
That's when my lady - a hugely experienced and good flier - pulled her fingers out of my thigh. I'm sure I still have the bruises.
Settling back we looked forward to landing at Tauranga, have a 20-minute drive home and be sitting on the couch watching a taped Geelong game by 10pm. Brilliant.
WUMMMPPPPPPP!
The plane shuddered and took a big drop as we hit some hole in the air.
Screams echoed, although I can report I sat stoically silent with a manly bearing. Any worries were well hidden by a passive exterior (and the darkness in the cabin).
Funny thing was I looked up the instant we dropped and saw several people ahead of me lift out of their seats. Fortunately everyone had their belts on and so no harm was done.
My stomach was somewhere near the bottom of Wellington harbour while the rest of me was zooming up and over the Rimutakas.
A deathly silence filled the plane as everyone awaited more shakes, bumps and drops.
It was very uncomfortable. All I can say is that thank God there wasn't a nun with a guitar on board or I would have been very worried indeed.
When the turbulence eased there was a bout of nervous laughter from many. Others remained silent.
About 20 minutes later, I asked the stewardess just how far we dropped and she said she'd ask the pilots.
She came back with a rather interesting answer.
According to the pilots, she informed us, there hadn't been a drop at all. It was something like water going over a rock and we skipped the wave.
I didn't get it either and it must be said that I didn't believe a word of it. I guess it is an airline's way of reducing the number of "incidents" they may have to report.
Mind you, if there are any pilots out there who would like to enlighten me then I'm all ears.
And glad to be back home.
Richard Moore is an award-winning Western Bay journalist and photographer.
Richard@richardmoore.com
