How full: With capacity for 370 passengers, the plane appeared about 80 per cent full.
Entertainment: This plane had the old fit-out, tiny seat-back screens and armrest controls, rather than the newer, bigger touch screens. But never mind: the memorable sight of icebergs sparkling in the sun of the south Indian Ocean was better than any in-flight movie.
Food and drink: Given the choice between a cabernet from Australia's Barossa or South Africa's Winelands ... ah, who am I kidding? You just want to know what happened to my luggage.
Luggage: They lost it. Mine, and half a dozen other passengers'. Menzies Aviation, the Johannesburg baggage contractors at Oliver R Tambo International Airport, seemed unhurried and unconcerned. They asked me to write down my details, and told me to call back in the morning.
The morning after: Without even a change of underwear or a toothbrush in my carry-on, I made an early dash from my Jo'burg hotel to a neighbouring mall to buy a travel wardrobe: two pairs of chinos, three shirts, a slouch cap, shoes, socks, underwear - I was a walking advertisement for Country Road, if they ever decide to use jetlagged, unshaven, overweight models on their billboards. Then I hit the phone to the airport ...
Customer service: They had no idea. None at all. And they really didn't try to pretend otherwise. They couldn't even find the form I had filled in the previous evening, so they took down my details all over again. Despite having taken the number from the baggage tag, they couldn't say whether the bag was in Auckland, Sydney, Jo'burg or somewhere between.
The next day: In desperation, I tweeted my plight. Within just a couple of minutes, Aimee from @QantasAirways in Sydney tweeted back, asking me to send my details, offline. Two-and-a-half hours later, I put in a call to Qantas. They had good news: they had found my bag. The power of social media, eh? I flew out of Jo'burg again, carrying my makeshift wardrobe in a big paper shopping bag, bound for Capetown - and hopeful now. Hopeful, until Qantas called back a few hours later: the bag they had found was someone else's.
And the next day: After a day's sightseeing on the Cape, I got back to my hotel and my bag was waiting for me. I took to Twitter again: "It's been four days and four cities, but my #lostluggage has finally tracked me down to Cape Town. Thank you @QantasAirways, all is forgiven."
The return home: Un. Be. Liev. A. Ble. They lost my bag again, the same bag, at the same JBG-SYD-AKL transit desk.
The aftermath: Three weeks after they first lost my luggage, I was still trying to chase up the US$100 a night compensation they promised me for four nights without my baggage. It sounds a lot, but I was still smarting at the hundreds of rand I spent on checked boxer shorts and prepaid phone credit for calls to Qantas. This time, I was on hold for seven and half minutes before they cut me off. I called Qantas' Auckland number again, and someone answered after six and a half minutes on hold: "Auckland, that would be an international airport, wouldn't it?" Then the line went dead again ...
The culmination: Another two and a half weeks later, Qantas put $244.42 on my credit card as compo. It wasn't as much as they promised - but I couldn't be bothered kicking up a fuss anymore.
Would I fly this again? Well, obviously not - and neither will you. Qantas and South African Airways ended their codeshare on this flight a few months ago, and now Qantas operates the flight on its own.
Jonathan Milne travelled courtesy of South African Tourism.
