How do American’s tolerate such diabolic airlines? and what’s happening to our beloved Qantas?

We’ve had just the best group of people with us again this year, and despite the annoying ability of the US airlines to get in the way of peaceful and comfortable travel, everyone has experienced the adventure we find it to be, and had a great time with lots of travel tales to dine out on for at least 12 months.

With the help of 5 return travellers in this years group, we’ve laughed off the worst (well almost the worst) that they could throw at us, and enjoyed some great Country Music, fabulous sights, great weather (best for 25 years) and enjoyed getting to know some great new friends both in the group and new mates in the USA and met some of the headliners of today’s and tomorrow’s Country Charts.

Qantas, of all people, decide that there’s an oil cap that needs replacing in the Pratt & Whitney Engines. Now there seems to be plenty of oil caps for the GE engines (like on the 747 at the next gate), but none for ours, so after a wait on board then in the terminal, the flight is finally delayed by 3 hours, which puts us in jeopardy of missing our international connection in Sydney (where we’re to meet our NSW and Victorian companions). So in their wisdom and to our fearless tour leader’s relief, Qantas transfer us to the other airline, and get us heading south towards our international flight due out at 1:55 PM.

... Luggage? oh no! Well no, she politely informs us, they did not accept any luggage from Qantas.

Well, fearless leader, what now? Not to worry, if Qantas doesn’t manage to get it on one of the other flights scheduled to Sydney before our departure, our original plane when fixed should have enough time to deliver it in time.

Scene 2, International air terminal in Sydney. Now I thought I’d seen some airport messes in LA in 84, and Atlanta in 96, but Sydney at the moment, is right up there believe me.

Fortunately most of our Sydney passengers were experienced with our nonchalant kind of approach to airline travel and were not phased in the least to find fearless leader absent from the terminal as promised when they arrived, so they casually booked themselves onto the plane, and even our "newbies" managed to get our hasty messages and directions left with the Group Check In counter at Qantas, so that all went smoothly and everyone arrived safely at the departure gate. We even found our 4 passengers form Melbourne waiting, and polite introductions were made all ‘round.

A check at the departure gate brought confirmations from the attendant that the bags were almost certainly going to make the flight. So nothing to do but sit back and make the most of the 13 hour jaunt across the pacific.

LAX, same day, and a couple of hours before we had departed Sydney, here’s 13 passengers from Brisbane scratching around the carrousel wondering when our 22 pieces of luggage would come spewing off the conveyer belt for processing through customs so we could wend our weary way to the Sheraton for a refresh and relax before tomorrow’s onward journey to St Louis and Branson. Nothing turns up...

"Do you actually have the luggage receipts??" says Koni, our diminutive Qantas rep on the floor of LAX customs hall. "Yes, of course", says fearless leader, "here they are". "And do any of your bags actually have locks on them... ", "well yes". "So can you give us the combinations of the locks and keys so we can clear them through customs?" , "well I guess we’ll have to". "They usually put them on the next available flight, so we should see them on the 1 o’clock flight. You can ring us at 4 to see if they arrive".

With no bags to worry about at customs we whiz through in a flash and with our every patient companions from the other states waiting at the top of the ramp everyone shuttles around to the hotel and Rosie arranges the tours to Universal Studios and the City tour of LA and we settle back for the phone to ring. Sure enough a few hours down the line, just as everyone returns from their day trips, Qantas delivers the bags, and the Sheraton delivers them to the rooms. whew!.

So ended our first day on the road. Everyone where they should be, with everything with them, but oh so close.

Well it seems that somebody down the hall from their room last night had made such a racket enjoying themselves that the hotel management had rung them at 2am apologising for the disturbance, and advising them that a special gift certificate would be awaiting them in the morning to the value of $100 in compensation! Yes, another calls out, I heard that party. It kept us up too, but we didn’t get any gift certificates!

So we all wait to see what booty they may return with, but on arriving back to the group with nothing but a gloomy look, they report that neither the gift shop nor the hotel management know anything of the incident or the reported compensation, and that they had been hoaxed by the very people creating the disturbance in the first place! So after much commiseration, and a few smiling asides, we board the airport shuttle for the second day on the road.

Well after the drama and excitement of day one, day two had to go better... right?... wrong!

We transferred to LAX comfortably with time to spare and checked in at TWA in fine form. From past experience, this was a major head start to say the least, but what we didn’t realise at that time, was that it might have been better if we hadn’t!

Settling into the coffee shop and enjoying a cup of Starbucks and a bagel, we waited out the departure of an earlier flight to St Louis while our 9:15 departure rolled along. Just as well really as what was scheduled as breakfast refreshment on the flight eventuated as an American muffin, pot of apple sauce and coffee or beverage of choice. What we didn’t foresee and had no way of knowing, was the brewing storms around St Louis and I’m not thinking of more coffee. 3 hours into the flight the captain comes on the intercom and announces the bad weather, and possible delays to landing, then shortly returns to the microphone to announce our reassignment to land not at St Louis, but at Indianapolis, Indiana!

Finally we hit the air again, and arrive in what to many seem as similar weather conditions as the first time we overflew St Louis thankful to meet our long suffering local escort Miss Bill, and faithful coach driver Pat, wearing out shoe leather walking from gate to reassigned gate in search of their antipodean cargo now nearly 5 hours overdue!

So Lambert’s and their "throwed rolls" get tossed out the window as we depart the terminal with one eye on the roadside hoardings for food and nourishment exits after being in an aircraft for nearly 9 hours with only a muffin, a pot of apple sauce and the beverage of our choice to see us through! Half a mile down the road and Miss Bill is wandering the coach as she does, getting to know folks and renewing old acquaintances when eagle eyed fearless leader, Rosie and ever dependable Pat the driver lock onto a Cracker Barrel sign and we leave the interstate for some nourishing vitals.

As we completed the 180 degree turn around to enter the carpark Miss Bill comes gliding down the aisle as only she can and pronounces "look Pat there’s a Cracker Barrel, why don’t you just swing in there". Ever obedient, Pat does her bidding with a wry smile and pretty soon we’re into our first taste of Turnip Greens, and fried catfish. About an hour later it’s a much more content crew who head down the interstate for Springfield and Branson, finally turning into the Atrium Inn an hour or so after midnight.

Only half confident of his judgement, fearless leader says "It’s late, lets see if it turns up in someone’s room in the morning" and everyone heads to bed, except Lisa and David, who had diligently packed said bag less then 24 hours before. They settle down to some solid 1-800 phoning in the wee small hours trying to get the luggage detectives onto the case (so to speak).

It’s morning and as the rest of us preciously come into the breakfast area of the motel, making a start at emptying Sue’s specially ordered 2 gallon jars of full cream milk onto our cornflakes and Capt. Crunch, it’s obvious that the luggageless one’s will not be down for a while, as they had seemed to make some progress in the early hours and would be asleep for a little while yet..

The rest of us set out on the coach after a fine feed of cereals and English muffins to explore the new playground of Branson. A trip down to the Old Town with a visit to the Five & Dime store by most, and a visit to the barber for Fearless Leader, and its off up Route 76, Country Highway pointing out the theatres of Mickey Gilley, Andy Williams, where Boxcar Willie’s theatre was, the Award winning Country Tonight Show, Johnny Lee’s theatre and the every present shopping malls. As travellers check out program times and arrange for others to join them for matinee shows and evening shows, we settle back into the easygoing pace of this Ozark Mountain town.

On returning to the motel it’s revealed that sure enough TWA have located the bag and will arrange it’s delivery to the hotel. Not exactly delighted to leave it in the hands of the airline, D&L decide that expediency is the better part of getting your luggage back and decide to hire a car and drive back to Springfield to escort the wayward luggage to Branson themselves.

So with matinee shows on the go from 2 o’clock the coach pulls out onto Green Mountain Drive to deliver it’s Aussie payload to theatres around the town. Later in the day, after the matinees and back at the motel, we’re loading up for a visit to one of the never ending buffet queues but there’s still no sign of D&L who are presumably still somewhere on the road from Branson to Springfield, or Springfield to Branson, worryingly a trip of only about an hour. Where could they be?

"where y’all from?"
  "Orstralia" they cry
"Why I’ve just been down there and had a wonderful time"... 
"We know and we’re going to see you 
at the Gympie Muster in August"
"Well yes, that’s right"....

and on it goes, about as interesting to the rest of the audience as a dawg with a stick in its mouth. but gee we had fun, the night we held up the Pam Tillis show in Branson.

On the way home to the Atrium the coach was buzzing with discussion about the show.

Meanwhile, back at the Motel, we discover the wayward baggage hasn’t arrived yet, and neither has it’s owners. There was a phone call from them to say not to worry that they’re doing something else and not to wait up. Next morning it is revealed that they took a North exit instead of a South exit, and ended up somewhere they hadn’t planned on, but still had a great time visiting some caverns and enjoyed their side trip immensely.

When Pat pulled the coach into the Atrium that evening, the more sedate among us huddled around the ice cream bar at Frank and Sue’s.

Meanwhile a handful of the young at heart went across the road to the Showboat sports bar that Danny Davis does his lunchtime show at and christened it on our behalf. There are stories told in such places of a young man from South of the Border who accepted the hospitality a few of the local gals on this warm Branson evening and so the legend of "Neils on Wheels" was born.

So Day 3 ended, again, safe and sound, and full of "stops along the way". Especially for D&L who eventually made it home safely.

After a quite night before, at 9:30 they all presented with Butch and Cheryl at the show and sat enjoying the Brumley Family presentation of hits from the 50’s on through to the 90’s, when 5 or so minutes before intermission, drummer Todd Brumley (Tom’s son) announced how sorry they were that, because of a bad back, Tom had taken these three or so days off. Whaaattt! Oh no!

So half time rolls around and FL waltzes up to Todd who innocently was standing around meeting folks in the audience and said... "You know it’s just as well we’re really enjoying this show because otherwise you’d be in big trouble" ... well the story was told about the long wait to get there and the pedal steel player who came all the way from Australia to see the show with Tom in it etc etc. and we had a bit of a laugh at the bad fortune. Then just before the second half resumed and we had ourselves resumed our seating, Todd motioned us over to the side of stage.

Curiously we stumbled our way through the second row where we had proudly sat ourselves at 9:31, now full of wondering what this was. Were we about to be ejected!?! Todd said " listen dad’s just arrived out the back in the carpark. He’s just been to the chiropractor and he’s picking some things up on his way home. I told him about you guys and he said if you’d like to come out back he’d love to meet you". Well, what do you say except thanks, we’d love to meet him. So it was that we stood around the car and chatted for 20 minutes or so, about his work, steel guitars and our very own Aussie Steel guitar legend Noel Anstead who builds Steel Guitars of legendary quality and world renown right down the road from us in Brisbane.

Friday morning dawns with the gentle hum of the diesel and the not so gentle blast of the air-conditioner as we settle in for the coach trip to Memphis, and about time for the first "pottie break", out of the mist emerged the small town of Marshall on our way south through Arkansas. Again it delighted our Aussie hillbillies, and it continues to amuse many of our travellers on exploring the local store, to find the kids video section around the corner from the gun racks and fishing knives. More great slices of back-country humour on the bulletin board with hand written ads of "Coon dogs for sale" and such like.

Early next morning we all pour back on the bus and the conversation turns to the previous night’s activities but soon settles into the quiet hum of the Tennessee back roads through the turning green byways and the small town squares. It doesn’t seem very long before the David Crockett national park sign beams down from the roadside and another buffet beckons. This is not another franchised roadhouse we’re visiting here, this is the real down-home stuff, and sometimes things don’t turn out to be what they seem. Grits do look a bit like porridge, but they still get the big swerve. Chicken is chicken, and ham is ham, but when it comes to putting a topping on you apple cobbler, it pays to ask what is in the big jar sitting along side the apple cobbler tray that looks so much like custard.

Unfortunately fearless leader was too slow to pick this up and "Tale de Tour # 3" struck.

 From the dining rooms to the drug store and a quick stroll around the town square in Lawrenceburg, then onto one of our Small Town highlights. Long time friend of our Miss Bill is Mrs Mary Katherine "Punkin" McGee who for sometime now has joined us at the Park for lunch.  For the second year, she invited the whole bus load to visit in her home, a magnificent 3 storey southern home of some 17 rooms with an amazing collection of antiques and collectibles. She made home-made lemonade for us all, and her husband prepared a small gift packet of Tennessee and Lawrence County lapel pins and other items. Miss Bill later returned the complement by inviting the group to her home in Nashville which she and hubby Rex open each Christmas for charity. But back in Lawrenceburg the local newspaper reporter stopped by and took a photo of all these strange people visiting, and ran it on the front page of the Lawrence County Gazette their weekend newspaper.

   No time to waste as we reboarded for the trip to Lynchburg just up the way about an hour or so, and our guided tour of the Distillery at Jack Daniels.  More shopping in the Lynchburg town square and a chance for some Jack Daniel’s ice cream before the hilltop Hoedown at sunset with our very own bluegrass band and a feed of hush puppies and catfish,   a game of shuffleboard or horse shoes before a dance and a look at the lightening bugs on the lawn. Hillbilly heaven! Of course the bonus for Fearless leader is that Rosie always has her Birthday at Fan Fair Time, and Jack Daniels always makes her Birthday Party go better!

By special invitation, Sunday Night we all went down to the Exit Inn for a special showcase by Keith Urban, his first public show since the Ranch’s last performance supporting Brooks & Dunn in New York 12 months before to the day.

Keith put on a stellar display with Aussie Rod McCormack on banjo and acoustic guitar, ex Ranch bassist Gerry Flowers rejoining him, ace piano player Matt Rollings (who Keith’s currently recording with) and other Nashville luminaries as side men. He did a whole swag of his new material he’s hoping to have out on his new solo CD later this year. It was great to introduce our group to a number of other Aussie performers attending the showcase in Nashville this year, including Felicity and her sister Rebecca, and Gina Jeffreys (just finishing off a 3 week writing stay with husband Rod in Nashville),

Well, the crew just went everywhere from there. fan club parties, autograph hunting, record buying, boots buying, Fan Fair Shows, the Bluebird Cafe, Exit Inn shows, sightseeing and working the town over real good.

Monday morning just one last chance to pick up some Outlet bargains and some Southern Fried Chicken and off to Knoxville to end the official tour. There we left our new friend Michelle to catch up with old friends from her high school exchange days. Senka and Louisa left to chase down Dwight Yoakam in concert in Detroit. Ray, we left in St Louis with Steel Guitar legend Dewitt Scott, and the Colgans and the Laycocks sadly winged their way home. For the rest of us it was Viva Las Vegas!

The trip from Knoxsville to St Louis was fine, and even on time. St Louis airport again proved our nemesis. For an hour we stood in front of the check in counter with only 14 of the 18 travellers with seats on the plane. For those who have never experienced the American policy of selling seats on aircraft that they do not have to sell, well I can only say it’s not for the faint hearted. The details are much too gory to go into but the determination of FL finally won the day, and all 18 travellers took their seats on the flight that ended up delayed by half an hour because of the 19th century technology perpetuated by US airlines on boarding procedures.

The last attempt to balance the books on travellers and seats was a bid by the supervisor to get 3 passengers to relinquish their seats, to others waiting to board, by offering an upgrade to first class on the next available flight, a meal voucher to use while they waited for that flight and a free return trip to anywhere in continental USA or some group of Caribbean islands of your choice good for the next 12 months. She got her volunteers and we got Las Vegas.

Surely they couldn’t do too much on a half hour trip from Vegas to Los Angeles could they? Well, they didn’t actually. Delta got the bulk of us there pretty much on time and we checked in at LAX on schedule. Because of a whole bunch is US College football teams flying to Australia for a big 4^th of July showdown which created seat shortages on Qantas (now codesharing with both BA and American Airlines) we actually had our Qld passengers routed through Auckland to Brisbane, and our NSW and Vic travellers direct LAX to Sydney.

Funny thing is, Big Rosie had to fly out of Vegas half a day before us to get a flight back to Australia, and I was expecting her to come back to Brisbane airport in the morning to see us in, and when we finally arrive 3 hours late, it turns out that she was only in Brisbane half an hour before we were anyway because of more delayed flights out of Melbourne the night before, meaning an overnight in Sydney before they would fly her in to Brisbane the next morning.