An Alien in America, Part 1: The Journey.

Of course, I got more than I bargained for when told that the sole AUT student going to the University of North Florida was myself, but then realised that this could only be a boon for my self-confidence later on.

So for the next few weeks, I will bring readers an honest appraisal of my experiences, giving kudos to those who earn it, as well as downright contempt to those who deserve it. The name of this series comes from the US government's euphemism for "a foreigner who isn't as good as us and therefore deserves a derogative label" - as found on my visa application. At first, I was affronted when referred to an extraterrestrial, but then realised that it provided some brilliant alliteration for the title.

Part 1 focuses on the journey itself, with a massive 12 hour flight to Los Angeles, California, where I'll spend the next few days with my cousins, before heading off to Florida. While I'm not exactly a flying-virgin (having been to Sydney once), this will be the first time that I have flown such a long distance, not to mention flying by myself.

Let this feature be a guide for future exchange students, as well as entertainment for those seasoned travellers who will no doubt laugh at my naivety.

3:15pm, 16 August 2008, Mt. Roskill, Auckland: You know the feeling when you think you've forgotten something? Well, when you're packing for four months away that feeling gets pretty unbearable. I've spent the last hour rechecking my luggage, as well as peering through my wardrobe and drawers, just to ensure I won't have to mutter an obscenity when I realise I've forgotten something. After repeating the procedure several times, I remember that the US has buildings which sell various commodities for suitable remuneration, commonly known as "shops". I head to our car, signalling the start of the longest time I will have been away from home.

3:30pm, State Highway 20: Auckland has given me a typical send-off, with a chilly mixture of showers and sunshine - all during the one trip. Escaping the insufferable New Zealand winter is a definite bonus for this exchange.

3:45pm, Auckland International Airport (AIA): It's relatively quiet at the airport, with short queues at the check in desks. I head over to the Qantas section to surrender my luggage and receive my boarding pass. Gazing forlornly at my suitcase as the conveyer belt takes it away, I wonder if I'll ever see my baggage again.

4:45pm: After an hour of inspecting over-priced souvenirs, it's time to say goodbye to family and head to the security area. Over the past few days, I had been wondering how the goodbye would go, or more correctly, how emotional it'll be. My Mum, with glazed eyes, gives me a hug, and for the first time in years, I give her a kiss on the cheek. Shockingly, my Dad ignores my offer of a hand shake and follows my Mum's lead instead - also a first in years. More reserved however, is my younger brother, whom I notice is decidedly blasé about the whole thing. Turning away, I feel a pang of guilt, realising that my parents will miss me more than I'll miss them.

4:48pm: New Zealand Customs, AIA: My carry-on backpack goes through the x-ray machine as I go through the metal detector. *Beep*. Damn, curse my manly belt buckle. I'm subjected to a woman wielding a hand-held metal detector, before heading off to the departure gate.

5:00pm, Gate 2 lounge, AIA: I look around at the people whom I'm to spend the next 12 hours with. The following thought strikes me: What would happen if our plane crashes on a mysterious tropical island and everyone on board became embroiled in a massive conspiracy? Frantically, I search for the virile spinal surgeon whose skills include tumour removal, firearms operation, and hair-growth suppression, but can only spot the fat guy who would end up hoarding all the snacks.

5:55pm: After nearly an hour of carefully avoiding eye-contact with fellow passengers, the speaker announces that we can finally board, with small children and their families first, followed by Business Class and then Economy. We also learn that flights to the US are subjected to a random bag search during boarding. As we walk down the thing connecting the plane to the building (what's it called, a Jetway? A passenger boarding bridge?) a guy in front of me is pulled to the side. Sucker...

6:00pm, Qantas Airways Flight QF25: A blanket, cushion and a pair of headphones are there to greet me as I arrive at my window seat. It'll be great for sightseeing, but I'm a bit worried that I'll piss off the person sitting next to me if I have to get up often.

6:18pm: As the plane starts to meanders backwards, the captain announces that everyone has been seated, while the seat next to me remains empty. Sweet, double the leg room! My delight is punctuated by the screaming child in the centre aisle to my right, who - ominously - hasn't stopped crying since I sat down.

6:20pm: Time for the obligatory fingers-crossed that-you'll-never-need-this-information safety instructions. I barely pay attention as I'm transfixed by the hostess' dance moves as she points to the various exits with two fingers.

6:32pm: No matter how much you fly, I'm pretty sure there's nothing quite like the adrenaline that starts to flow as the plane picks up speed for the take off. Stephanie (the screaming child - as I overheard during her mother's futile attempts to console her) can still be heard amidst the roar of the engines.

6:42pm: We're in the air now, as the captain informs us that "congregating in groups near the lavatory" is prohibited.

7:00pm: I'm thoroughly impressed at the entertainment on offer. There are movies, TV shows, CDs and video games - all on the little headrest monitor in front of me and available with a press of the remote. I'm overwhelmed by the CD selection - everything from Justin Timberlake to Muse. However, the audio experience is diminished as the engine noise muffles pretty much everything except the vocals.

8:20pm: Dinnertime - consisting of fish and pasta. I read that alcohol should be moderated on flights; being a diuretic and making you lose more water than you drink. Nevertheless, it'll be my last opportunity for months, as I'm currently at the tender age of 20 - one year under the legal age. "I'll have a red wine please."

8:50pm: I probably downed it a bit too fast, seeing as how I'm actually entertained by "Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay".

12:30am, 17 August 2008: It's halfway through the flight, and so far it's been a blast. That screen in front of me is a God-send, keeping me entertained with Family Guy episodes, Iron Man and CSI. However, my ears are taking a beating due to the loud volumes (it has to be up to hear over the engines), so I decide it's time for some sleep. Despite having double the leg-room though, it's still incredibly hard to get into a comfortable position. I end up going for the pillow-between-the-seats approach

2:00am: Someone screams - waking me up. Panicking, I expect to see the plane in a nose-dive but am relieved (kind of) to discover that Stephy has woken up from her slumber. She eventually calms down while watching a children's show. Bless that little screen - is there any problem you can't solve?

4:00am: Deja Vu, as a shriek sends my eyelids open. Little Stephy's at it again. I feel sorry for her mother, as her daughter has no-doubt woken the entire cabin for a second time. Stephy's wails can still be heard emanating from the bathroom where her mother takes her to - impressive.

4:30am: Breakfast - consisting of Ham Frittata and sausage. The meals on this trip have been adequate, although not great. The portions could have been larger, but I guess it's the same for all flights. There have been snacks throughout the flight though, consisting of crackers, pretzels and museli bars to ensure we don't get hungry. Good job, Qantas. It's a pity you're Australian.

6:40am: The plane has been descending for about 30 minutes now. After seeing nothing but cloud beneath us since take-off, we're treated to a spectacular view of the streets and buildings in LA.

7:00am, Los Angeles International Airport (LAX): The plane lands, followed by plenty of yawning and stretching from the passengers. Praise must be given to Qantas for excellent customer service, as well as superb in-flight entertainment, although I have to question some of their documentary selections - are titles like "My Big Breasts and Me" and "My Penis and Everyone Else's" really appropriate for children?

7:15am: We leave the plane and - incredulously - get to walk on the tarmac as we squeeze into an overcrowded bus that takes us to Customs and Baggage Collection.

7:20am, US Customs and Boarder Protection, LAX. The bus drops us off and we merge with passengers from other flights heading towards the same destination. A tip: find someone from your flight and follow them as your bags will be at the same place. The ultimate goal here is to grab your bags as quickly as possible and get the hell out of there.

7:30am: Waiting in the queue at Customs, I observe that all these officers look like cops - replete with navy-blue shirts, a badge and a hard-ass attitude. This leads me to conclude that all Customs officials are police-rejects. Non-sequiturs aside, there is something even more troubling, as one of the officers is wearing a rubber glove.

7:50am: Standing in front of the queue now, I'm terrified that I'll make an inappropriate joke and get arrested, especially as I've been told that sarcasm - as a result of my accent - does not go down well here. The officer calls me forward and I walk (perhaps a little too quickly) up to the counter, where I hand over my documents and the officer takes my fingerprints. As it turns out, the first American I meet on this trip is perfectly polite, while I probably come off as curt, having used as few words as possible.

7:05am: Luggage carousel, LAX: I'm glad I followed my Dad's advice by tying a bright ribbon to my luggage, as I spot it quickly when it revolves to my direction. Reunited with my suitcase, I follow the signs, expecting to have my luggage inspected and to set off more metal detectors.

7:06am: Arrivals terminal, LAX: As we head down a corridor, someone tells us to turn left if we are jumping on another flight and to walk straight ahead if we're not. As I comply with the latter instruction, I'm stunned to hear someone shouting my name. Looking around, I spot my cousins waving at me up ahead. What the hell, how did they get in here? Glancing to my left, I see the aforementioned baggage inspectors and metal detectors, before realising that I was free to go. It turns out they're only for people transferring to other flights.

7:07am: Still reeling from the lack of security, I greet my welcoming party and wonder if all air-travel is this enjoyable. With two more flights before I reach Florida, I certainly hope they go as smoothly as this one. Granted, it was a bit of an anticlimax in the end, but perhaps the best trip is an uneventful one.