"Took my chances on a big jet plane, never let them tell you that they're all the same."

I don't think I would ever describe a staff of professionals as cool. Attentive, yes. Helpful, definitely.  And maybe once or twice there's been a waiter that a table of us girls had fought over who would victoriously leave their number on a napkin for. But the only word that does the purple-accessory-wearing, collectively-good-looking , surprisingly-hip, wait-I-actually-wanna-be-friends-with-you-inducing Air New Zealand staff justice, and perhaps the only word that efficiently sums them up is just that: cool. Led Zeppelin knows what I'm talking about.

Upon our arrival into the plane we handed our ticket to a stewardess, who after checking it and with one of the most overwhelmingly genuine smiles I've ever received said "Right this way Miss. Shelton." Miss Shelton? I could get used to this.

So once in our assigned places, seat-belts fastened and prepared for take-off, our personal television monitors displayed a safety video. And we've all seen these monotonous things before that reinstate rules of common sense like it was Moses revealing the ten commandments. But not on Air New Zealand. Throw Richard Simmons in there urging us to " Lose the baggage, fasten your safety belt, take a breather and let's GO!" as he performs an aerobics routine in his signature short shorts, a stewardess demonstrating how to use the air contraption after bumping into a beautiful and unidentified rugby player (I don't blame her), and top it off with plenty of neon and disco music and you have yourself ANZ's take on it. Hard to imagine, so here's some help:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wgpYtJMQQjc

We basked in the glory of our leather reclining seats, personal TV's with remote, extensive selection of shows, movies, and music videos to watch; the perfect remedy for our recovery from possibly the most boring, bland and uncomfortable flight I had ever been on going from NY to California. Or perhaps  now I was just biased. Blame it on the rugby player.

 And then we really started living the good life once dinner rolled around. No longer were we bound to the confinements of the legal American drinking age and although at first we sheepishly smiled at the bottles of wine on the beverage cart, instead of being asked for ID we were asked red or white?

Thirteen hours of watching movies, sipping on wine, and napping in our reclining leather chairs lead the switch between country, hemisphere and day of the week fly by. Before I knew it I was woken up for breakfast and realized we only had about an hour to go before we started living the good life in Australia. But as I looked down at the mimosa I was casually sipping with breakfast, and looked around at the 28 others I was traveling with, about to embark on the journey of a lifetime I realized: I was already living it.