Layovers are boring, unless it's in Fiji

From top to bottom: This is the WRONG ticket counter, January 2nd; the view from my Air Pacific flight at 4 am over the Pacific Ocean on January 4th; the Fiji islands from my airplane window at 4:30 am on January 4th; the countryside surrounding Nadi International Airport, January 4th; Gerald, the friendly Fijian flight attendant who taught me basic fijian words.

Full gallery on Flickr

"You're not on this flight," said the young lady at the ticket counter. "Did you print a boarding pass?"
"No."
"Well, you're not on this flight," she said.
Now one hour and 41 minutes before my supposed departure from Los Angeles, and I don't have a flight. Thumbing through my passport, she typed my name and smiled.
"Ah, you're now on Air Pacific, terminal three."

Sprinting down the sidewalk, backpack over my back, another bag over my head, I nearly knocked over a cart and a small child to make it to the Air Pacific counter. Filled with Chinese, Indian and Korean travelers, I easily shouted my way through the crowd and pushed past everyone with my height. The german woman at the counter seems skeptical of me, the sweat dripping down my face and the bag she says is too big.
I quickly reorganize my belongings to her satisfaction, and with one hour and five minutes remaining, she said "do you have your departure ticket from New Zealand?"
"Yes, but it's online."
"I need a printed copy. There's a printing station down two levels on the other side of this terminal. You have ten minutes."

This time, I did knock someone over, but I made it on my flight to Fiji.