Is the international departures lounge in Fiji.  Hands down.  That is, if they're not clapped firmly over your ears.

Someone in Fiji airport has decided that you are, or wish to become, hearing impaired.  Moreover, they feel that this transition should be done to an endless loop of (for us at least) Perfect Strangers reruns.  Oh, Bronson Pinchot, what did I ever do to you?

This morning marks that point in our flight to New Zealand two years ago where we'd braved the Dulles and Fort Worth airports, lived through the transition from regional to International at LAX (with all of our luggage, don't you think they didn't try). And had completed the longest leg of our trip across the Pacific with wonderful Air Singapore.  We landed in Fiji at 5 am, with accompaniment by ukulele.

Flying long distance on airline miles meant a lot of stopovers, and a couple of long ones.  We could have hopped an airport van for a quick tour of the island.  But we figured on banking a few hours of good sleep - between the two of us, we'd probably totaled 8-10 hours for the past two days.  She'd slept like the baby she was in the bassinet I'd booked 7 months earlier.  But she was looking ready for more, and we had retreived our stroller so that she could nap.

Balki and his friends had different ideas.  The TV in the international lounge flicked on at 5:15 am, local time, and didn't quiet or shut off.  Ever.  The  coffee shop (pretty darn good) just below the TV opened at 6.  The local crafts store at 7.  With the local crafts store came their own dedicated stereo system, carefully tuned to try to outdo the TV.

By the time the flight to Auckland (our shortest at 2 hours, 15 minutes) boarded, we were so wired we could have flown there without a plane.