Aloha Again - Aug 13, '00
As long as the company is going to require me to take the laptop along on my vacation, I might as well write long, boring emails as we wing our way west. Today's journey got off to an early start with reveille being at 0415 hours. Actually that was rather rough on Sharon, an interminable and unapologetic night person, who thinks of that time-of-day as bedtime rather than as rising time. Of course just to set the tone for the day, the Super Shuttle driver got lost and arrived late; none-the-less we managed to arrive at the airport, sans breakfast, with plenty of time to spare.
Once checked in and ushered through security, I was duly dispatch to fetch the eye opening café Mocha, normally a remedial task that I can handle with ease. Not this morning. Spotting the vendor's cart I sallied forth on my mission, filling my own cup of no-name java, and placing the order for the required Mocha. Then I notice the line - several people having completed their transactions of ordering, paying-up and now waiting for their brew. As I waited for my order to rise to the top of the queue, another couple entered the field and paid for an identical order, an ominous opportunity for conflict. Sure enough as I reached out to receive my order, the woman's hand snaked out to snatch my prize. I have utter disdain for crashers of any kind and I vowed not to give any gentlemanly quarter to this elitist claim-jumper. Civility is dead. Fortunately, being slightly taller and longer of reach, I was able to maneuver the treasure just enough to limit her grasp on the bounty - I was in control. Finally the middle-aged hag recognized the inevitable and resigned from the field while satisfying her blood-lust with a damning retort, condemning me as an "old fart", as though I needed a reminder.
The first leg of our outbound flight was on United - PHX to LAX. For days I have fretted over the possibility of our vacation being cancelled before it started by some United pilot's one-day flu, so there was a great deal of relief as we boarded the plane. Naturally, I asked the welcoming stewardess at the plane's entrance to thank the pilots for showing up. From the length of the blank look, it took her a short time to catch on. From my window seat, I could not avoid looking down upon the desolate Mojave as we flew over; Bob G. is still not far from my thoughts. Then as we disembarked at the end of this short but crucial jaunt, I spied one of the flight crew standing at the flight-deck door talking to a stewardess, as they always do, so I took the opportunity to personally thank him for showing up. More blank stares - these people need to lighten-up.
Arriving at LAX, still sans breakfast, we found that we needed to transfer to a different terminal for the next leg of our journey to paradise. Old age is beginning to wear away my pride - being somewhat unsure, I actually asked for instructions, not once but twice! Turns out that we had to catch the inter-terminal shuttle, which had pulled out just as we arrived - not to worry, the sign says that they run every 10 minutes - right! If we could have seen the other terminal, we would have known that we could have walked to it quicker. New airline, new check-in and more security - all safely navigated - finally a chance for breakfast. After a couple of over priced fast-food breakfasts, we jaunted jubilantly down the jet-way when it was our turn to board; finally we were departing the mainland -everything is right in life.
A rapidly depleting battery prevents me relaying a wave by wave account of our progress across the eastern half of the Pacific. Suffice to say that the toddler ensconced with her mother in the seat behind mine, managed to kick my seat-back synchronously with each seventh wave crest on the ocean below us; taking timeouts only for a couple of ten minute naps and several marathon temper tantrums. As I sat there being pummeled by this future World Wrestling Federation misfit, it occurred to me that a multitude of toddlers only survive to become preschoolers because the windows of airplanes cannot be opened.
You have to understand that in Hawaii, things are, to be polite, different. Our flight from LAX to Kona was on Hawaiian Airlines and included a stop on Maui. We should have expected something Hawaiian would have to happen before we could reach our destination - it did. After a boring one hour lay over in the Maui concourse, we were re-boarded for the twenty minute continuation of our flight. The plane pushed back from the gate normally; it turned and proceeded up the taxiway normally; the cabin crew walked up and down the aisles, counting normally but then Hawaiian struck. The cabin crew returned, walking rapidly up and down the aisles pointing and counting; the plane stopped in the middle of the taxiway; the cabin crew frantically sped up and down the aisles (in twos) counting, pointing and comparing notes. Finally they let us in on their little problem, the head count on-board did not agree with the tally at the gate, so we had to return to the gate in order for the gate attendant could make the count for herself. Slowly the plane returned to the gate and the counting process resumed again, and again, and again. After an eternity the flight crew of 13 and an untold number of gate attendants finally agreed on the number of souls on board so we finally were able to depart the Valley Isle for the Big Isle, arriving more than an hour late.
Having taken an earlier plane than ours, Natalie and Mori were waiting for us with leis. They had been told that our plane had landed on-time so they had carefully searched the small airport for us. Evidently much of their search was centered in areas where Mai Tais are available. The rest of the first day of our vacation was spent going through the obligatory routines of getting a car, shopping for essentials at Costco, checking in at the resort and finally dining at Roussel's. Eat your hearts out Mike and Daryl, the Shrimp Creole was beyond description.
Upon reflection, today has re-affirmed my conviction that the worst day on vacation is far superior to the best day at work.
Haole Rog and Haole Sharon