The hard part is getting there...

When we still lived in Texas, my brother and I went with my parents to Hawaii. Actually, we met them here as they were already here for a longer trip. The flight was about 8 hours, and as became the slogan for the trip, a "domestic flight" (said in an appropriately snotty tone of voice). My brother, used to the joys of Air France with effectively a baguette chef in the hold, was constantly appalled at the lack of amenities: no sleep masks, mediocre food, no in-seat personal entertainment, etc. The in-flight movie was in fact Big Momma's House. Plus the old woman in front of us decided to read the entire time, which meant when the rest of the flight shut down for 'nighttime' sleep, she had her damn reading light glaring at us the whole time. Plus it was an antiquated plane and we were lucky enough to be on it’s last voyage before retirement so you can imagine it wasn’t in tip-top shape. As this was before I moved to Seattle, Todd moved to New York, and I started keeping a LiveJournal, I'm afraid my dear reader there is no immediate account to reference for the rest of the trip. It was quite memorable and now that I'm back in Hawaii, bits of it are coming back to me.

Starting with the "domestic flight". First, thanks to the magic of government bureaucracy, cuddlyeconomist and I had to take separate flights here. We had booked Delta for me after waiting until the 21 day advance ticket window was closing, and assumed since it was the contract carrier and there was only one flight that day that we’d be on the same flight. Alas, no, she flew on Hawaiian air. So we both got up at 5am this morning, went to the airport, and boarded different flights leaving 15 minutes apart. We’ll, I should say scheduled 15 minutes apart. My flight ended up being an hour late thanks to some mechanical issue that required opening the main cabin door after we were all settled in and ready, and then fog procedures resulting in a long taxi and takeoff queue. I had been sitting in my seat for over an hour by the time we were actually airborne. No leg room, a man who was probably a football player 20 years ago sitting in the middle seat next to my aisle seat, no food service (well, they did have the boxes-of-salt for sale which was apparently more than Margo’s flight could manage), an intermittently squalling baby a few seats behind me, and the in-flight entertainment consisted of them showing an Eddie Murphy film, Imagine That. Twice. The same one. I'm not sure why this particular segment is feeling the need to cater to the black audience with their movie selection, but there you go. Maybe they are big in Japan. Anyhow, six hours of "domestic flight".

In any case, we both made it to Hawaii if a bit later than planned. It is beautiful, but of course Texas-like hot & humid. After not getting much sleep, and little to no real food most of the day, and the 3 hour time shift, we are both lacking in perky. We are going to check out the pool, then do some shopping and fooding, and Margo will check in for conference.