It’s all the same from 36,000 feet
Maui from the air
So I get to the airport and have to park way out east in hell’s half acre. I always pack so that I can handle all my own bags in the event of just this sort of occurrence. Still, my giant roller bag when packed with every piece of warm weather clothing I own, plus all the toiletries I might ever need at any time in my life, well, it gets pretty heavy. Add my laptop which no matter how small and light is still heavy if you carry it any distance at all. You can picture I was huffin by the time I got into the terminal and up to United’s check in counter.
Luckily United’s desk wasn’t nearly as busy as Northwest’s usually is. So I breezed through there (Had all my ID out for a change, too). Up to the concourse to the restroom, then the gift shop to buy water, trail mix, magazines. Next, over to Starbucks for a mocha. All preparations finished and I’ve got time to spare!
I spied Lisa and her sister sitting at a table on the wrong side of the security checkpoint, so I went and sat with them a minute. They’d hit a deer on the way to the airport and were still kind of reliving it – I guess Lisa got a little sick afterward.
Finally we all decided we’d better go through security before it got any later.
The security line was looong, surprisingly. It split into two, with barely any room to maneuver yourself and your stuff onto the conveyor. I mean, you put your coat in one bin and send it across the rollers toward the xray machine. Purse in another. Juggle your computer bag in your arms in order to extract the machine itself (MUST remove computers from bags) and put it in a bin. Put the bag in another. Finally unencumbered for a blissful moment you walk free thru the metal detector yourself. Beep beep it says. “Ma’am, your shoes,” the man sez. So I step back, unzip my boots and put them in yet another bin.
I gather all my things (hurry, there are people behind you) in my arms, and pad stocking footed to where Wjotek and Alan’s wife are leaning against a wall waiting for Alan, who was held up in security with his video equipment. I drop most of my things to the floor (amazing,is it really all black? Coat, purse, computer, bag, boots…?) and step back into my boots.
Ready now to continue to the gate, I head in the direction of B1. You only have a choice between A concourse and B concourse here; Gerald Ford International is really small, so at any given point you have no reason to panic that you might not make it to your gate while strolling at a leisurely pace. Which is not the case in Chicago, Minneapolis, Detroit, but there you go. There are advantages to living in a smaller city.
Of course when we got to the gate, most of our people were already there. Of course, the plane is not. It is late coming from Chicago because of the fog (oh yeah, there was fog this morning). We have a really tight connection in Chicago, so people are starting to worry we won’t make it. I decide it is pointless to think about. We have nothing to do today but get to Hawaii – someone somewhere will make sure we do.
The plane is overbooked and they guys at the desk are asking the indifferent crowd if anyone is willing to take a later flight. One free roundtrip ticket to anywhere in the lower 48 is the prize. Nobody is biting, however.
“When do you think we’d get there?” asks Lisa of no one in particular.
“Probably in about two days, sez Pam.
“Oh.” Says Lisa. She decides not to take the airline up on their offer, either.
“Anyway,” David sez, “I wouldn’t do it for less than two tickets. To anywhere in the world. Then it might be worth it not to get there today.”
Our 9 a.m. ride finally shows up at around 9:20. We all board almost as fast as the bedraggled arriving passengers can deplane. There is a family onboard with us – mom, dad, 6 kids – all wearing matching Hawaiian shirts. Andree learns they have 10 kids; they’ve left the youngest 4 at home. They have two sets of twins. Good god. As a mother of twins I commiserate with her for a second and surprisingly she laments slightly too. But 10 kids! I ask if they are adopted (I can be really stupid sometimes); she laughs and says no. I look around at the kids. Definitely all have mom’s big eyes. This couple looks too young and too together to be parents of that many kids. Just as I’m starting to wonder (to myself this time) how a young couple affords to take a family of 8 to Hawaii, she tells me: They won a trip to the ProBowl in a contest at Meijer. What a great thing that somebody like this wins a trip like that. There is a just god afterall.
We’ve landed at O’Hare in Chicago and they’re holding the plane for 11 of us on the flight from GR. We have a ways to walk but it is mostly on people movers. (I love those things – I feel so much the athlete on them!) We find the plane and settle into our seats (see above; I have a little haven here near the back of the plane). And we take off. We made it. See? I knew there was no point worrying about it.
So now I’ve been here for HOURS and hours and it’s beyond getting old. Lisa was ready to jump out the plane an hour ago. She says people back in her area are getting cranky and some people behind me are drinking and getting a touch belligerent. I don’t know. I’m just staying safe behind my headphone barrier. Listening to both Shins CDs, both Counting Crows CDs (but my favorite August and Everything After is missing) the new GreenDay one, which I about have committed to memory. Tried listening to the Brahms Requiem, but the plane’s engine noise just overpowers so much of the quieter sections.
Susan burned some of her CDs for me, plus I have a few others on my hard drive. I do have more music than last time I flew to Hawaii though. Last time I listened to one of my Dave Mathews CDs for the entire flight home. Which is sick and wrong, but it was the only way I could keep the rising panic down over the long flight. (I seem to have gotten better hold of my anxieties with yet another drug.) There is nothing worse than fighting panic for 6 or 7 hours overnight on a plane full of sleeping people. It is dark and lonely and all you want to do is crawl out of your skin. I couldn’t sit still when I was awake and I couldn’t stay asleep for long, even with sleepy Dramamine. The CD kinda helped keep things even for me.
6:15 Michigan time and they are serving the promised snack. Oh boy. I have a box. And in it is a wrapped cold sandwich called “oven roasted chicken and cheddar on a whole wheat roll” Sounds good. Doesn’t look so good. But I open it and eat anyway because that is all there is to do. I also have a baglet of Fritos, spicy brown mustard and more Oreos! True to form, the beverage cart comes around when I am almost half done with my sandwich. True to form, the beverage cart is out of all diet soda. (It’s not the first time I’ve seen this happen.) “There’s three hundred people on this plane,” the flight attendant tells me. “They all want diet!” Duh! It’s what we drink! Get a clue. Actually, no big deal. I’ve still got part of my diet pepsi from earlier. So I get a cup of ice and I’m all set.
Wowee, 6:57 and the captain just came over the speaker and said we’d be landing in about 50 minutes. Twenty minutes earlier than planned. The weather is sunny, 78 degrees. Woo hoo. And it will be light enough to get a look at things when we get there. He tells me I only have about 20 more minutes to have the computer out. Finally. We’re here!
