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shannon_aUp at 5am. We're running a bit earlier than usual because our normal 9am flight to Honolulu got bumped back to 8am several months ago. Fortunately, I slept well last night, with no anxiety about the trip. So I got in maybe five and a half hours of actual sleep.
We get our last things together, and I bid a sad farewell to our cats. There's a 10-minute wait on Lyft cars, and so I call before we're quite ready, and then we end up rushed at the last minute. I think I locked the outer door in my stumble down the stairs with 48 pounds of suitcase, a backpack, and a water bottle.
One of the suitcase's front wheels sheers off as I tug it down the stairs. Guess we're done with that, wish it had happened at the end of the trip, not the start. But it still rolls on its back two wheels, at least.
There's a Lyft car and a ride to the airport that I can barely remember. Kimberly and I and (sometimes) the Lyft drive talked during it, but I think it was mostly babble.
Hawaiian at Oakland always seems to have terrible lines. However, they finally seem to almost have their process going with the electronic check-ins (something that almost every airport I've been too lately has figured out, with the exception of the west's worst airport, in Berlin), but we opt not use it because we want to make sure there's going to be no problem with Kimberly's scooter.
Twenty-five minutes later, we verify there's no problem, though the staff is confused and trepidatious enough about it that they call ahead to the gate to warn, "Scooter's Coming!"
Our suitcase goes in without problem because I'd measured it at 48-49 pounds before we left home.
At TSA, we get to walk up the "medical" line, which saves us all of a minute or two. Then it's the normal crush. They now insist on taking our iPads out of our special TSA-approved backpacks that aren't supposed to require that because of "new regulations", to which I say, F*** Donald Trump, who was trying to ban laptops to Europe when I was out there last year. (It's actually the fear-mongering TSA's fault, not the worst president in the United State's history.)
When we get up to the front of the security lines, they call me as a male opt-out, and deal with it quickly, as usual (or at least, as usual at Oakland). There's a new guy being trained, but I've done this so many times by now that it's a total non-issue. In fact the trainer says that'll be the case for most opt-outs because they tend to have done it before. (Unlike the sheep, who keep supporting the invasive x-ray and millimeter wave machines by their pathological compliance.) Kimberly gets called out with some other code for the fact that she's mobility impaired and on a scooter, and they take much longer to get to her. (She's still done right when I am, because of New Guy.)
For once we don't have time to eat our Overpriced Starbucks Bagels after we get them. That's in part because we're running maybe 30 minutes later than usual, because I was very precise at getting us to the Hawaiian line exactly two hours before our flight, but also because we pre-board, again due to Kimberly's mobility issues.
When we pre-board we go amidst a huge mob of strollers. "This'll be fun", I think of the flight. Oh, and about half of those strollers are just sitting around, blocking things. We practically have to push our way through a mob to pre-board.
Once we get aboard, I see how useful it actually is, because it gives me time and space to stand around while Kimberly settles.
It's weird standing around, looking at an almost empty plane. Planes are never empty nowadays, especially not this flight to Honolulu.
There's one very unhappy baby early on the flight, but generally it's not worse than usual. Except for the one or two babies who seem able to squeal at a frequency that would shatter glasses.
Nonetheless, the flight reminds me how much I come to hate other human beings when squished into an airplane with them.
The people behind us should die. From the first two hours of the flight, they literally do not shut up.
The people ahead ahead of are just annoying ignoramuses. The guy of the couple seems unable to figure out how to pull his seat up when we're served a breakfast of almost entirely sweet food, a Hawaiian speciality. Finally he puts his hand back and managed to flip up my whole tray table, knocking everything on the ground. I'm absolutely astounded as it's one of the rudest or stupidest things I've ever seen on an airplace. I gather my stuff and am thankful we haven't gotten our food yet.
There are also a couple of different people who feel like they get to blast their iPads without earphones, and who cares about anyone else. One of this is a toddler, who perhaps really doesn't know better, but his parents should know enough to moderate that volume.
Really, annoying or not, I don't care. I've got pretty used to flights in the last two years, and this one is pretty short compared to last October's flights.
After a transfer in Honolulu we come in to the big island around 2.30. We see lots of black ground, like a post-apocalyptic landscape, from old lava.
We meet up with my dad, Mary, Melody, and Jared, since this is our big family vacation.
And then it's off driving northward.
There are lots of beautiful landscapes on the west coast as we drive northward. But it's getting grayer and grayer and and by the time we slide through Waimea, a town in the north of the island, it's definitely raining.
By the time we get to our house in Honokaa, we're literally in a rain forest. And it's pouring.
We send Mary out to scout the house and make sure it's the right one. She returns with an umbrella and we use it briefly but pretty soon we're unloading in the pouring rain.
It's actually pretty hilarious.
Our accommodation is "The Bamboo House". It's a huge 2,600 or so square foot house either fronted in bamboo or made of bamboo. It's pretty beautiful (and huge). But the coolest thing is the rain pouring down and the rain forest and creek just outside the lanai. And the crickets and frogs and what not constantly chirping outside. It's like we're in our little protected home, straight in the middle of the jungle. I could live here.
We spend a pleasant evening in the house, eating a Costco/home dinner then talking some, but soon communicating via our devices, sending pictures back and forth.
Ah, the modern family vacation.
We get our last things together, and I bid a sad farewell to our cats. There's a 10-minute wait on Lyft cars, and so I call before we're quite ready, and then we end up rushed at the last minute. I think I locked the outer door in my stumble down the stairs with 48 pounds of suitcase, a backpack, and a water bottle.
One of the suitcase's front wheels sheers off as I tug it down the stairs. Guess we're done with that, wish it had happened at the end of the trip, not the start. But it still rolls on its back two wheels, at least.
There's a Lyft car and a ride to the airport that I can barely remember. Kimberly and I and (sometimes) the Lyft drive talked during it, but I think it was mostly babble.
Hawaiian at Oakland always seems to have terrible lines. However, they finally seem to almost have their process going with the electronic check-ins (something that almost every airport I've been too lately has figured out, with the exception of the west's worst airport, in Berlin), but we opt not use it because we want to make sure there's going to be no problem with Kimberly's scooter.
Twenty-five minutes later, we verify there's no problem, though the staff is confused and trepidatious enough about it that they call ahead to the gate to warn, "Scooter's Coming!"
Our suitcase goes in without problem because I'd measured it at 48-49 pounds before we left home.
At TSA, we get to walk up the "medical" line, which saves us all of a minute or two. Then it's the normal crush. They now insist on taking our iPads out of our special TSA-approved backpacks that aren't supposed to require that because of "new regulations", to which I say, F*** Donald Trump, who was trying to ban laptops to Europe when I was out there last year. (It's actually the fear-mongering TSA's fault, not the worst president in the United State's history.)
When we get up to the front of the security lines, they call me as a male opt-out, and deal with it quickly, as usual (or at least, as usual at Oakland). There's a new guy being trained, but I've done this so many times by now that it's a total non-issue. In fact the trainer says that'll be the case for most opt-outs because they tend to have done it before. (Unlike the sheep, who keep supporting the invasive x-ray and millimeter wave machines by their pathological compliance.) Kimberly gets called out with some other code for the fact that she's mobility impaired and on a scooter, and they take much longer to get to her. (She's still done right when I am, because of New Guy.)
For once we don't have time to eat our Overpriced Starbucks Bagels after we get them. That's in part because we're running maybe 30 minutes later than usual, because I was very precise at getting us to the Hawaiian line exactly two hours before our flight, but also because we pre-board, again due to Kimberly's mobility issues.
When we pre-board we go amidst a huge mob of strollers. "This'll be fun", I think of the flight. Oh, and about half of those strollers are just sitting around, blocking things. We practically have to push our way through a mob to pre-board.
Once we get aboard, I see how useful it actually is, because it gives me time and space to stand around while Kimberly settles.
It's weird standing around, looking at an almost empty plane. Planes are never empty nowadays, especially not this flight to Honolulu.
There's one very unhappy baby early on the flight, but generally it's not worse than usual. Except for the one or two babies who seem able to squeal at a frequency that would shatter glasses.
Nonetheless, the flight reminds me how much I come to hate other human beings when squished into an airplane with them.
The people behind us should die. From the first two hours of the flight, they literally do not shut up.
The people ahead ahead of are just annoying ignoramuses. The guy of the couple seems unable to figure out how to pull his seat up when we're served a breakfast of almost entirely sweet food, a Hawaiian speciality. Finally he puts his hand back and managed to flip up my whole tray table, knocking everything on the ground. I'm absolutely astounded as it's one of the rudest or stupidest things I've ever seen on an airplace. I gather my stuff and am thankful we haven't gotten our food yet.
There are also a couple of different people who feel like they get to blast their iPads without earphones, and who cares about anyone else. One of this is a toddler, who perhaps really doesn't know better, but his parents should know enough to moderate that volume.
Really, annoying or not, I don't care. I've got pretty used to flights in the last two years, and this one is pretty short compared to last October's flights.
After a transfer in Honolulu we come in to the big island around 2.30. We see lots of black ground, like a post-apocalyptic landscape, from old lava.
We meet up with my dad, Mary, Melody, and Jared, since this is our big family vacation.
And then it's off driving northward.
There are lots of beautiful landscapes on the west coast as we drive northward. But it's getting grayer and grayer and and by the time we slide through Waimea, a town in the north of the island, it's definitely raining.
By the time we get to our house in Honokaa, we're literally in a rain forest. And it's pouring.
We send Mary out to scout the house and make sure it's the right one. She returns with an umbrella and we use it briefly but pretty soon we're unloading in the pouring rain.
It's actually pretty hilarious.
Our accommodation is "The Bamboo House". It's a huge 2,600 or so square foot house either fronted in bamboo or made of bamboo. It's pretty beautiful (and huge). But the coolest thing is the rain pouring down and the rain forest and creek just outside the lanai. And the crickets and frogs and what not constantly chirping outside. It's like we're in our little protected home, straight in the middle of the jungle. I could live here.
We spend a pleasant evening in the house, eating a Costco/home dinner then talking some, but soon communicating via our devices, sending pictures back and forth.
Ah, the modern family vacation.