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shannon_aWe usually run our vacations at 7-8 days, so though we've loved spending time with family, we are well ready to return home.
We are up at 5.30am. This has actually been my typical waking time in Hawaii. Down at 9.30pm each night, and up at 5.30am. Which sounds a lot less ridiculous when you realize that I managed to not move my waking time at all from California time.
There's bagels and cream cheese and avocado, and then we're ready to go to the airport not long after 7am.
The airport is a bit chaotic, mainly because there's almost no infrastructure and no structure at the Kona airport. We wander around and are eventually helped by the staff to find the right lines. It actually all goes quite quickly, and we're sitting at the terminal within half-an-hour of our arrival. Or at least as much terminal as there is. The Kona airport is mostly a big open plaza with slightly covered seating around the edges.
I read to Kimberly while we wait for our flight, which is entirely typical. But non-typically, in fact for the first time that I can remember, I'm asked to read more quietly.
This is no problem, I'm always very aware that I could disturb people while reading aloud, so I don't do so in particularly close quarters, and I've even been known to ask nearby people if they mind. So, I'm starting to tell this Australian lady, "No problem!", but then she continues on, saying, "ESPECIALLY THOSE **BAD** WORDS."
There have been a few fucks in the text. But the lady's puritanical nature makes me give far fewer fucks than I usually would. I finish up telling her "No problem!", but as she continues with her tirade about foul language, I lose my cool just a bit and tell her, "You really shouldn't be out in public if you can't deal with swear words."
She decides that's a cue to repeat her original demand that we read aloud quietly, and I again tell her sure, but then I point out that she did choose to sit down (in this large plaza, full of empty seats) right across from the people who were already reading aloud, which is all true. She says, "Well, we just sat down", and I say, "Where we were already reading aloud."
She decides that's a cue to repeat her original demand that we read aloud quietly, and I again tell her sure, and this time I point out that I'd already said that we'd be quieter two times previously and that she needs to stop talking to me. Somewhat remarkably she does.
Later, when we're pre-boarding the plane, I realize her problem is likely that she's vastly overprivileged and expects everyone to kowtow before her, meeting her every demand. This assessment is based not just on the fact that she's the only person I remember asking us to read-aloud more quietly in the last twenty years, but more notably on the fact that she and her family have about two each of the 20" over-head carry-on bags, plus a huge painting. It's almost exactly twice what they're allowed to have, but the airplane staff don't exactly complain, they just express shock as no-swearing-lady and family board the plane, pushing a whole platoon of luggage ahead of them, keeping everything in motion like modern-day plate spinners.
"WELL," she says, "We don't have a house on HAWAII." Apparently this explains why they get to fill multiple overhead bins with their crap. And perhaps also why their divine right demands that their environment be reading-quiet and swear-word free. (And of course everyone else on that plane obviously has a house on Hawaii ... or else they just don't have the excessively stroked privilege that makes them think, apparently correctly, that they can flaunt the airline's rules.)
After that, I didn't feel bad about back-talking her in the terminal (while I acceded to her demand about quieter reading).
On our second flight, from Honolulu to Oakland, we have a rather shocking surprise.
We come upon our seats, and across the back is emblazoned the words "Extra Comfort Premium Seating". I look up at the seat numbers, look forward and back, and slowly it dawns that those are indeed the right seats. Even though there was definitely no purchase of "Extra Comfort Premium Seating", because I am totally not on board with modern-day airlines trying to nickel and dime their customers to death (meanwhile, giving people like no-swearing lady, the idea that they should actually be treated better than everyone else).
As we sit down in our seats with actual leg room, we just revel in the luxury. It continues to be great all flight.
The best I can figure is that it's thanks to us literally making our reservations the first day we could, last June or July, due to the demands of making sure the whole family was on the same page for this vacation. It looks to me like Hawaiian Air changed from using a 767 to an Airbus sometime after that reservation, which switched where the premium seats were. And, Hawaiian just let us keep our original seats (which was definitely the most proper thing to do in this situation). So, Hawaiian gained a little respect back, after their fiasco of a few years ago where they gouged us for several hundred dollars when we had to change our flights because I was very sick from an antibiotic at the time.
There is always such a cacophony of screaming children on Hawaiian trips, but the most exciting event on this flight is probably Kimberly dumping a glass of Ginger Ale on top of both of us. Oops!
I suppose it could have been worse: I could have dumped my tomato juice.
Hawaiian is getting increasingly manipulative in its attempts to sell people on its credit card, which makes me increasingly wary about having their credit card.
They've been hard-selling on all four of our flights this vacation, but this time they're jaw-droppingly scummy when they say, "We only have 30 applications onboard, and there are about 220 of you, so get your credit card application while you can."
That's pure psychological manipulation, but it doesn't quite offset them maintaining our premium seats rather than reassigning us.
So, Hawaiian's score for the trip is perhaps: +++--.
It takes Hawaiian forever to unload all the strollers and more importantly Scooty, Kimberly's scooter. The flight attendant keeps apologizing. I just try and stay out of the way. When we eventually receive her, we walk down to the baggage check, spot our broken suitcase as one of the half-dozen still circling around.
Then it's out to a Lyft and home.
Whew.
We are up at 5.30am. This has actually been my typical waking time in Hawaii. Down at 9.30pm each night, and up at 5.30am. Which sounds a lot less ridiculous when you realize that I managed to not move my waking time at all from California time.
There's bagels and cream cheese and avocado, and then we're ready to go to the airport not long after 7am.
The airport is a bit chaotic, mainly because there's almost no infrastructure and no structure at the Kona airport. We wander around and are eventually helped by the staff to find the right lines. It actually all goes quite quickly, and we're sitting at the terminal within half-an-hour of our arrival. Or at least as much terminal as there is. The Kona airport is mostly a big open plaza with slightly covered seating around the edges.
I read to Kimberly while we wait for our flight, which is entirely typical. But non-typically, in fact for the first time that I can remember, I'm asked to read more quietly.
This is no problem, I'm always very aware that I could disturb people while reading aloud, so I don't do so in particularly close quarters, and I've even been known to ask nearby people if they mind. So, I'm starting to tell this Australian lady, "No problem!", but then she continues on, saying, "ESPECIALLY THOSE **BAD** WORDS."
There have been a few fucks in the text. But the lady's puritanical nature makes me give far fewer fucks than I usually would. I finish up telling her "No problem!", but as she continues with her tirade about foul language, I lose my cool just a bit and tell her, "You really shouldn't be out in public if you can't deal with swear words."
She decides that's a cue to repeat her original demand that we read aloud quietly, and I again tell her sure, but then I point out that she did choose to sit down (in this large plaza, full of empty seats) right across from the people who were already reading aloud, which is all true. She says, "Well, we just sat down", and I say, "Where we were already reading aloud."
She decides that's a cue to repeat her original demand that we read aloud quietly, and I again tell her sure, and this time I point out that I'd already said that we'd be quieter two times previously and that she needs to stop talking to me. Somewhat remarkably she does.
Later, when we're pre-boarding the plane, I realize her problem is likely that she's vastly overprivileged and expects everyone to kowtow before her, meeting her every demand. This assessment is based not just on the fact that she's the only person I remember asking us to read-aloud more quietly in the last twenty years, but more notably on the fact that she and her family have about two each of the 20" over-head carry-on bags, plus a huge painting. It's almost exactly twice what they're allowed to have, but the airplane staff don't exactly complain, they just express shock as no-swearing-lady and family board the plane, pushing a whole platoon of luggage ahead of them, keeping everything in motion like modern-day plate spinners.
"WELL," she says, "We don't have a house on HAWAII." Apparently this explains why they get to fill multiple overhead bins with their crap. And perhaps also why their divine right demands that their environment be reading-quiet and swear-word free. (And of course everyone else on that plane obviously has a house on Hawaii ... or else they just don't have the excessively stroked privilege that makes them think, apparently correctly, that they can flaunt the airline's rules.)
After that, I didn't feel bad about back-talking her in the terminal (while I acceded to her demand about quieter reading).
On our second flight, from Honolulu to Oakland, we have a rather shocking surprise.
We come upon our seats, and across the back is emblazoned the words "Extra Comfort Premium Seating". I look up at the seat numbers, look forward and back, and slowly it dawns that those are indeed the right seats. Even though there was definitely no purchase of "Extra Comfort Premium Seating", because I am totally not on board with modern-day airlines trying to nickel and dime their customers to death (meanwhile, giving people like no-swearing lady, the idea that they should actually be treated better than everyone else).
As we sit down in our seats with actual leg room, we just revel in the luxury. It continues to be great all flight.
The best I can figure is that it's thanks to us literally making our reservations the first day we could, last June or July, due to the demands of making sure the whole family was on the same page for this vacation. It looks to me like Hawaiian Air changed from using a 767 to an Airbus sometime after that reservation, which switched where the premium seats were. And, Hawaiian just let us keep our original seats (which was definitely the most proper thing to do in this situation). So, Hawaiian gained a little respect back, after their fiasco of a few years ago where they gouged us for several hundred dollars when we had to change our flights because I was very sick from an antibiotic at the time.
There is always such a cacophony of screaming children on Hawaiian trips, but the most exciting event on this flight is probably Kimberly dumping a glass of Ginger Ale on top of both of us. Oops!
I suppose it could have been worse: I could have dumped my tomato juice.
Hawaiian is getting increasingly manipulative in its attempts to sell people on its credit card, which makes me increasingly wary about having their credit card.
They've been hard-selling on all four of our flights this vacation, but this time they're jaw-droppingly scummy when they say, "We only have 30 applications onboard, and there are about 220 of you, so get your credit card application while you can."
That's pure psychological manipulation, but it doesn't quite offset them maintaining our premium seats rather than reassigning us.
So, Hawaiian's score for the trip is perhaps: +++--.
It takes Hawaiian forever to unload all the strollers and more importantly Scooty, Kimberly's scooter. The flight attendant keeps apologizing. I just try and stay out of the way. When we eventually receive her, we walk down to the baggage check, spot our broken suitcase as one of the half-dozen still circling around.
Then it's out to a Lyft and home.
Whew.