Island Hopping, Part 2: Listening for the Call

I was so excited to get off this island for even a couple of days and to return to Maui for the first time in a long while, that I spent most of last week leading up to my vacation in complete stress-out mode.  And for no reason, really.  I just wanted out.  Out of the daily grind, and out of my habitual routine that lately has consisted entirely of working and getting up far too early every day, and not much else.  I think I just needed a change of scenery or something.  But instead of relaxing into it, knowing that as each day passed I was getting closer and closer to freedom, I did the exact opposite.  The pressure built steadily all week, until I was in full hand-wringing stressball mode by the time I left work and headed for the airport with Melody on Friday morning. 


And speaking of Mel, she herself had experienced a rough week leading up to this little getaway.  In the car on the way to the airport, we compared notes, sort of a pissing contest between friends to see who was more miserable, unhappy and in need of a break.  I'm still not sure who won (or lost, as the case may be), but at least we knew we were about to take a 28 minute flight to another island paradise and leave our cares behind, even if only for a couple of days.  Better times were ahead.  They had to be.  And we were more than ready. 


We parked at Honolulu International and headed for the terminal.  Once we passed through security, we arrived at Gate 49 at least a full hour before boarding was to begin.  Ah, time to relax, and we both immediately did what most red-blooded Americans do nowadays while waiting for a flight (or waiting for anything, really). 


Yep, you guessed it.  Fire up the smartphones, ladies and gentlemen. 


Amidst talking, laughing and feeling the first bits of decompression underway, we sat at Gate 50, right next to our departure gate (there were no more seats at 49), and waited for the call.   Sure, we were gabbing incessantly.  Yes, we were laughing alot and also intermittently stabbing away at the keys on our phone.  But we listened, or at least we thought we were listening, for our flight to begin its boarding process.  Every few minutes, an announcement would be made  over the intercom about some other flight and its impending departure but nothing about ours, which was scheduled for takeoff at 11:51am.   Hmm.  Interesting.  After some time had passed, I glanced down at my phone for a time check. 


11:51am.  Uh-oh.


I advise Mel of the time, and we both look at each other with puzzled looks.  How come nobody has said anything about our flight, we wonder.  We head for Gate 49, and I immediately notice the empty seats in the waiting area.  We ambush the Hawaiian Airlines chick.  Paul Soluri and Melody Takacs, we blurt out.  Behind her, I see a Hawaiian jet backing out of its parking spot.  Uh-oh.  The woman looks at us, almost angrily, and declares, "We called you both...twice!  The flight is taking off now.  We boarded quickly, but we called you guys.  Sorry."


Our only response:  Shiiittt! 


I swear neither of us heard anything. We plead our case to the worker, as if she cared, and then ask what we should do next.  After a few more minutes of chastizing, she decides to put us on standby for the next flight,which is in 30 minutes.  She advises that we may not get on that one either, as there are at least eight people ahead of us on the standby list, and the flight was already "full".  If we don't make it on that one, we are sure to get on the next one, she insists.  Yeah, right.  Our afternoon could be spent sitting at the airport, waiting and bitching.  Dejected, Mel and I go with it.  But we keep asking each other the same question. 


How the @!# did we miss our flight???


Neither of us had ever done so before, and so we sit and wait anxiously for the next flight to start boarding.  We are sure to position ourselves right at Gate 49, within easy earshot of any announcements.  Our anxiety has turned to comedy now, as we contemplate whether anyone ever really called our names for that last flight, or maybe they butchered our last names so badly that they were unrecognizable to us.  Who knew.  Either way, we had to admit that this was funny.  As we waited we limited our phone use, sitting in one spot with eyes and ears open, determined to pay much closer attention.


Boarding came and went.  Again.  We never heard our names.  Again.  The final boarding call is announced, and I disappointedly tell Mel that it looks like we are not going to make this flight either.  With a look of "oh hell no!" on her face, she was clearly not having it.  She storms up to the podium to see what is going on.  Within seconds, I hear her yell to me, telling me to get our stuff and get moving.  Seems that this time, the Hawaiian Airlines chick called our names again....or at least she said she did.  Mmm-hmm. 


We end up with the last two seats on the plane. 


Twenty-eight minutes later, we are at the Maui airport, laughing and comparing notes about what just happened in Honolulu.  Dude, there's no way she called our names!  NO WAY!!  What the #@!! was up??!!  We are boisterous and hysterical now, rehashing the whole thing endlessly as we weave our way through people to fetch Mel's bag.  I am sure that if anyone was asked which two people in baggage claim had just missed their flights, even without overhearing our conversation, they certainly could have guessed it was us just by observing our frenetic energies. 


We reluctantly agree that maybe, just maybe, this foolishness is precisely how we missed our original flight in the first place (!), but most definitely not that second flight.  That one was NOT our fault, man.  She never called our names!  After many re-enactments, we decide that it is over (at least for now) and that it is time to start our little vacation.  Whew.  We made it.   Plus, who cared whose fault it was.  Somehow it was hilarious, and seemed perfect in its own strange way. 


At this point I am already feeling soooo much better, and we haven't even reached the rental car yet.  I could not stop laughing over the hi jinx involved with catching a simple, quick flight to Maui.  As I'm giggling like a schoolgirl, I immediately realize what has been missing from my life all week:  Laughter!  Could it be possible that we were both so caught up in our own stressed out, miserable existences that we never even heard our names being called?  Were we victims of technology, or at least victims of our own senseless desire to be on our phones constantly while waiting just a few minutes for a flight?   Or did the airline employees simply not call us?  The mystery deepened, and conspiracy theories were flying.  Of course, each one made me laugh harder.  


At last, we are outside the Maui airport.  Our heads swivel from side to side as we both take in the sights with huge smiles plastered across our faces.  Palm trees, lots of them, are all swaying to the gentle tunes of the tradewinds.  The sky is a clear, electric blue.  It is warm, bright, and totally worth every second of delay to get here.  Sure, it all looks very familiar, but we are on vacation now, and so it kind of feels like someone hit the reset button and refreshed the screen for us.  We stand still for a moment, soaking it all in with an audible sigh.  It's going to be a great weekend, we proclaim.  And sure enough, it was. 


28 minutes to a new perspective.  That was all it took.  And missing that flight added something to the whole experience.  I got to laugh at myself and remember not to take things so seriously.  It is occasionally very necessary to stop what we are doing, or even miss a flight, to see the comedic errors of our ways.  


Life can be really funny sometimes if you just let it be.  And it's even funnier when you have someone to laugh with.