Isn’t there a law that if something can go wrong it will? That has been my day and unfortunately the day is not close to being over. I am currently flying on the plane from Honolulu to Houston back in time. Once we arrive in Nashville, we will have traveled a solid 26 hours, yet it will only be four hours later in the day. Thank you, International Dateline.
Last night I attempted to take a nap before we had to leave at 11pm for the Korror Airport. I accidentally had my alarm set to Guam time so I shorted myself an hour from that nap but realized that too late. I got to chat online with a friend so that made me feel better. We loaded our bags on the bus then headed for the airport. The Palau Airport stinks and I don’t mean that literally. I needed to mail postcards from Palau, but they had no postbox from the airport. Ok, cool, I’ll do it from Guam. The check-in crew demonstrated how stoked they were to work at the airport with their smiles, friendly service, and happy attitudes. Oh, wait. There was none of that. The only positive that came out of the fact that the attendants so clearly did not care about service, that they didn’t care that our bags were a little overweight. I’ll take the crankypants check-in clerks in return for NOT having to pay an extra $50 for overweight luggage. So that worked in our favor. I got caught in the security because my ziplock bag filled with my 3.5 oz bottles of liquids was not good enough for the Palau Airport so I had to walk to the restaurant next door to purchase a 50 cent “authorized” ziplock bag. If that doesn’t have “scam” written all over it, I don’t know what does.
We finally take off, authorized ziplock bags and all, only to land an hour later on the island of Yap. The attendant came on over the loudspeakers, “Please, everybody in rows 5 through 28, seats A, B, and C get off the plane and wait in the terminal.” I was in 17C. What!? Why? I want to nap, lady! It is 2 in the morning! How come the other half of the plane gets to stay in their seats? I’m not going and you can’t make me!
So I got off the plane and waited in the Yap Airport. Where is Yap? At this moment, I still have no idea. I had flashbacks to the Iwo trip in which we were escorted off the plane only to wait in the hangar (too bad they weren’t playing Flags of Our Fathers like at Iwo. At least then we’d have something to do). I will look it up when I get home. So now I can say that I have been to Yap. It’ll be a good story to tell when awkward silences arise at group events. “I’ve been to Yap before.” That’ll impress people.
We loaded the plane (again), got settled in and I napped my way to Guam. In Guam we had to unload the plane, go through Immigration and back through security (trip #2) with just enough time to spare to get on the plane to Honolulu. Again, I looked for a postbox and was informed that there was not one in the airport. I want to know why not? Seriously? Does nobody mail postcards anymore? Have the blue post office boxes fallen to the wayside as people blog their life away? Why send a postcard when I can send a link from the airport? Oh, well, I’ll just carry them to Hawai’i.
I got on the plane, nestled in for the seven hour flight, napped for a bit, watched a funny movie, did some yoga moves outside the bathrooms, attempted to nap again, played some hangman, all while trying to remain patient. Home, home, home! was all that ran through my head. We landed in Honolulu, had to go through Customs, and eventually back through security (trip #3). To go through security we have to get our bags from baggage claim then re-check them through. The bags from our flight kept coming and I twiddled my thumbs. La la la. Where is my second bag? Ho hum, this is fun, but why have the conveyor belts stopped? Where is my bag?! Somewhere between Palau and Honolulu, that’s where. Probably stuck on the stupid island of Yap.
So I will have to file a baggage claim at Nashville. I am rather upset. I was stomping around the duty free store in Honolulu, but nobody cared in there. Stupid chocolate-covered macadamia nuts. It’s their fault. Ok, maybe it is nobody’s fault, but I was still irked. And those macadamia nuts are a good size for throwing. I thought about getting them to either throw at people or eat my feelings. I did neither. I did finally find a post office box outside the duty-free store, so any postcards sent (regardless of where they are from) have Honolulu postmarks. Oh, well.
I should sleep now. I just have visions of my box being washed up on an island in the Pacific somewhere with Tom Hanks and Wilson. Maybe he can use my camera, bag-full of Iwo Jima sand, clothes, journal, books, and running shoes.