Departure and return home

The next morning we actually slept in.

It had been the first time we slept in since Stacey had arrived, and it was nice. Most of the day was spent packing, cleaning the crew quarters, and doing laundry. We did take one break to go check out some surf shops to see if we could find some engraved carabiners I had seen a month prior, but it was to no avail.

Our flight left at nine-ten that night. We left to have dinner one more time at Dukes, again with the mango ribs and muy thais. After that it was off to the gas station to fill the jeep up before returning it. That's when I ran into a snag.

I had somehow managed to lose my ATM card. I have never lost one, and of course was more than irritated. I called Dukes to see if they had found it by chance, but when I finally got a manager on the phone, I was disappointed. Immediately Stacey phoned Visa and had them place a hold on the card. Since it had only been a couple of hours, I wasn't too worried about it, but it was a major irritant.

Once the Jeep was filled with gas (using Stacey's card), we headed over to Dollar to return the adventuremobile. That was surprisingly short, with a curbside check-in and inspection, the whole process taking maybe five minutes. In short order we were on the shuttle and at the terminal. It was six-fifty-five, and here's where the real cluster f--k began.

The shuttle dropped us off at a crosswalk that was seemingly close to where we needed to be. We crossed the street and got in line at the US Airways counter. That's when an attendant stepped up to us and asked us to place our bags on a pre-screening scale for a weight check. Our heaviest bag was forty-eight pounds, so we were ok for the fifty pound weight limit. However it was then that we were informed that we had to pass agricultural inspection before we could check in.

Imagine if you will, a row of check in counters. We were on the extreme left side. We now had to go through a crowd to get to the center of the counters to get to the agricultural inspection station. And we weren't the only ones. However, there were a bunch of people that just couldn't figure out to move to one side or another and decided to take us head on. A decision I think they came to regret when after getting tired of asking people to move every three seconds I simply started walking through them.

Once at the inspection station, I once again saw all that was retarded with Hawaii: it's simply an x-ray machine, just like the one TSA was going to use on our bag once checked in. That's right, instead of being smart and efficient, they implemented their own system for checking peoples bags for fruit and such without regard for how it could be done better.

Once our bags went though, they were tagged with a green sticker, and back we went to the checkout counter. So far, it was irritating, but not horrible. Then we got back in line.

At some point the computers at the check in desk went down. There was also a couple that was at the counter the whole time we were in line. They wound up being on our flight, and I never did find out what took them so long. So, in line we waited. And waited. And waited.

Numerous times we heard people being told they had to head to agricultural inspection before getting into the check-in line. Numerous times we heard these people say how they didn't see a sign or hear an announcement, and wondered why they hadn't been told this to begin with. And now the line was even longer making travel to the agriculture inspection station a hell of a lot harder.

Meanwhile, in the line it was getting warm. It was probably in the mid eighties, and very humid, with maybe an occasional breeze. And now there were upwards of three hundred people crammed under the overhang to check in for flights with US Airways and it's competitors. And that's when someone snapped.

I think he was German, seemed to be a very "alles-in-ordnung" type. He was at the front of the line when the attendant told him he needed to go to the agricultural inspection station. And he flipped. He started screaming at the attendant, wondering why he hadn't been alerted to this before. She, of course, took offense to this and got her supervisor. This guy then proceeded to tear her a new hole like he was some kind of over-eager proctologist. Finally he left for the station, and we could hear him the whole way down there. What we didn't hear was that sneaky bastard slipping back in front of the line to check in.

After forty minutes we had moved a whole ten feet forward in line. We had at least another ten feet to go. Then just as the line started to move again, the first class people decided they were ready to check in, and stepped into the priority line, and of course got to check in ahead of us. Now, I know they paid for the privilege of checking in early. But when you're being eyeballed by two-hundred other irritated passengers who have been waiting almost an hour to check in, and knowing that the only thing holding them back from a full on riot and shanking your ass first is a single guy with a firearm and not enough ammo...well, that's gotta be just damned unsettling. Hope it was worth it.

Finally, after almost an hour, we got to the check-in counter. We were hoping to get seats together, but alas, it just wasn't happening. On the plus side Stacey's seat was only two rows and directly ahead of mine. Then came the next big pain in the ass - dropping our luggage off.

We now had to walk all the way past the agriculture station, towards the other end of the terminal to drop off our checked bags for loading and TSA. Of course we had the same problem once again; people who can't figure out to move. Added to this were the special needs passengers who can't figure out how to make a roll-along bag and an additional piece of luggage convey with out looking like they just stepped straight off the short bus. I found once again that asking and being polite wasn't working, but making eye contact, raising eyebrows, keeping a low shoulder, and maintaining momentum did.

Once the bags were dropped it was back to the center of the terminal to clear TSA. I have to say, of all the airports I've been to and had to airline from, Hawaii has the best TSA agents and facilites. They, beleive it or not, were the easiest part of getting to our gate.

Finally, between check-in, bag drop, and TSA we were at the gate, an hour-and-a-half after we had arrived. On the plus side, this meant we only had to wait like fifteen minutes before boarding the US Airways 757-200. Once aboard Stacey and I settled in, and after another forty minutes of waiting, the plane finally pushed back and departed.

Never were we offered anything in compensation for the cluster f--k that was their (US Airways) responsibility. Stacey and I agreed from now on, we'll fly Hawaiian, even if it means added cost. We'll have to route through Honolulu, but the service is so much better, and the amenities superfluous when compared to any other US based airline. Oh, and we'll avoid US Airways like the plague.

I woke up about five hours into the flight, just about the time the sun was coming up.

Nothing like picking up four hours to screw with your head.

I don't know if it's a standard 757 thing, or if we were just fast the whole time, but the spoilers were out for almost the entire descent.

That means they're working.

Once on the ground, we got our bags fairly quickly, got to the economy lot and paid to get our cars out. For me, it was two-hundred-ninety-seven dollars. That's five weeks my car was in there. Thank goodness I get reimbursed for it.

Right where I left you...

We stopped in Flagstaff at Cracker Barrel to have breakfast with my mom and company, and relieve them of the kids. Then we were on to the last stretch of the trip home. This turned out to be the most depressing.

We managed to come back to a full on resicane - high winds, dust, and generally miserable. At times the visibility was down below a half mile from the dust. Even worse is the thought that it's just floating dirt.

It's nature's dermabrasion!

Of course, in some spots there was no blowing dust, mostly cause there isn't anything there at all. There are some places where the word desolate is a understatement, where stretches are devoid of all life.

Seriously, there isn't shit there - click on the picture to enlarge it if you don't beleive me. This is the exact, polar opposite of Kauai.

Finally, about seventeen hours since we dropped the adventuremobile off, we were home. The whole property looked far different than when I left it. But I'll leave that for my next post, when I cover the property and everything else up to that current point.

These Hawaii blogs have been fun to post, but tedious as hell. However, it was totally worth disappearing for four days to decompress and just chill out in paradise.

Totally...

...Freaking...

...Worth...

...It.

Totally.