We took an extremely long flight home yesterday. While I love, love, love the new Hawaiian Airlines direct to JFK option; the flight back to HI is two hours longer than the flight to NY. That means 11 hours (or 10 hours and 36 minutes to be exact) compared to a mere 9 hours. Those extra two hours make a huge difference. After about 9 hours on the plane, all I want to do is cry. I ended up watching a marathon of the TV show Bones to pass the time. I had never watched it before and well, it’s pretty gross. The first episode the plane had featured a giant candy bar with a liquefied human being center. I ended up watching like six episodes of this show. The most I can say is that it kept me from bawling my eyes out for the last two hours on the plane. That is good thing.
While in the airport at JFK, there was this guy in the gate area. He was fair skinned and strawberry blonde. He had on this black cap (yarmulke-like) and these black, what looked like rubber bracelets on his forearm, like almost ten of them. He was bent over a small black book (bible-like). He looked like he was doing some sort of devotions. He was kissing something in his hands and then pressing it to his forehead. He was doing this over and over. I am relatively certain that the only reason he wasn’t reported to airport security by a nervous flyer was because he did not have a stereotypical “terrorist” look, if you know what I’m saying. I figured that maybe he was praying for himself, for the plane. I don’t think he got on our flight.
Our flight took off from JFK with no glitches. Despite the crazy packed airlines these days, there were actually a couple of seats empty on the plane. Once we had attained “cruising” altitude, a girl in our row across the aisle from us raised a stink about the seat that they had put her in. It seemed that she had been the last standby person on the flight and she wanted to move. The flight attendant told her that she should have said something before takeoff. Of course, by waiting till after takeoff this woman was able to achieve her seating goal. Good strategy. All I could think was that Hawaii is not really the place for her.
The new Hawaiian plane to JFK has touch pads for each seat. The seven year old has less patience than most and he was a bit heavy handed when it came to his touch screen. Not crazy pounding but not the lightest touch. The woman whose seat back he was “touching” was a bit on the odd side. She sat with her rain jacket in the seat the entire flight with the seat fully reclined (yay for that). What that meant was that when she felt that my son was touching the touch pad too hard she would throw me a look from in the space in between her reclined seat and the one in front of me. While I talked to my son about not being too hard on the touch pad, I had the impression that she expected me to apologize to her at some point. That kind of irritated me. So I decided that I would not apologize to her for anything. When the plane landed she kept looking at me, expectantly. Yeah, that didn’t happen. Which raises the question, why then, is Hawaii the place for me?
Usually when we leave NY, I am pretty sad. This trip was no different. I usually reserve my crying for when the plane is actually taking off. I think because at that point I have no more stress about travelling back home (you know, driving two hours to JFK, security lines, etc.) Once the plane leaves the ground, the stress and travel anxiety is gone so it is like a release. It didn’t happen this time. Maybe because my son was waiting for it. Timing his crying with mine, knowing that takeoff is my cry time. No, my crying time was at about the nine hour mark. It was the time when I would have given just about anything to get off that damn plane. To not see liquefied humans. To not be getting stink eye. To not be on my way back from a trip to NY that seemed much, much too short.