Re: Plane Ride to Hawaii

It was long overdue, that trip. One of those getaways you talk about with your girlfriend for too many hectic months in excitement before finally actually doing the thing. ‘Aloha lovely lady, today is the day. Hawaii, here we come!’ I could not wipe the grin off my face as I pushed the braid from her forehead. She was still in bed and it was time to go! We didn’t bother packing. We were going to, but we got wasted dancing under the full moon on the abnormally warm Denver night just hours ago. I think it was between me trying to remember how to do the Macarena and her teaching me how to moonwalk when we decided… ‘Let’s just not pack. Just buy everything we need and want when we get to Hawaii!’ We’re those kind of people. Not careless spenders, but spontaneous and fun. Plus, there was something about traveling with no luggage at all that tickled me, even with a splitting hangover that morning.

Before leaving we downed three edibles each, for the plane ride. Then hopped on the airport shuttle to Denver International. As the sun came over the eastern hills it began to feel like a movie scene. My lady, sitting close beside me, looked like she stepped off the cover of a Playboy Magazine. Absolutely stellar.

She is five ten. We see eye to eye, because so am I. Except...on occasions where she’s in boots, then she’s got me by an inch or so. Her eyes resemble how a skilled artist would depict eyes on a royal princess in one of those painstakingly detailed renaissance paintings. I’ve never seen eyes like hers. They are light brown and they never tire. On occasions where she’s cried, or during a wicked hangover, or even after a thirteen hour drive - they are always the same fiercely penetrating beacons. They never droop or wilter. My girl’s hair is ever changing. Could be green, could be long blonde braids. Perhaps she’s wearing a light brown wig. She’s fun like that. Today, she’s wearing long dark brown braids woven majestically into a bun. She’s a model, a poet, a dancer, and can sing better than you. Way better. I call her doctor. That’s my girl. And on this fine Denver day I was feeling like the luckiest man in the world to be by her side, heading to Hawaii. The edibles were coming on now and Doctor was asleep on my shoulder when we arrived at the airport.

I woke her up with a drawn out, passionate sexual moan, projecting loudly into the natural acoustics of the bus. Instantly the bus fell quiet. There was no mistaking who’d made that noise. I could feel the disapproving stares from the mothers, lawyers, and other squares. I grabbed Doc’s hand as she realised what was happening and we left the bus in a sprint giggling like school children. ‘That’s what your mom sounded like last night babe, I just wanted to reenact it for you.’ I poked at her.

We made quick work through TSA, neither of us are comfortable around people like that. People who’ve got something to prove. People like genital surgeons, dentists, highway patrol officers, and TSA agents. I’ve always quietly wondered whether it is a requirement of the job for a TSA agent to be painfully ugly. Their blue uniforms always stretched to the breaking point. Maybe it’s the physical ramifications of constantly breathing in recycled airport air, spending days fondling travelers they deem to be ‘potential terrorists’ and gawking at titties through hidden security cameras. The TSA checkpoint is always a miserable maze to navigate. God forbid you have a 2.1 ounce tube of toothpaste, or protein powder - which could be cocaine, the ingredients to make a bomb, or perhaps it’s a heinous poison. I’ve tried in multiple countries to steal a laugh from an agent. It never works. Besides, the edibles were in full swing now and we just wanted to get cozy in our first class seats.

We stopped at one of those overpriced airport stores to get supplies for the flight. A family size bag of M and M’s, Flaming Hot Cheetos (those were for Doctor), ten packs of Reese's cups, a sandwich to share, orange juice, Coca Cola, and a bottle of Hennessy. Plus, we picked up five porno magazines, just to see peoples reaction as we pranced around with them and pretended to be deeply involved in reading them as we waited for our plane.

It was a sight to see for sure, us in that busy airport. A stunningly beautiful woman, dressed to the nines, looking like she’s off to Bali for a photoshoot. And next to her, a man with hair flying in every direction wearing a deep blue shirt with a fluorescent peacock printed boldly on the front; looking as if he lost his surfboard many years ago and never stopped searching for it. Their eyes both red as Heinz ketchup. In their hands is enough candy to make ten men sick, a bunch of porno mags and they’re flaunting a bottle of hennessy. But one does not stow away a bottle of Hennessy, it requires flaunting. And we did.

By the time we got on the plane we were buzzed, but respectfully so. We’d gotten bored fishing for reactions with the porno mags and began making out like middle schoolers to see if that would piss off the gang of middle-aged golfers that kept staring at us. Mostly though, I was just enjoying kissing my lady, taking breaks to sip Hennessy. What the hell were they looking at? Weirdos.

We found our seats. 1A and 1B, right at the front. I remember when I booked the flight that was important to me. I’d never flown first class before and wondered if it would feel like we were piloting the plane being that far towards the front. ‘Ah, here we are babe. Sure am glad we don’t have to walk all the way to the back of the plane where the peasants sit. Sure would be a long flight without any legroom.’ I said obnoxiously because the golfers were still in ear shot. ‘Here you take 1A because you're my A1 baby.’ I like being corny with my girl. It makes her smile. Plus, I was feeling on top of the world at this point. First class tickets to Hawaii with my lady. Life is so sweet sometimes.

‘Hey babe, put your sunglasses on for a second.’ I said.

‘Why.’ She asked.

‘You’ll see.’ I said confidently, concealing my linner giddiness.

The stewardess was just about to start checking for seablets. As she approached I said in a crude Boston accent, ‘Excuse me Miss, my girlfriend here, she’s blind - as you can see. You wouldn’t happen to have any movies for the legally blind would ya?’

She had the shape of a former college linebacker who had never made it to the big league. Sort of a Grizzly bear shaped women whose hips smooshed up against either seat as she stood in the isle.

‘Oh, boy, we got a funny one up here today.’ She said sternly but hinting at a smile showing I hadn’t totally annoyed her. ‘Ya’ll gonna want a menu?’

My girlfriend hit my arm lightly but was giggling in the beautiful way she does when I’ve made a legitimately funny joke.

‘Yes Ma’am, two menus please, we’re starving.’

The stewardess, Camilla - I saw her nametag - looked at the stash of candy and porno mags on my lap and shook her head like a mother does to a child. ‘Y'all are a riot.’ She said handing two menus over to us.

In fact, neither of us was hungry. But we were first class passengers that day and you better believe we were going to live it up. I put the warm white first class hand towel on top of my head, wondering why the airline provides those silly things.

‘Flight attendants, prepare for take off.’ Said a graveled voice over the intercom.

I reached over to 1A and grabbed my girl's hand. ‘Yeeeeeee Haw, ready baby?!’ I belted out hoping the golfers could here. ‘This is my favorite part of the ride, takeoff!’ I said this while kicking my feet out parallel to the ground and throwing my hands in the air rollercoaster style.

As we sped down the runway I started moaning, softly. Then my girl joined in a bit louder. Then me again. ‘Uhhhhhh. Oh my god, I’m close.’ I said just before liftoff. Then as we became airborn my girl let out an aggressive, ‘Ohhhhhhhhhhh.’ Then we both started breathing heavily. I’m sure by this point that anybody in earshot of us was annoyed, if not disgusted and confused. But we were in the two best seats of this airplane and they were not. They were behind us and there was no reason to look back and kill our vibe. We were busy piloting the plane!

We had already worked our way through most of the candy by the time Camila came back to take our orders for dinner. ‘I’ll have the New York steak, please.’ I said in a poor English schoolboy accent. I had no trouble putting in a good performance and neither did my girl as she echoed the accent. ‘For me kind lady, the Atlantic salmon, and do make sure it’s not undercooked.’ ‘And!’ I added, ‘A bottle of your finest Merlot. And do please make sure it’s your finest. My girl and I are wine critics and expect the wine to swim around our mouth holes like a virgin mermaid.’ Camila raised her left eyebrow. ‘Wine critics now, are ya. And British, suddenly.’ She laughed as she made her way to the next row.

Over dinner we talked about what we wanted to do when we got to Hawaii. We had made no prior reservations, apart from securing a jet black 4x4 Jeep for our stay. ‘Let’s find a beachfront Airbnb babe, I want to make sweet love to you while the sun sets over the Pacific.’ I said with a cheeky grin. ‘Sex?’ My girl asked loudly. ‘You want to have sexual relations with me?’ She said smiling ear to ear. ‘Yes, and not just once.’ I confirmed. ‘Deal.’ she said. ‘We should go paragliding. Maybe we can do it off the top of one of the massive volcanoes.’ She offered. ‘Hell, yes.’ I agreed. ‘Let’s find some off roading and drive as fast as we can until we find a parrot. Then we’ll see if we can get it to cuss at us.’ I countered. My girl and I like dreaming like this. We make dreams come true.

My steak was overcooked, but the Merlot made up for it. I’m not much of a wine guy, but I could tell the winemaker took proper care to age this wine correctly. Brand new oak barrels, I was sure of it. It probably came from a fancy gravity flow winery where the harvest workers are forced to hand sort through the grapes before they’re dumped into the tanks.

A mixture of Hennessy, candy, steak, wine, and the hottie sitting in 1A distracting me, had caused me to lose my sense of time as we continued jetting over the South-Pacific. Camila was nearby so I said in a heavy eastern Ukrainian accent, ‘How close izzz we to destination, Camila.’ She was over my antics now and said crossly, ‘Close, half-hour. Sit tight.’ ‘Camila, I izzz enjoying my trip very much. Just one problem.’ I continued in my best eastern Ukrainian. ‘Me and my lady friend izz hot. Possible to roll window down, for moment?’

‘Your teachers must have loved you as a kid, huh?’ She said cracking a brief smile as she went back to sit down.

‘Well, we're just about there babe. You remember how to land this big hunk of metal? There’s a plane full of passengers relying on us!’ I said as I placed my hand on her upper thigh. I pulled her close and gave her a real nice and wet kiss. Not one of those clean romantic kisses. By now I was not elegantly drunk. Just drunk drunk. But, so was my girl and she returned the wet sloppy kiss.

‘Flight attendants, prepare for landing.’ Came the voice of the tired pilot over the intercom.

‘Uhhhh, landing. Here weeee go.’ I moaned. That joke is childish, but never fails to be fun. I think my girl agrees because she responded with a well practiced, ‘Uhhhhhh, yes, againnnnnnn!’ Drawing out the ‘again’ for many hilarious seconds.

Landing was a bumpy success. And so was the plane ride. Being first class citizens, in 1A and 1B no less, we departed the plane first and entered the humid island air in a Jack Sparrow stumble. Thankfully we had no luggage to worry about. We grabbed each other's arms for support as we zig zagged drunk and care-free on the journey to the first class lounge to take a nap. The feeling I had on that evening gliding to the first class lounge in Hawaii, with the most beautiful girl in the world gripping my arm is one out of a dream. A feeling so pure and euphoric in retrospect that it is amazing to think I lived it. A tough feeling tough to find words to adequately describe. Like injecting a pure dose of ecstasy into your heart cavity and floating on a mellow, warm wave towards the pearly gates knowing I’d done something very right in life to be in that place with that girl. Hawaii was ours.