Setting one’s alarm clock for three o’clock in the morning is always a horrifying experience. There are many weekend nights when three in the morning means it’s time to go to bed, not time to get out of it. In fact, I think it’s safe to say that about the only thing which could drag me out of bed at that hour is either a fire, or a trip to Hawaii. Thankfully, the reason for today’s early start is the latter. It’s my honeymoon, and my beautiful wife and I are headed for a tiny tropical paradise in the middle of the Pacific. To say that we’re excited is an understatement.
So after a bleary-eyed awakening and quick showers, Charlotte and I are on our way. We’d called a car the night before, and it meets us outside at four o’clock. A relatively quick and peaceful ride later (not a lot of cars on the roads at four, even in Brooklyn), and we’re at JFK, queued up in the security line and preparing to subject ourselves to the completely worthless screening process that’s supposed to save us from terrorists, but really just serves to lull us all into the proper sheep-like state by presenting the illusion of safety. Not that I’m bitter.
Security doesn’t go badly, and we’re through rather rapidly. We hit the only open cafe in JFK at 4:45 in the morning: a place called Europan. Charlotte gets a hot chocolate and biscotti. I get an iced coffee and an oatmeal cookie. Breakfast of champions.
Charlotte’s still a member of the American Airline’s Admiral’s Club for another couple of months, so we head up to their lounge, where we discover that we could’ve had free coffee and bagels. Also trail mix. That’s ok though. It’s still nice, with big comfy chairs and a serious lack of noise. We’re joined by only a few other people, nearly all of whom, as it turns out, are on the same flight that we are. We see them again on the plane — we were able to score business class tickets using Charlotte’s miles, so we’re rocking the big, comfy seats with individual footrests, duvets, and gigantic pillows.
It’s now 6am Eastern, and we’re about to get rolling. I almost never get the chance to fly anything but coach, and normally I’d be all about enjoying every aspect of business class, but all I care about right now is how far the seat can recline, and about getting some Ambien into me and Charlotte to knock us out, so we’re not walking zombies during the entire day we have to spend at LAX. Charlotte’s asleep in minutes. I’m not far behind. By the time we wake up, we’re over the Rockies and we’ve missed the breakfast service. Somehow I can’t bring myself to be too distraught. Until mankind invents teleportation, sleeping through most of a five-and-a-half hour flight may be the next best thing.
We hit LAX and debark, heading again for the Admiral’s Club. This one is arguably even swankier than the one at JFK, and we help ourselves to some coffee and juice. Also trail mix — hey, what the hell, it’s free right? Then we get in touch with our friends Dave and Crystal, who live about an hour away in Orange County. Dave’s not able to make it up, but Crystal is down for lunch and says she’ll call when she gets to the airport. Charlotte and I managed to get ourselves bumped from the 7:35 flight to the 5:30 flight. Sweet! Two less hours at the airport, and we’ll end up in Honolulu at ten, their time, instead of midnight. Now there’s nothing left to do but relax until Crystal shows up. We chill near the bar, watching golf and horse racing because that’s what’s on, until she calls us.
Catching up is great — We haven’t seen Crystal in a couple of years, and I definitely wish I could get out to California more often. We grab lunch at the crazy 60′s-era restaurant in the middle of LAX. The food is good, and we spend most of the time telling stories and laughing. It’s a nice break from being stuck inside the airport, which can get dull even when you have access to a nice club. Eventually lunch ends, and Crystal heads out. Charlotte and I go back through security, and into the terminal.
And so here we are, waiting for our connecting flight by hanging out on ye olde internet, back in the Admiral’s Club. Not too much else to report. I expect and hope that the flight to Honolulu will be uneventful. Once we’re there, we’ll probably head straight to the hotel and crash. It will, after all, be about five in the morning, back on the east coast.
The next time you hear from me, it’ll be from Waikiki beach!
