We have a leisurely start to the day and eventually check out at half eleven. Seeking some small sustenance we head for Starbucks for a particularly leisurely coffee and cakey. We manage to choose a leaving time when a queue for the toilet spontaneously appeared. We stopped at Borders across the car park for Helen to use the facilities. The make the trip authentic she browsed some calendars and decided she would have to buy one later. Why not now?
We decided to head south towards Wailea rather than revisit Lahaina. Reading the guide book as we went it seems this was a rather underdeveloped part of the island until one person started then everyone joined in. The result is `condo-hell' as the book phrased it though if you follow the state highway you don't see any of that. We turned off at Wailea which is a modern well trimmed place. Too neat, and it turns out to be `plush hotel hell,' my phrase.
In between some of the ultra-swish establishments there are small side roads leading to public beaches. After sampling Ulua beach, which was a nice enough beach, its name changed from Tarawa(?) beach as the locals called it after the military used it as a practice for the invasion of the real Tarawa, the developers thought it had the wrong conotations for their new area, we headed further south. It gets a bit indistinct and after a few twists close to the shore we turned round.
We decided to return through Kihue to see condo-hell but it wasn't that scary. Somewhat better than the French Riviera (which isn't saying much) and more eating choice than Kahalui. Driving back we were outside Borders with time on our hands so had another coffee and browse. Overbrowsed, in fact, and rushed down to Ruby's for some good grub. Helen pushing half of her mountain of salad into a doggie bag.
We fuelled up with gas and dropped the car off before subjecting ourselves to the new rigour of Aloha's security. It went quite smoothly this time though Helen had to take off her boots. A common requirement. We squeezed in a couple of games of bao -- Helen seems to have lost her lucky streak -- before boarding the 25 minute flight to Honolulu.
On retrieving our baggage we stripped the flight luggage labels and strode off only to be stopped and asked for our baggage check IDs to make sure we hadn't taken the wrong stuff. That's only the second flight in twenty three flights that that's happened. Still, we got him to tell us where to go next, apparently the domestic terminal is locked overnight.
The United area is throbbing with people, they have scheduled several flights to LA and SF close to one another. We decide to join the throng on the off chance of joining the earlier flight [ours is at 7:00 tomorrow]. This entails the US Dept. of Agriculture inspection first which seems to involve an X-ray machine too. Amazing what you can do with one of them. I assume it can detect our coffee beans are vacuum sealed too. Then the usual crawl through Economy to reach the check-in counter. Except you don't quite, you have to hand your check-in bags to a man who swabs the outside then the inside and passes it through some ion testing machine. Call me cynical but with these new anti-terrorist checks presumably they'd arrest you if they detected traces of other illegal substances that they wouldn't have previously, akin to finding evidence without a search warrant. I don't think they checked inside my rucksack but they did wrap it in a big plastic bag.
In the meanwhile, it's 9:10pm and we're at the desk. We're on the San Francisco flight.
The woman looks confused. At 7am.
I'm sorry, we can't check you in.
Why?
We can only check you in the same day as your flight.
And when did you tell us this? D'oh! We enquire about seats on the 9:30 flight. There's a haunting pause, a check on the computer and a comment about gates closing in five minutes. I have seen another long queue -- hand luggage, presumably -- so I guess the answer was going to be no. Which it was. She did get us a trolley for our luggage, which will have to go through all the checks again tomorrow.
She directs us to a snack bar back along the way. Halfway there a man suggests there's no such thing and send us another way before a second directs us to a vending machine across the car parks. The first set of toilets are closed. Oh dear, we're not having a good time in Honolulu airport.
There is a vending machine but it doesn't take notes. Helen finds a change machine but the vending machine gobbles the money with nothing to show in return. <sigh>
We shuffle back to the United area and start writing journals. As we sat there, three people who had rushed in and straight up to the check-in desk at about 9:05 dejectedly walked back out of the terminal building. I guess they never made it. Around half eleven someone appears somewhat dismayed that United have reunited him with his luggage despite [him] transiting Honolulu. That spoilt his rather more carefree plans. So, we're stuck in an airport with no facilities this side of check-in for the next six hours or so. Lovely.
It does have deafening PA broadcasts every 15 minutes in two languages, twice, telling us not to smoke, leave baggage etc. interrupting the Hawaiian airport music.
Actually, things are worse. Just before midnight we're informed that we're in a restricted area. Obviously. We can go down to lobbies 4 and 5, though. Thanks.
Honolulu Airport, Oahu N21.32946 W157.91501 Elev. 29m
Copyright 2003 Ian Fitchet. All rights reserved.