The adventure home was just that... and adventure.
Once on the plane I immediately felt a cold coming on.....why? I was breathing a whole other type of air....air conditioned, non humid air. Crazy, huh!?
We arrived in Hawaii on time, and I knew I would have to hustle to make my connection to LA. Once getting through customs, I had to collect my luggage and re-check them. After waiting....and waiting....and waiting....I was uber stressed. The time until my next flight's departure was ticking away, and no sign of my bags. A group of us with connecting flights were all standing next to the carousel, waiting for our bags to come around, and muttering frustrations to one another. Finally I went to the other side of the baggage claim area and what did I find? A huge section of luggage. An airport worker had moved bags to another area without telling anyone. This meant that about a quarter of the plan was waiting...and waiting...and waiting...clueless to the fact that they had moved our bags elsewhere. Steaming mad I moved to the line to re-check the bags. Airports should be a place of haste with people eagerly trying to make their way to their final destination...But no. The two workers searching each bag were moving at a snails pace and carrying on casual conversations with each traveler. Argh! I quickly lost my Samoan cool and was extremely anxious and stressed! (Funny how stepping foot on American soil does that to you.) With 30 minutes until my flight was supposed to leave, the lady handling my bags finally passed them along.
This is where I realized that the Hawaii airport is the most retarded place on Earth. With no signs guiding the way I made my way upstairs to the security area. Guess what I find!? A line. A big, long, evil line. 20 minutes to go. After getting to security I tell the agent about my situation and ask if he can call ahead to my gate and tell them I'm coming. He says he will. Hope is in sight but the departure gate screens are not. I have to run for what seemed a million miles to the screens that list my gate info, and then I have to run around the airport to get to my gate. Fabulous. I only have a 40 lb backpack that is half my size on, as well as a bulging tote. Why can't I travel light?! In the distance I see my gate. I see my plane. A small bit of hope is restored, but I look like a crazy idiot as I run as fast as possible with my massive carry-ons. I reach my gate, and they won't let me on. I see the plane. It's sitting right there! They won't let me on! Tears form as they tell me to hold on. I feel like crap and I just want to get back home. It takes every bit of will power not to break down as I call my dad and tell him about the situation. An agent comes to help me re-route my flights. In my mind I think they won't be able to get me out of the airport until the Honolulu-Houston flight at 7 pm....it's 6 am.... I might murder someone. The agent works some kind of crazy magic and asks me if I'm ready to run. Heck ya I am! We run down a few more gates. She hands me a few tickets and tells me to get on. Wheeww! I finally look at my tickets to see where I'm headed: Honolulu-Chicago-Houston. And I'm only arriving 2 hours later than originally planned. Sweetness! I have just enough time to call home one more time and give them my new flight info. Once arriving in Chicago I walk to my gate and immediately board. I'm in the clear at last! 11:30 pm Friday night and I'm in Houston. I'm sniffling like crazy because of the magical invention of air conditioning, but I'm in Houston.
