Day 4

After two days and three nights in the City by the Bay, we prepared for a long day of flying.

But first we attended the optional “Shell Owners Update,” a thinly disguised means of selling more timeshare units, which is offered with every timeshare visit. The incentive, this day, was a $100 USD Visa debit card and a free week of our choice at one of hundreds of timeshare villas in the world. The so-called Update does actually train us in the best use of our timeshare property. However, in exchange, we must listen to an enthusiastic and well-rehearsed sales-talk on the benefits of buying X number of additional shares, tailored to our portfolio and our needs.

In this case, the presenter recommended we buy another fifteen hundred points in Shell Vacation Club properties, at a cost of some $11,000. She, Pamela, did a topnotch job of explaining the many marvelous benefits of same. This would bring us to a total of 7000 annual points and the prestigious level of “Choice” which granted even more goodies. Yes, it would be nice to own more shares. But, there was that little problem of writing a quite large check. Uncertain as to whether our children and grandchildren would really want to inherit this, we opted out, this time. Maybe someday…Sigh.

Promptly at five to eleven, we arrived at the front entrance, dragging our suitcases behind, ready to board the shuttle for SFO where we would catch the airplane for our third leg of this journey, SFO to LAX. Our shuttle was due between 11:00 and 11:15 AM, allowing plenty of leeway for a 2:00 PM flight. By 11:18 AM, starting to worry, Dave approached the doorman for assistance. A quick check of his computer showed that we had no such reservation. Thus alarmed, we summoned the concierge who (we thought) had booked us, on our arrival Friday night. The source of the error was never uncovered. Heated words were exchanged between three hotel employees.

Throughout this time, Dave remained unflappable. After all, experience has revealed that stuff happens, i.e. successful vacationing requires flexibility. After a few tense moments, the Doorman and Bell Captain settled down to work out an alternate means of transportation to the airport.

By God’s grace the streets were less crowded than they were Friday.

Checking in, it stung a bit to fork over another $50 USD to check our bags to Lihue, Hawaii, especially that one suitcase was now patched up with three safety pins. But, why worry, Happy vacationing requires flexibility, don’t you know?

We arrived with time to spare and proceeded to our appointed gate, Number B45, only to note the sign “Flight 1242 to LAX (with connections to LIH) was moved to Gate B41. Easy. No problem. Pick up your luggage and move a few gates away. Plenty of time. On the way, I perused the overhead display which listed all arriving and departing flights. Our flight was listed as “On time,” and leaving from Gate B43. Well, now, that’s real flexibility, isn’t it?

Evidence showed some confusion. Duh!

A totally different flight was arriving at Gate B45. Gate B43 was completely empty, except for one staff person at the counter.

Dave and I approached her to inquire. She knew nothing, however she acted immediately. “Wait here, please,” she offered as she scurried off to confer with the Delta rep at the Gate B41 desk. We watched, in calm repose as the two of them conferred, hurriedly typed on the computer and stared at the screen.

Realizing we were alone, we left our post and moved to Gate B41 where customers filed past the gate and hurried down the walkway, towing their little pull-a-boards behind. Clearly another flight was loading. Not ours. This flight was leaving for LAX, with two empty seats. Uh…er…wait for us!

“The rules do not allow me to permit you onto this flight, sir,” she said. “You have already checked your bags on Flight 1215 right?”

“Well, yeah,” we agreed.

“You cannot fly on a separate flight from your luggage,” she stated, unequivocally—another federal regulation, designed to keep us safe from terrorists. (In addition, we already knew that no passenger can board who has checked in within the last thirty minutes.)

“But…” Dave protested.

Maybe it was his charm and good looks. Umm…on second thought…maybe it was luck, grace, or bending the rules, plain and simple.

After more whirring, pecking and conferring, she changed her mind and pointed out, “If I put you on this plane, you must understand that your luggage will probably not make it onto your flight to Hawaii.”

“I understand,” we chorused, eagerly, knowing we had supplies for two days in our carry-ons.

“But, if you wait for flight 1215 to arrive you will probably not make your Hawaii connection,” she continued.

“When is Flight 1215 leaving?”

“It isn’t even here yet. Probably not until 3:30 PM.”

“Too late,” I said. “Put us on this plane.”

Zoom. Tap-tap-tap. Whirl. Print. “Here are your new boarding passes. Hurry.”

We were the last ones down the walkway. Last to board. Other passengers frowned at us, plainly understanding who had held up the plane.

Off we flew to Los Angeles, relieved, slightly worried but flexible as always.

Mindful of the gigantic size of LAX we wondered: Would we arrive at the correct terminal? Thankfully, yes, not only was it the same terminal, it was the same concourse and not far away.

At last our flight to Lihue was called. Again we had the “Sky Pass” which allowed us to board in second place, right after “Passengers with special needs and families with small children.” Again, we paid extra for the “comfort seats.” This time we also took advantage of the airline’s complimentary offer to ticket our roll-aboard bags, at the gate. We have taken advantage of this option in the past, and always appreciated the freedom—no struggling down the narrow aisle, no heavy lifting. The bags would be waiting from us outside the exit door as we disembarked. More on that later.

Our flight over the ocean was another learning experience. The seats were equipped with personal tablets that lifted out of a secret compartment. In time we managed to learn the finger-tapping and scraping technique required to move through the extensive menu of games, music, movies and entertainment.

As the family computer guru, I was chagrinned to find that my finger didn’t work, whereas Dave’s fat finger was charmed. After an hour or so of borrowing Dave’s magic finger I stumbled upon the secret. For some reason the back of my fingernail worked. Go figure.

Arriving in Lihue, we felt right at home. This place was familiar, but for one change—our carry-ons were not waiting at the exit. “Pick them up at the carousel,” we were told. Darn it! Flexible, again. So much for walking directly to the Hertz rental car.

Onward to the carousel, we waited with the others as bag after bag popped out of a hidden birth canal like so many guppies. Thinking we were done, we grabbed two carry-ons, only to pause in surprise as my checked bag emerged, its tell-tale signature ribbon waving. Well, yeah! Our luck was holding. Minutes later the rumbling stopped. No more bags. Oh-oh, Dave’s didn’t make it. Must have been the safety pins. Did they hold? Or were Dave’s belongings spread all over the bowels of the LAX automatic baggage sorting labyrinth?

Another wait at the baggage agent’s window, fumbling through our stuff to locate the necessary claim check, resulted in another round of tapping on a computer keyboard. Ultimately she looked up. “Your bag is in San Francisco.”

“Oh,” Dave’s voice fell.

“It will arrive in twenty-four hours. Give me your address and phone number, please.”

Dragging our bodies and our stuff, we boarded the last van to Hertz. Another wait. At last, we were settled in our very own rental car, in control again.

After only one or two wrong turns (it was dark), after nine PM, we arrived at Kauai Coast Resort at the Beach Boy.

Check-in went well, except we got the last suite, three stories up, with no elevator. Our other choice was a much smaller studio apartment on the first floor. No bellman was around. Remaining flexible we huffed three heavy bags and miscellaneous small parcels up three flights, reminding ourselves what great exercise this would be for a week.