"Active loading only please do not leave your vehicle unattended. Non-compliants will result in a parking citation."
~the message that used to play twice every two minutes at the airport
7.18.03 (at OGG waiting for my fight to take off)
I’m sitting on a ledge overlooking a luggage carrier, a few small aircrafts, and every now and then a worker walking beneath me. When I was sixteen this area was prime location to get a party started.
A group of us would pile into our Maui beaters and head to the airport to see a friend off to college. We'd hike up the escalator, pass agriculture inspection and head left toward the higher numbered gates, which were the sure signs you were leaving the islands. Then the fun began.
While waiting for the flight we would talk story and try to find something to ease the departure of a dear friend. One time in particular we decided the wheelchairs should be put too good use. There were three or four of them behind an abandoned ticket counter, and after practicing for a bit, we felt the only thing that seemed fitting was a wheel chair race. The fun would never end because you were with your friends, and although we were watching one leave, we knew soon it would be our turn for the masses to pile in cars and head to the airport party.
Today, as I stood in a ridiculously long line to enter the “secure area” there had to be at least 50 employees “working" for my safety. As I laid my backpack on the conveyor belt and my laptop in a gray bucket, I laughed when an employee told me that my laptop needed further inspection. He ran a circular swab up and down my computer and put in a machine to test for explosives. I wonder, do you think it is possible that instead of checking for explosives he was actually secretly cleaning my computer for my flying convenience? Cleanliness was only a further precaution to insure my safety. So finally after the probing and prodding, I looked down upon the mess while riding the escalator. Little worker ants trying to repair a flaw in the ant hill.
That was the least of my worries. I got off the escalator and looked around at an ever so familiar airport. I scanned the restaurants and the grossly expensive gift shops.... then bam!!! A fucking Starbucks in the Maui airport!!! An outrage! OGG how could you do this to me? Clearly judging by atmosphere it doesn’t belong. It was 85 degrees out! No one wants to by a latte! Now intermingled with various Hawaiian displays showcasing island work a Starbucks! People come to paradise to get away from the hassles of life, right? Paradise was fine without the five-dollar a coffee Starbucks. Maybe a nice Kona Coffee stand with locally grown products. The wonderful wheelchair race my closest friends has turned into a lonely mocha cappuccino with double espresso.
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