It was ten minutes after five when the plane took off from Oakland.
The direction was west. – into the setting sun.
The sunset was spectacular – not just because of it’s duration (over two hours) but also because it produced a band above the horizon starting with a dark red-almost a purple – to a yellowish orange. In between, multiple shades of red and orange were on display. It was suspended in time as it it were. Flying directly west tends to do that. A kind of a time machine – chasing the past, but never quite catching up. My cell phone battery is dead. I cannot take a picture! No place to plug it in. But this photo is one I took on a previous trip that shows a similar sunset.
I was heading to Kona, and Na’alehu, once again.
Arriving at the airport in Phoenix, just a few minutes before 1 pm, I left my two suitcases – stuffed to the gills with tools I would need in Hawaii, both weighing well over 45 lbs but under the 50 lb limit – with the skycap at the curb. Arriving at the TSA security checkpoint to find no line at all.
As I sit at the gate waiting to board the plane, a woman approaches me and asks, “Do you have 5 minutes to answer a survey?” I immediately thought of that line in the song “Uneasy Rider” by Charlie Daniels that goes: “And I didn’t bother to tell the durn fool that I sure as hell didn’t have anyplace else to go…” so why not? The survey was about my experience at the airport so far today, along with the typical demographics –
What time did I get to the airport, Did someone drop me off? or did I use public transport? How long did it take to get through security? Did I buy my ticket on line? how long ago? On a scale of 1-5, how would I rate the comfort at the gate waiting area? How would I rate the cleanliness of the airport? And then the kicker – How would I rate the City of Phoenix’s response to keeping people safe from the corona virus?
“Well, now you’ve gone and gotten a bit political with that question,” I said. She smiled – at least, I think she did. It looked like her eyes smiled. I could not see her mouth, as she was wearing a mask to cover her mouth and her nose as per Federal Guidelines.
I continued, “That would be like asking how well the City of Phoenix is protecting the citizens from the ravages of the Apache Indians.” She actually laughed out loud. I explained, “All things considered, I guess the city is doing everything that can be done.”
She thanked me for helping her with the survey and wished me a good afternoon. I watched her as she walked out into the crowded hallway where “social distancing” was a pipe dream, and she was turned down by four other people to participate in her survey. I thought back about the qualifying demographic questions she asked: My age group, education level, number of flights I had taken in the last 12 months, did they all originate in Phoenix as round trips, what is my current destination, how long will I be gone, and then she asked – “Did you come to the airport straight from Scottsdale?”
I was wearing a pair of black jeans, a gray tee shirt, and old tennis shoes. Nothing that would indicate that I was from Scottsdale. I wanted to ask her how she knew I was from Scottsdale, and if she found people to be less receptive than usual to participate in her survey since the pandemic, but she disappeared in the crowd.
From the number of people in the walkway, I would think that the reports that people are not traveling as much because of the pandemic are not fully accurate – but yet – as we drive to the airport, there were a dozen or so American Airlines airplanes parked off to the side of the airport with covers over the engines. As we taxiied to take off in Oakland, there were another 16 or so from Southwest, Alaska, and others.
It is getting darker – the light is fading outside the plane window and the sunset band that extends all the way across the horizon is a darker shade; but it is still there.
The flight from Phoenix to Oakland was totally full – every seat was occupied – and yet, the idea of “social distancing” was still stressed – such hypocracy! The flight from Oakland to Kona is less than 1/2 full. “Good afternoon, Ladies and Gentlemen. Your flight number 1286 from Oakland to Kona is expected to be less than 1/2 full” a gate agent announced over the intercom. “So there will be plenty of room for you to observe social distancing of 6 feet while on board.” Then as we were getting ready to board, a different gate agent reminded us, “Every passenger is limited to one small carry on and one smaller personal item that will fit under the seat in front of you” she announced over the loudspeaker. “women with a large purse will need to condense their items and we will be happy to check your oversized bags here at the gate to your final destination.”
Why?
Why the limits?
Especially if the plane is less than 1/2 full?
There should be plenty of space in the overhead bins.
Control!
Because those are the rules! And she is going to make sure that every one else follows the rules! No logic involved. No logic allowed! No room for thinking! Just do as you are told!
The sunset band is shrinking. Very slowly, but it is getting smaller, and as it fades, it is getting a darker shade of red and orange. I wish my cell phone had some charge in it so I could take a picture.
They have handed out the Agriculture form. We have filled them out. One per family. Declare what fruits and vegetables or agricultural items you are bringing into Hawaii. . . or else! Again, I wonder if anyone ever looks at them after the airlines collect them and turn them in to the State Government. Even with the pandemic, the shear volume would be staggering.
I felt the engines decrease power and the plane has begun the slow descent as we approach the islands. Soon we will be landing and I will have to deal with the bureaucracy. I have my negative covid test results and my QR code from the Hawaii Travels website so it should be fairly simple.
It is dark as we land in Kona. Really dark. The few lights on in the terminal do not quite reach out to the plane, but there is just enough light on the portable ramp for us to see to exit the plane. The terminal looks deserted. Stanchions with those retractable ribbons direct one path only from the plane into the central area of the once upon a time welcoming terminal. Now it is unwelcoming and forbidding. A mechanical voice says, “Have your government issued ID, your QR code from the Hawaii Travels website, and your negative covid test available.” Gone are the days of Aloha, and a lei greeting!
Check point number 1 – government ID checked.
Check point number 2 – QR code scanned into a tablet by a Hawaii government worker.
Check point number 3 – Negative covid test results verified -or at least looked at.
Check point number 4 – A teenager in a surgical costume complete with surgical mask, blue plastic gloves, clear plastic face shield stands behind a folding table. He probably even had on those paper shoe coverings as well to complete the outfit. On the table is a clipboard with a stack of papers attached, each one a duplitate of the one on top – a form to be filled out – Name, address, email address, phone number, where are you staying while in Hawaii, any symptoms of any type of illness, names of all those in your group. I fill out the form. The teenager proceeds to hand me a swab for me to do a covid test. After twisting the cotton swab in both nostrils, he tells me that I may now go. If the test is positive, they will call me within 24 hours and I will have to come back to the airport for further testing and possibly quarantine. I didn’t bother to tell “the durn fool” that my cell phone battery was dead and would stay that way for the next two or three days – on purpose.
As I walked away, I wondered if anyone could remember when you were greeted in Hawaii with a flower lei and a slight peck on the cheek! Instead, I recall the third voyage of Captain Cook to the Hawaiian Islands where he and his group were greeted with rocks and Captain Cook was killed in Kealakekua Bay.
TropicalCastaway 