Poked, probed and prodded...

"This is the flight that dosen't end
No it goes on and on my firends.
Some people started flying it
Not knowing what it was
And they'll continue flying if forever just becuase

This is the flight that dosen't end..."

That lead in quote about sums it up. I left Honolulu at 9:30pm. At the check in counter, the lady told me my luggage was over by 8 lbs. Then when I got done taking some things out, she realized my flight was international, so I could not only put it all back in there, but I'd have another 15lbs to go. Then I repacked it, Then she noticed I was connecting to a smaller flight once in Europe from Germany to Italy. She told me they may only take less weight. I began to unpack again. I took out my shoes, Packed the stuff that was in my shoes into my carry on, and was just going to wear my shoes instead of my slippers. Just then, she realized that since my luggage was going straight through, she could let my luggage stay that heavy. I repacked again.

At the metal detectors, I realized that I should'nt have stuffed that cucumber wraped in tinfoil in my pants...
No, really, I was covered in more metal than robo cop. After removing what I thought was enough, I went through. I didn't pass, so I took off my watch. Failed again. Then I took off my phone holster, failed again. So I got to be lucky enough to get to the side and have Agent Gellyfingers inspect me with his "magic wand". He even went to the extent to take my slippahs and run them through the metal detector after he already wanded them. I was finally off.

I timed it pretty well and got on the plane in good time. Just when I got on and had a free second, I called back Jessica (who gave me a ride to the airport with her visiting family and Anna). She had called me a couple of times while I was getting poked, probed and prodded.

They were lost in Honolulu and coldn't find thier way back to Laie. They asked me to come back out and take a few pics with them...no way. I was already boarded (they don't let you leave and come back) and I couldn't image wanting to go back through the alien medic exploration that was usually reserved for drunk yahoos in the ozarks.

The first flight was from Honolulu to San Fransico. It wasn't bad, the movie was "50 First Dates". The thing I wanted was food. There was none. I had a layover in San Fran and then flew to Atlanta, GA. The layover there was 2 and a half hours. There was a worse movie (Scooby-Doo 2: Monsters Unleashed) which put me to sleep and still no meal. 12 hours into my journey, I hadn't slept much, it wasn't good sleep what I did get, and I still hadn't been feed anything but pretzles.

From Georga to Germany I was not so tired any more. The movie sounded good and the food was provided. The movie, however, never started. They had a malfuntion and none of the inflight entertainment was working. I never noticed how long an 8 hour flight could be with nothing to do. I had my minidisc walkman with me and a book I borrowed from Anuj. I began reading. After a few pages, the light over my head went out. It was an overnight flight, so I was stuck. Apparently, all of the lights on my side of plane were malfuntioning. Instead of just not working, they would ocassionaly flicker. So much for my reading. I sat in my seat, looking into darkness hearing the same songs I was already tired of hearing from previous flights. Atleast the meal was good.

When I arived in Germany, I learned very quickly that Americans are not all that rude, notihng compared to the Germans. I was half tempted to remind the next rude German that it was my country that saved this one. For the following six hours I was fiddling around the airport. I was going to get my luggage, but the lady in Honolulu had put "Rome"on my baggage, and it was being transfered to the Alitalia Airlines flight for me.

Six long and boring hours of discovering more than I wanted to first hand about how Tom Hanks must have felt in the movie "The Terminal", I was off to another country. I arived in Italy on a tacky green colored plane. I stepped off the plane onto the tarmac. We walked to the baggage claim. I waited. Then I waited. Following that, I waited. After almost an hour, the baggage claim was cleared leaving me standing there. My mom, dad and brother Kris, were on the other side waiting and getting scared that I had not made the flight. I went to the desk to inquire about my luggage. Thier English was almost as poor as thier ability to locate my luggage. Since they vaugely understood me, that was not reassuring for my belongings.

I had to get my brothers address and phone number so they could get my luggage to me if it is ever found. I had to cross the line to get the info. After I got it, and calmed the already tense nerves of my mother, I had a heck of a time getting back into baggage claim to talk to the lady at the counter. I once again had the luxury of going through security to get back in, this time in a foreign country that had men with uzzi's greet me off the plane.

The battle for survival continued as I was driving around Rome, hoping to avoid further unjury or loss of personal goods...