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Front Porch: Swimsuit wasn’t the only vacation miracle

My most recent column was written the day we returned from Hawaii, and in my post-vacation fog, I forgot to include some important information.

Thankfully, I have readers who aren’t shy about reminding me. Last week, I received this two-sentence email.

“Nice column. BUT WHAT ABOUT THE SWIMSUIT?”

Ah, yes. Did my Miraclesuit arrive in time? Or did I wear my mother’s conical cup contraption on the beach at Waikiki?

The answers to those uplifting questions soon, but first I should tell you I almost spent my 30th wedding anniversary alone.

Since I’ve planned and organized every vacation for the past three decades, this time I decided to let Derek enjoy the fun of trip-planning.

I didn’t know his idea of fun would involve catching a 5:45 a.m. flight out of Spokane. Thousands of Spokesman-Review readers, Facebook friends, and Twitter followers know I am not a morning person, but my husband still seems surprised by this information.

“I also booked the redeye home,” he said. “This way we’ll maximize our beach time!”

When my alarm rang at 3:45 a.m. on the morning of our departure, beaches were the last thing on my mind. Nevertheless, our son got us to airport in plenty of time for our flight. Or so I thought. It turns out he got me there in plenty of time, Derek was another story.

I’ve flown quite a bit this year due to author appearances and workshop events. As a result, I’ve been blessed with TSA’s expedited check-out. No more line-waiting, shoe-removal delays for me!

Derek doesn’t have pre-check. We stared in dismay at what looked to be 1,199 early-bird passengers glumly waiting at the TSA checkpoint. There were four people ahead of me in the pre-check line.

“No worries,” I told Derek. “I’ll go ahead and find out where our gate is and text you.”

I zipped through the line, bought some coffee, found our gate and waited. And waited. And waited. I started texting when the plane began boarding. No reply.

The waiting area emptied, until only I remained.

I pleaded with the gate attendant.

“Please!” I said. “He’s on the way! It’s our anniversary! Please just a couple more minutes.”

She sighed.

Finally my phone buzzed. It was Derek. I can’t repeat what the text said, but the upshot is that he was on the way.

“Does he have time to put on his shoes?” I asked.

“Not if he wants to be on this flight,” the gate attendant replied.

A few minutes later I spotted Derek, sandals in hand, hurrying toward the gate.

Our flight to Hawaii was uneventful. We hopped aboard a shuttle and were at our hotel before noon. This turned out to be a problem because our room wasn’t available until 3 p.m.

We left our luggage at the front desk and explored the resort a bit – even ventured to the beach, but that 3:45 AM wake-up had us beat.

As I unpacked our bags in our room, I said, “Maybe next time we could fly out a bit later.”

No answer. Derek was sprawled across the bed, sound asleep.

Our time on the island was wonderful, and since Derek had booked the redeye flight home, we had an extra day to sightsee.

In theory, we were to leave Honolulu at 10:30 p.m., sleep all night and arrive home at 8:45 a.m.

That theory proved faulty as we soon discovered neither of us has the ability to sleep on a plane.

Sometime in the night, our plane encountered headwinds which put our flight behind schedule. We arrived at SeaTac with 10 minutes to meet our connecting flight. We got to the gate with nine minutes to spare, but the boarding agent had left the area and another agent we grabbed wouldn’t let us board. Did I mention there were 15 of us scheduled to board the plane that sat tantalizingly on the runway?

I then got a great workout doing the airport sprint. Wearing a sundress and flip flops, I dashed from one counter to the next trying to find out which flight we’d booked on. Two tram rides later, we were once again the last passengers to board a flight.

We arrived in snow-dusted Spokane, and I lugged my bags to our bedroom and found a package on our bed. It was my Miraclesuit. According to our son it arrived the day we left. Thankfully, I’d found a suit in Hawaii an hour after our arrival.

I’d brought Mom’s suit, just in case and I did wear it poolside – but not in the ocean. I was afraid the added buoyancy of those foam-filled cups would cause me to float out to sea.

Our Hawaiian adventure was worth swimsuit shopping and travel stress. In fact, we’re already planning another trip – especially now that I have a Miraclesuit.

The next miracle I’m hoping for is a hassle free-flight.

Contact Cindy Hval at dchval@juno.com. She is the author of “War Bonds: Love Stories From the Greatest Generation.” Her previous columns are available online at spokesman.com/ columnists. Follow her on Twitter at @CindyHval.

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