So I'm waiting for a pulled pork sandwich at a charming place called Stinger Ray's inside the main terminal of the Honolulu International Airport on Sunday when I received a frantic call from my wife. Turns out that our 8:50 p.m. flight from Hawaii to Dallas was boarding an hour early.
I arrived just in time to watch Meredith fold our 6-month-old's stroller and load the last of four 35-pound carry-ons into the overhead. In all my years flying American Airlines, I've never had any issues with planes leaving early, so I knew something strange was going on.
If you've flown with infants before, you know how delighted passengers are to be seated near you. We had just taken our seats in coach when a flight attendant walked toward the back of the plane carrying two glasses of champagne.
This was yet another sign that something wasn't right. American, like most airlines, doesn't believe in making eye contact with passengers in coach, much less serving them free alcohol. As I pondered the situation, the former First Daughter, Chelsea Clinton, was escorted from coach into first class.
I'd read that Clinton was campaigning for her mother on the University of Hawaii campus Saturday, but assumed she traveled on private jets and wasn't using miles like my family.
In case you missed it, 27-year-old Chelsea has been deployed to college campuses across the nation by her mom, in part, because she resembles a college kid. Bill and Hillary Rodham Clinton's only child was trying to rally support in Hawaii after Democratic presidential candidate Barack Obama pulled off yet another brilliant political move: being born in Honolulu.
Clinton's strategy of only trying to win the states people in other countries have heard of has backfired, and Chelsea was kind enough to take leave from a New York hedge fund and spend two days in a state that rarely plays an important role in presidential primaries, but offers gorgeous beaches and $17 pulled pork sandwiches.
Now let's return to my flight with Chelsea Clinton. From the start, I simply wanted her to feel at ease around me. That's why I instructed the guy sitting next to my wife (we'll call him Nate) to hide his copy of Obama's latest book, "Audacity of Hope," each time Clinton walked to the lavatory.
It's the safest I've ever felt on a flight. From what I can tell, the list of passengers included my wife, daughter, in-laws, Nate, Chelsea, her personal assistant and 157 air marshals, all of whom were wearing Hawaiian shirts and staring holes in me when I paused to see what the former first daughter was reading (it had a picture of a Schnauzer on the cover).
To her credit, the only favoritism Chelsea accepted other than being upgraded ahead of me was a large white quilt that looked nothing like my pre-packaged red blanket, which covered portions of my left knee and ankle.
I wanted to discuss the future of blogging with my new pal, but she settled in for a 6-hour nap following two glasses of red wine. Perhaps I'll catch her on another flight someday.
Oh yeah, I'm back from vacation. I take off for the combine Wednesday. It's impossible to express how much I missed you guys, so I won't even try. Remind me to tell you about Cowboys punter Mat McBriar's wedding on Oahu later today.
Us Magazine has offered me $25 for the pictures, but I'm holding out for more. Talk soon.
M
