First Class to Fiji

The Travel Gods threw us our first jump ball. We arrived at the Honolulu airport two hours early for our dawn-break flight to Nadi, Fiji—a fortuitous layover location for our passage to Auckland. After twenty “Hawaiian minutes” in queue we learned our aircraft had been diverted to Samoa. I then learned that Samoan aircraft diversions rank highly among the things that make Jeannie squirm. Something about an airplane making an unexpected landing—even though I’m quite sure it arrived without trouble—on a South Pacific airstrip can be rather unnerving. Our stopover on the island nation was scheduled to last two hours, with a New Zealand bound flight departing in the early afternoon. We were derailed by the Samoa situation.

Presented with our first mishap, we looked at each other with adventurous smiles. Our nervous grins grew larger when the Air Pacific attendant informed us that flights leave for New Zealand daily—once daily, to be precise. And just like that, the potential for adding a 24th country to the itinerary was in our laps. So Jeannie, as is customary when presented with a challenge, took the wheel and determined to make our inaugural international day a bit more memorable. Three hours later, our plane arrived at the gate. As we descended the jetway, Jeannie dipped into her carry-on and produced a shiny tiara, beaded with plastic pink stones, and completed by a two-foot white veil—the merchandise of a new bride. When she dons it I’m not sure what shines more, the reflective heart-shaped center piece or the bared teeth beneath her upturned lips. The headdress screams, “Upgrade Me!” And naturally, that is exactly what happened.

The ensuing flight was most certainly the most delightful of my avian career. Larry, our Fijian attendant, provided service fit for royalty. Champagne, followed by coffee, coconut muffins, tropical fruit, yogurt, omelets, French toast, champagne, chicken sausage, hash browns, cookies, tea, Cassava snacks, guava juice, and finally champagne—all while the vast expanse of the South Pacific passed underneath, dotted by the kind of clouds that make a mariner rejoice in equatorial weather.

When we expressed our gratitude and offered countless vinakas (Fijian for “thank you”), Larry informed us that of the eight first class chairs, five had been booked for catering. Only three passengers showed up, leaving all of the trimmings for two more fortunate souls. He smiled, pointed to the sky, and said, “somebody’s watching.” I looked at Jeannie, who said, “I wonder who that is…” with the smiling eyes of a knowing wife.