Airport Shenanigans
Rolan L. Parscal
Waves of Okinawa lit up like glass withholding a grand display. Sands warm and soft to touch sparkle like diamonds on a ring. Ladies with black hair and toned bodies chiseled like Greek statues move around the beach as though the world was perfect. The men with muscles showing every striation without attempting and skin reflecting the sunset of the beautiful coast. On Nishi pier vendors lined up as far as my readers would allow me to see. Their fruits were plump, moist, and juicy, sights only shadowing the smells that procured from the sea, stir fried noodles, and various perfumes from tourists and locals alike. The roads are neatly aligned with palm trees protruding from the ground in perfect symmetry as though this place were aware it is heaven. Smiles and flip flops on every person, stringy shirts and revealing tops as casual as Fridays. Aged vehicles and their young drivers reflect a spirit of youth in older couples. Everything so kind to the spirit of a vacation, any couple would hold their breath to an opportunity of Japan's little heaven. I flip through the magazine's pages and find myself upon the night city of Naha. Little people tightly gripping those much taller themselves fearing getting lost in the soft lights in the streets and the exciting lights of the stores. A sleepy sky battled by the much livelier inhabitants unable to focus on which adventure to partake in. Eccentric outfits guard their store fronts shouting for people to invade them. Everything perfect like a late Japanese anime it reminds me of...
“Honey! Honey! We Missed Our Flight!”
I look up from my magazine in not such a subtle horror, “WE WHAT!? My watch says it’s still 6: 45 a.m.?”
“Well, your watch is wrong damnit! Our gate is 7A and does it say Okinawa? No, dumbass it says Hawaii.”
“WELL JEEZ! leave it up to you for the nagging. Maybe we are just at the wrong gate.” She shoves the ticket to my face like she wanted me to eat it and proceeds with the mean remarks.
“I stood in line for the desk making sure that everything is correct, while you were drooling over food on a printed paper.”
While actively cleaning my face with a limp wrist I had the gall to say, “I wasn’t drooling over food you jerk; I was looking at the excursions.”
“Well, there won't be many excursions, because our plane left without us you monkey.” Said this as she was waving around the pamphlet I committed to reading but never actually got to that part.
“This isn't some kind of cruel joke, right?”
“No.” she said void of passion and believing she was married to an idiot.
“We missed our flight... FUCK!” Every person in ear shot snapped their heads to me like I was some terrorist and the kind lady next to me interjected that a child was present. “Oh god, the fruit, the noodles, my fishing trip, it's all gone!” Me and my wife proceeded to voice our anger toward each other (at a whisper of course there were kids around, and who I assume is named Karen left me aware of that). Suddenly an angel flew down from a neon light which read ‘HELP DESK’ with a halo of cheap hairspray, and dark circles under her eyes.
“Ma’am, I am very sorry for the inconvenience I gave you the wrong flight tickets. You lovely couple are gate 7A”. She handed us our tickets and I read them with great confusion. I turned my head slowly and vainly towards my ‘master’ thinking how long I may use this as leverage. “Though the boarding for your flight isn't till 7 p.m.” the kind help desk lady begrudgingly added. Of course, my lovely wife turned her head slowly and vainly towards her ‘dog’ thinking how long she may use this as leverage.
“Whoops, sorry honey I didn’t mean too...”
“Shut up, it's okay as long as you don’t talk until our flight.” I nodded my head in relief knowing that I didn’t mess up royally but shut my mouth deflatingly knowing of the ass chewing I will receive from her in the near future. I’ll give it five minutes till I tell her which restaurant I want to try first.
“Honey! Honey! We Missed Our Flight!”
I look up from my magazine in not such a subtle horror, “WE WHAT!? My watch says it’s still 6: 45 a.m.?”
“Well, your watch is wrong damnit! Our gate is 7A and does it say Okinawa? No, dumbass it says Hawaii.”
“WELL JEEZ! leave it up to you for the nagging. Maybe we are just at the wrong gate.” She shoves the ticket to my face like she wanted me to eat it and proceeds with the mean remarks.
“I stood in line for the desk making sure that everything is correct, while you were drooling over food on a printed paper.”
While actively cleaning my face with a limp wrist I had the gall to say, “I wasn’t drooling over food you jerk; I was looking at the excursions.”
“Well, there won't be many excursions, because our plane left without us you monkey.” Said this as she was waving around the pamphlet I committed to reading but never actually got to that part.
“This isn't some kind of cruel joke, right?”
“No.” she said void of passion and believing she was married to an idiot.
“We missed our flight... FUCK!” Every person in ear shot snapped their heads to me like I was some terrorist and the kind lady next to me interjected that a child was present. “Oh god, the fruit, the noodles, my fishing trip, it's all gone!” Me and my wife proceeded to voice our anger toward each other (at a whisper of course there were kids around, and who I assume is named Karen left me aware of that). Suddenly an angel flew down from a neon light which read ‘HELP DESK’ with a halo of cheap hairspray, and dark circles under her eyes.
“Ma’am, I am very sorry for the inconvenience I gave you the wrong flight tickets. You lovely couple are gate 7A”. She handed us our tickets and I read them with great confusion. I turned my head slowly and vainly towards my ‘master’ thinking how long I may use this as leverage. “Though the boarding for your flight isn't till 7 p.m.” the kind help desk lady begrudgingly added. Of course, my lovely wife turned her head slowly and vainly towards her ‘dog’ thinking how long she may use this as leverage.
“Whoops, sorry honey I didn’t mean too...”
“Shut up, it's okay as long as you don’t talk until our flight.” I nodded my head in relief knowing that I didn’t mess up royally but shut my mouth deflatingly knowing of the ass chewing I will receive from her in the near future. I’ll give it five minutes till I tell her which restaurant I want to try first.
Rolan Parscal is from Denver, Colorado, born and raised. Moving to Pensacola, Florida joining the Coast Guard reserve program and attending University of West Florida. Chasing an MBA in International shipping logistics and a minor in Korean. I want to move to Korea that is my life goal.