Your friend Dunstan who got the tickets

As you step off the long-term parking shuttle at the Hula Airways ticketing area, you immediately hear the sounds of your trip calling you. Not the lazy steel strings of the slack-key Hawaiian guitar, but raucous, joyful shouts.

"John! John, my man! You made it, I thought your boss was gonna whip you down like last time! We're goin' to Ha-fuckin'-wai-eee, woo-hoo!"

Bouncing like Tigger on a sugar high, your...guess you got to call him friend...Dunstan, is madly waving a sheaf of travel documents as he runs up toward you. "Gotta get you checked in, man", he says. He hustles your bags toward the first-class check-in aisle. "Not gonna miss THIS flight!" He holds his hand out to you. "Pocketknife," he says. You hand it over, and he sticks it in one of your suitcase pockets.

You're glad Dunstan is hustling you through. You're falling into your usual airport disorientation, amplified by the late hour and the long work week. Something about the tall ceilings and floodlights and echoing PA system, the smell of synthetic rubber and Jet-A tends to scramble your usually firm grip on reality when you're in an airport. It's cost you more than one missed flight. And more than one Swiss Army Knife.

"Man, I had to call in a couple of favors to get the first class upgrade," Dunstan says, "but it's way worth it for the long flight. And the first-class uniforms are two inches shorter!" he said, laughing.

"Guess you ought to know," you say. "Good choice." Dunstan had been working as a flight attendant for several years now. So if you'd ever needed to go to Minneapolis or Atlanta, you could have had a free pass. His airline didn't go to Hawaii, so it had taken a bit to swing this trip.

"Don't you know it, Mr. Tibbs. Trust your buddy Snags to go first class," he said. People used to tease him by calling him Snagglepuss after the dandyish cartoon panther, because he'd always dressed well, and because in an argument, he'd start sounding really nit-picky and his voice would get high. He called you "Mr. Tibbs" after the sheriff on "In The Heat of the Night" because you had a low voice and if you were in an argument, you got really serious and your voice got lower.

Soon you're checked in and headed for the mercifully short security line.

You met Dunstan in high school, where he was one of the drama kids. He did some acting, but spent most of his time building sets, working up costumes and props, or he was out behind the dumpsters smoking. Or blowing something up. For some reason he took a shine to you, and when he bailed out of college, he looked you up and managed to talk you into letting him crash with you until he found a job. Since his job as a flight attendant kept him away most of the time, he ended up on your couch for six months.

Since then you'd gone to the occasional ball game together and kept in pretty good touch. He kept trying to hook you up with stewardesses he knew. You'd had some fun times, but Dunstan never seemed to pick you a winner. "They all want a pilot," he said. "Maybe they'll settle for a doctor or an architect. It's hopeless."

You get on the plane and settle down in the cushy leather seats in first class.

"Sleep, sleep, sleep, and wake up in Hawaii!" Dunstan says. "Oh," he says. "By the way, I've got your survival kit right here." He rummages through his carryon and pulls out a mini-tote bag with a handle. "Maps. Phone numbers. A prepaid phone card in case. A copy of our itinerary. Clubs in Lahaina. I've underlined the ones you'll probably like better. Beaches. Boat tours. Day trips. The Na Pali Highway. Haleakala. Condoms. Lube. Chance favors the prepared man, and you always forget."

"Thanks, Ma," you say, chuckling at him.

"You just don't know how to have fun," he says. "I don't want to hear another sob story like your date with Gena. She wouldn't talk to me for days after that fiasco. So if you can't sleep, read up and figure out what's interesting."

"I was thinking beaches by day, clubs by night," you say. "Do you think you know anyone working this flight?" you ask. "Maybe they have some good ideas for serious party places."

"If I recognize anyone before I fall asleep, I'll let you know." he says. "But enough leeching off my charm and connections, ask 'em anyway." He yawns. "Be good for you to be something other than Mr. Strong and Silent."