A few weeks ago, after a week of beach, sunscreen and basking in Waikiki, it came time for my college friend to pack up her swimsuit and head home to Lexington, Mass. Sitting on the floor of my room, she squeezed her suitcase shut and said, "I guess that's it. Let's go to the airport."
As I stumbled out the front door with suitcase and deluxe ABC store bags stuffed with chocolate mac nuts and plastic geckos, my mother called after me, "Watch out for those airport security guards at the curbside loading.If you leave your car for a minute, they'll get ya."
With a wave of my hand, I dismissed the warning as yet another piece of advice from an overprotective mother. With bags (which multiplied with every day spent on Oahu) loaded into the trunk, we were on our way.
I pulled my car up at the United Airlines terminal, which was deserted except for two middle-aged security guards patrolling the curbside. I politely asked the guards if I could leave my car there for a minute to help my friend carry her baggage to the ticketing counter. They allowed me to go only as far as the agriculture inspection station, about 20 paces from the curb.
I admit that I was trying to squeeze in some last-minute seconds with my friend without having to pay the exorbitant airport parking fee. So, after retrieving the bags from the agricultural inspection conveyer belt, I committed a rash act of rebellion and escorted my friend a few paces further from my car to the ticketing counter. Just as I started to say goodbye I heard whistles blowing from outside. I turned around to see the two guards marching in my direction, arms gesticulating wildly.
IN a state of panic, I said a quick good-bye and rushed back to my car, still the only one parked along the four-lane thoroughfare. The security guard paused his whistle-blowing long enough to bark, "You didn't follow my directions, did you! You said you would only go to the agricultural inspection."
I shrugged, apologized and drove off with a sour taste in my mouth.
Gosh, I thought, isn't the point of an airport curb for loading and unloading? Do they want to keep it completely clear in case a tsunami washes in or a hurricane suddenly hits? I can understand that the airport wants people to pay for parking, but in this case the number of feathers ruffled will be greater than the number of bucks earned.
I'm sure the airport has just reason for enforcing such a rule, but I wish they would do it with a little more common sense and aloha. A polite warning would be preferable to whistle blowing.
At home I related the experience to my mother, who immediately had a similar story to tell. A few months earlier, when dropping my grandparents off at the airport, my mother encountered similar treatment.
She wanted to help her 80-year-old parents get their luggage from the car to the check-in counter. The guards said they would ticket her if she left the car. Finally, after explaining her situation, she was allowed to walk her parents inside, quickly. While hugging her parents goodbye, the security guard tapped my mother on the shoulder, indicating that her time was up.
The airport is a tourist's first and last glimpse of Hawaii. To successfully play its part in the tourism industry, the airport should strive for convenience and customer service at all costs.
This curbside annoyance may not seem like a big deal, but after a while, anyone would get fed up. Do we want tourists leaving Hawaii with sour tastes in their mouths?
Rant & Rave is a Tuesday Star-Bulletin feature allowing teens and young adults to serve up fresh perspective. Guys and girls speak up by fax at 523-8509; by answering machine at 525-8666; snail mail at P.O. Box 3080, Honolulu, HI 96802; or e-mail, features@starbulletin.com