To the jungle

One of the little considered benefits of moving to California is how easy it is to leave it. As in traveling to other places via airports here.

Direct flights are abundant and they go to all the good places. Choices are good, flights are many so we hopped aboard and took off to an island. It never felt so good to leave.

Our island is hot and humid – for the moment, just perfect. Being an island, there are 360 degrees of beaches to wander. Plumeria in white, pink and yellow. Sticky-footed geckos. A lascivious red flower with its tongue hanging out.

We dash about like tourists, trying to see everything, do everything.

A sudden downpour, then sun. Our shoes turn red from muddy trails and our necks a lighter shade from sunburn. By day five, we are weary and beach time lengthens. There’s an afternoon nap, an early pina colada. It’s a happy week.

We’ve been here before but travel time was twice as long. This wasn’t due to flight time but the fact we lived in a “fly-over” state.

I’ve always hated that term, which basically means the state isn’t important enough for planes, or its passengers, to stop. There’s the political implications that its people are not worth time and effort of candidates. It’s just a place that is only good enough to “fly-over.”

Along with all of that, since fewer planes stop, there are fewer flights out. That ends up meaning fewer direct flights anywhere. A flight to Hawaii from Idaho, for instance, means stopping in Seattle or San Francisco or L.A. first with a long layover. Mexico? Most flights require an overnight stay somewhere, making this a two –day trip.

Travel is expensive, complicated, trying. Airport connections are a common complaint, restricting business and tourism.

Back to California. 70 degree days and sunshine. Why did we leave? But the worst thing is to have to run away from something. It’s always better when you’re running toward something. We look forward to leaving again.