Anyway, my sister and I had discussed going to my brother’s for Christmas this year. However, two things put a crimp in those plans. The first was the cost of the tickets. Now, last year I took my sister and niece to Hawaii with me when I had to visit Honolulu for work. The trip was their Christmas/Birthday/Valentine's/Easter present for the next six years. My previous job afforded many opportunities to travel. Your tax dollars at work and I thank you. Traveler’s tip: the week after Thanksgiving is the best time to go to Hawaii. Ticket prices are reasonable and the island is practically empty of tourists so no waiting in lines for the exciting performances and crappy food at the luaus and no need for reservations at the overpriced restaurants. Also, if you're ever in Cheyenne, Wyoming I can recommend an excellent cajun restaurant.
The second, and main, reason is the disaster that would befall my family should my father ever come into contact with airport security. Now, I will admit that I have never traveled with my father outside of a multi-state car ride as a child with my mother driving and my father riding shotgun, parrot on shoulder. We have had our share of unique pets who have left our home is various ways, mostly through death. This particular parrot, Seymour, took his leave in the avian equivalent of a teenage girl eloping with a biker. He flew away one day when the door was accidentally left open and we saw him a few weeks later, circling the house with a hawk in tow. I guess he came back to rub it in our face? Can a bird flip ‘the bird’, I wonder?
In his defense, my father has traveled by train successfully. But if you’ve ever taken an Amtrak ride you know that you can walk onboard the train with a see-through box of Ebola-riddled gibbon monkeys holding placards that say “Death to America” and as long as you have your ticket punched at some point on the ride and don’t talk in the quiet car, you will be left to your own devices.
When I close my eyes and imagine my father attempting to travel by plane, this is the scene that unfolds: Not wanting to tip a porter to curb-check his luggage, he walks inside thinking he can just get on the plane and immediately becomes distracted by the smell of bacon wafting from the concourses.