Settled aboard the Hawaii Clipper, about an hour out of San Francisco, Abigail finally permitted reality to sink in. She was on her way to Honolulu!
Even though it was long past her eight o’clock bedtime, she was not in the least bit drowsy. The little sleeping cabin was inviting enough, but Abigail's head was too busy imagining the sights awaiting her in the exotic land she was flying towards, at the astounding speed of 150 miles per hour.
She had, it seemed, been preparing for this trip forever. Scrimping and saving, the last few years, for her Clipper ticket and other travel expenses, had not been easy, but Abigail was disciplined. When her friends would suggest lunch at the automat, Abigail always declined.
Her sturdy new brown suitcase, carefully packed, held everything she would need for her week in Hawaii, and no more. Abigail was not one to give herself over to frivolity. Three skirts, three blouses, one cardigan sweater, two pairs of stockings, her various under things. And one pair of shoes. The sensible ones.
Armed with an enticing stack of colorful travel brochures, Abigail had a seven day itinerary carefully mapped out. If she followed this itinerary closely, she would have little trouble seeing and doing everything on her schedule. When the Hawaii Clipper landed in the morning, Abigail planned to head to her hotel-the Royal Hawaiian-and from there she would begin the first day’s activities.
As Abigail set foot on Hawaiian soil, she realized that everything she’d read was true. The heavenly scent of the air, the brilliant color of the tropical flowers, and the graceful beauty of the tall, swaying coconut palm trees.
Forgetting her itinerary, and forgetting herself, she was suddenly overcome with an uncontrollable impulse to climb up the trunk of one of the palms, and get a glimpse of the jewel of the Pacific Ocean beyond.
How hard could it be, she wondered?
Abigail was thankful for her sensible shoes.