Smith goes to Hawaii

         Smith stepped onto his plane and found his seat. He wasn't flying first class, he never did, because what was the point? He had flown first class before on a job and, to be perfectly honest, he wasn't that impressed. Sure, the food in first class was better and you had more leg room, but it wasn't like they fed you scraps in coach or anything...and Smith was just as comfortable sitting in his cloth window seat as he ever could have been in the leather seats up in the front of the plane. Besides, the way Smith figured it, if something happens to the plane and it crashes, the passengers in first class would be the first ones to go. Maybe that's how that area of the plane got its name...or maybe not, but what difference did it make to Smith? He wasn't up there, and that's all that mattered.
         Sitting in his seat, Smith felt a little excited about this particular assignment. His work had taken him all over the country, and he had certainly been to some lovely places, but never had he had the opportunity to visit Hawaii before. So when fate had dropped this opportunity in his lap, he had, needless to say, jumped all over it. And why wouldn't he? Hawaii was like America's version of the Virgin islands, and aside from working on a carribbean cruise, was a hitman's dream job...with the sun, the sand, the palm trees and the beautiful island girls, Smith was sure that Hawaii was as close to Heaven as he would see in this lifetime.
         Smith's plane taxied down the runway and waited for clearance for takeoff. These next couple of minutes, Smith decided, were the ones filled with the most apprehension for the passengers. It was like the calm before the storm. Suddenly, the engines went from their idle whine, to a deafening roar as the pilot opened the throttle wide open, allowing the engines to work to their full capacity. The force of the takeoff was enough to press Smith into his seat which, for some reason, made him feel more secure. Maybe it was because he knew that he couldn't leave his seat right now, even if he tried. The jet began its ascent and Smith watched out of his little plexiglass window as he left JFK airport and ultimately New York behind. Into the wild blue yonder, Smith thought.

         After what had seemed like hours, but what Smith was sure was more like minutes, the jet had finally leveled off, and Smith was now cruising happily at thirty-five thousand feet. The worst, or best part, depending on how you looked at it, was now over and Smith decided he might as well settle in and make the most out of his flight. The captain had turned off the overhead seatbelt sign, which was his little way of letting all the passengers know that he had now given them permission to leave their seat. Smith thought about going to the bathroom, but decided that there was no point to it right now. He had the window seat and there was no point in bothering the gentleman occupying the seat next to his. Besides, he wasn't even sure he had to go right now.
         About and hour into the flight, the stuardess came around with lunch. Smith had noticed her before. She was a tall, perky blonde who actually seemed to enjoy her job. When she came by with his tray, Smith decided to flirt with her a little.
         "You know, I didn't think that there any beautiful stuardesses left in the world, but I believe you just proved me wrong."
         She gave him a blank look, like she was trying to process what he just said to her, and for a minute, Smith was afraid he had crossed the line, but then she smiled.
         "Mahalo." she said.
         Smith just blinked. "I'm sorry?"
         "It's Hawaiian. It means thank you or something," She gave him a flirtatious look, "and here I thought Mahalo was the one Hawaiian word that everyone knew."
         She thought wrong. "I thought the word was Aloha." Smith said.
         She smiled, "Well, I don't see why there can't be two Hawaiian words that are known universially."
         Now it was Smith's turn to smile, "I guess you learn something new everyday."
         He thanked her for his food and basked in the afterglow of a job well done. Smith had a way with women. He liked them, and they liked him back. When he flirted with them, everything seemed to flow naturally. Smith didn't have the kind of looks that made women melt, but he was not unattractive by any sence of the word. But, he had learned over the years that you didn't need to look like Brad Pitt to pick up attractive women. You just needed to know how to play the game. He shook his head clear of his thoughts, finished his food, and closed his eyes.

         The next thing he knew, Smith was hearing the pilot's voice over the intercom saying what the temperature in Hawaii was and what time it was. How time flies, Smith thought. As he stepped off the plane and into the terminal, the same cute blonde that he had talked to earlier was now beconing everyone to enjoy their stay in Hawaii. As smith walked by her, he made a point to smile at her. She told him to watch his step and enjoy Hawaii.
         "Mahalo." was all that Smith said.
         It was one simple word, but because of their short conversation earlier, it was sufficient enough to make a connection between the two of them that would seem to last a lifetime.
         Smith left the terminal and made his way to baggage claim. Once he picked up his luggage, he began the daunting task of finding his way out of the airport. Why, Smith wondered, do airports feel like they have to hide their exits? Why can't they just put a sign up in front of every terminal that says, 'This way to get out of this goddam place.'?
         Once he was outside, Smith began to make his way toward to the long-term parking lot. Once there, he found his car. It was a Caprice.