Military Manuevers and the Airport Sleepover

This was taken from a letter (which I still need to mail - oops!) I wrote my friend while this all was happening (keep in mind that I was a little bitter at the time):

I'm sitting at the Honolulu airport right now. My flight leaves in about 2 hours. However, I was supposed to fly out last night but missed by flight when I was sitting in the airport, in the terminal. That takes real talent, I know. You ready to read more?
You see, the e-mail I had said my flight left at 11:50 p.m. I got to the airport in plenty of time since my ride had a flight that left an hour before mine. . . at least an hour before I thought mine left. Apparently, mine departed at approximately the same time. I was caught up in thinking mine left the time my e-mail stated and didn't catch that my boarding pass said otherwise. I wish I would have and not because I had to pay $150 to reschedule my flight or because I spent the night trying to sleep on a bench near airport security (I tried camping out at the gate, but sleepovers are a no-go there). I wish I would have noticed the time on my boarding pass was different because I spent most of the time 'waiting' for my original flight thinking of ways to politely get away from the guy who'd taken a liking to me. I didn't think I'd been encouraging at all (granted, after several offers I did allow him to buy me a water just so he would quit asking).
Bah! The whole ordeal was awful! He was 42-years old! FORTY-TWO! That is closer to my parents' ages than mine (good thing this took place this year and not a year in the future or I wouldn't be able to say that).
He was in the Army and, according to him, had returned from his third tour of duty in Iraq days before last night. He had headed out to Hawaii for a vacation only to have it cut short when his ex-wife called and told him that she was going to drop their son off at his place the next day so he better be home. . . .something along those lines. That was just one of the many delightful things I learned about my new friend during the course of our conversation. I learned about both his marriages; his past career - supposedly he was an architect in Washington D.C prior to joining the army (remind me to join the armed forces after I prove to be a success and am living in a major world city making loads (as he insinuated) of money. It sounds like the career move of a lifetime); his parents' deaths; hobbies; and future goals, which the longer we talked, the more questions he asked me that seemed to measure whether or not my goals fit in with his. However, he'd formed such a liking to me that I bet I could have told him that I hoped to be a serial killer and he would have figured out how he could best help me accomplish the goal while incorporating it into his plans. He tried to get my number but I refused to give it to him so he made sure I had his. . . meaning he made sure I put it in my phone correctly. If this hasn't kept you entertained, let me share a couple excerpts from our conversation:
Him: I'm very good at telling when people are lying to me. I can read it in their eyes. It's helped me when I've had to interview Jihad. It's also helped me when I talk to women.
Me: Oh, really? So you can tell if I've been telling you the truth tonight?
Him: Well, I don't know with you. You're very senseless. (Yes, that is what he said) You're eyes don't show a lot of emotion.
Hmmm. . . I'll be needing a job in about a year - maybe the Jihad will be hiring. I can work as a trainer and consultant specializing in showing no emotion under duress. Here's another gem:
Him: I can just tell my sister is going to like you.
(Who says that to someone they have just met?)
Me: Why do you say that?
Him: Well. . . (pause). . . she. . . (another long pause). . . I don't know.
Me: Yes, you do. You wouldn't say that unless you knew.
(I was not amused and was not going to let him off that easy. Perhaps I should have.)
Him: You're right. She'll like you because she'll be able to tell you're THE ONE. . . for me.
Again, hmmm. . . if you've been married twice before, chances are that I'm not THE ONE for you. I could be wrong but in this case I'm not. Besides, what were the other two when you married them? Runner-up and Sweet Spirit?
Now, as this is taking place my plane is boarding. Not only that, but once nearly everyone had boarded by name was called over the PA system throughout the WHOLE airport. It only needed to be announced in the terminal since I was sitting there racking my brain for a way to get away even though I wasn't very far from the gate where my flight was boarding. All the while, a middle-aged soldier is bearing his soul to me - at times tearing up at a memory or a topic. If only I had heard my name announced! How could I not? I guess it's because I needed to give him a copy of The Book of Mormon. Are you proud of me? Even better, the copy I had on me was my military sized edition.
Okay, maybe you shouldn't be too proud of me. . . my motives weren't all pure. I gave it to him in an effort to deter his efforts. I pulled it out, set it on the table, and said, "You aren't going to get far with me without this." We ended up talking about polygamy - how it is no longer practiced in the church - and he took the copy and promised he would read it. He also promised he would return it in person. So much for deterrence.
Finally, he had to board his plane but before he dashed off to catch it I found myself in the most awkward hug of my life. I tried to avoid it. Then I tried to make it inconvenient (there was no way I was about take my overstuffed backpack off for it and I didn't). Then I tried pretending I was a dead fish - i.e. was lifeless and acted like I had no arms to return his embrace. After a little while I tried backing out of the hug but it was useless. He was oblivious to my tactics and he hugged his little heart out as I stood there with the most pathetic and defeated look on my face. He let go at last and hurried off to his gate. I went and hid in the women's restroom for five minutes before I snuck over to my gate and learned I'd missed my flight. Bah!
Oh, well. What is done is done. I'll still make it home for Christmas and I have a story to tell. It looks like my plane is boarding and I would like to be one of the first on it.

Trapped: How I escaped from My Bedroom. . . an epic of great proportions

A full bladder may be Mother Nature's way of saying it's time to wake up in the morning. I like to look it more as suggestion and often go back to bed after relieving myself. My intentions last Saturday were no different. I stumbled out of bed, over to my door, reached for the doorknob and discovered that I was locked in my room! Despite the obvious reason, this concerned me since my door can only be locked from the inside. After several minutes of handle jiggling My roommate, Ah, heard my plea for help and stumbled out of her bed to see if I needed help. However, as she had been quite sick the day before and was still recovering that involved sliding a butter knife underneath my door and laying back down. I'm sure I would have done the same if I was in her position.

After wielding the knife for several minutes to no avail, I determined my best course of action would be to remove the door handle. Since I was stuck in my room I was able to accomplish this MacGyver style (my trusty manicure scissors moonlighted as a screwdriver). I soon had a door sans doorknob and I was. . . still stuck in my room. Ah stumbled out of bed again, curious to see how that could be. At this point we paused for a brief photo shoot (which also happens to explain how I managed to remain trapped in my room. . . with a full bladder).

At this point, Ah suggested we get some outside help. We thought of our next door neighbors but as soon as Ah texted them she remembered that most of them had gone camping and were most likely not back from their excursion. Then she came up with our home teachers. I informed her that had to be the lamest home teachee request for help EVER so she held off on calling them while I placed a call to our landlady. I only got her voice mail. She received a message that included the following:
I've been trapped in my room for at least 40 minutes. It's looking like you may need to get a new door for my room since it's becoming more and more likely that we'll have to break it down so I can get out. Hopefully when I talk to you next I'll be out of my room.
This is when I approved the phone call to the home teachers. However, since none of them answer their phones at 8:30 on Saturday mornings I had the bright idea to escape through the window onto the railing around the porch. . . until Ah, standing underneath with camera in hand as I scrunched through my window, repeatedly told me that I could fall and hurt my back causing me to another semester of school. I realized she had a point.
I sat in the window with my feet dangling over the edge suddenly aware of how horrible some of the fairy princesses - particularly Repunzel - had it. Thankfully, I didn't have to mull on that awareness for too long. My neighbors returned from their camping expedition and were greeted by an amusing text. They hurried over and, after a brief discussion of options, stood beneath my window and on the porch ready to catch me should I fall. I didn't and soon found myself free from the confines of my room. More importantly, I was able to relieve my bladder.
Next task: get back into my room - where all my school work was located (this took place just before finals week).