The Sad Flight Home…
The man laughed about something Indonesia-related: He had read about these people.
The Minangkabau. The very people Java will be meeting again. His flight boards for Tokyo, Japan.
It was over.
Hawaii was over and as he waited at the gate, reading the newspaper, doing crossword puzzles, he stopped then looked out the great, wide windows, viewing the planes landing and taking off, flying somewhere, like he will be soon. His time in Hawaii has been memorable, long enough to create memories, yet short where he wish he could relax and unwind, which in fairness, he did. He sighs, missing this sunset.
He sees it from where he sits, a sight he knows well from living in Sumatra, minus the call to prayer, the salat. He sulks, wishing Hawaii wasn't so beautiful but glad that he got the work he wanted done when he did. He knows he may never have such a unique opportunity again, even if it involves late-night conference calls, emails, and general market research. He worked more observationally than aggressively, believing that directly interviewing people might cause the wrong approach and a bad image, so he took mental and written notes of what things could be improved and incorporated into the hospitality business that he works for—new ideas.
Ideas that may work for one year but are antiquated and dismissed the next year. Still, he has ideas. They could leverage a bigger surfer culture, possibly highlight more local culture, involving activities and accessible information, and showcase more cuisines ranging all around Sumatra, but alas, they are his ideas. Whatever management or his higher-ups have in mind may only account for a fraction of what he feels fits. Worse, they could misconstrue what he gets across, paying too much attention to numbers and statistics.
He doesn't know. He just doesn't know. He remembers those he met, like the surfer, the aquarium worker, and the guy from Dallas. Dallas, Texas, almost as far away sounding as Honolulu, Hawaii. Somewhere he might discover in the distant future, years from now, on television. It sounds like an important place to him. Texans. He met with the man later as they smoked together, talking about their lives and unknown futures, much in the brief span of fifteen minutes. The man laughed about something Indonesia-related: He had read about these people.
The Minangkabau. The very people Java will be meeting again. His flight boards for Tokyo, Japan.
