I was on a flight from Saigon to Honolulu in 1972 to attend a three day meeting there. I was sitting in a row next to the galley and met a very nice looking flight attendant. We hit it off and chatted most of her free time during the flight. She was Japanese-American and lived in Honolulu. The conversation evolved to restaurants and she told me about some of her favorite Japanese restaurants there. Before the flight landed we made arrangements to meet at one of them that evening. I got to the restaurant a few minutes ahead of time and waited, and waited, and waited. After 45 minutes I was getting ready to leave, thinking that I had been taken for a ride. As I was getting up she rushed in, found me, hugged me, and then kissed me, to much my surprise. She apologized and we sat down. She said that her car would not start and it took a long time for a cab to come to her apartment. She said that she was so flustered she forgot to call the restaurant so they could tell me she would be late.
The meal was wonderful, and afterwards we took a cab to her apartment, stopping on the way by my hotel to pick up my bags and check out. I got her car started the next morning and she drove me back and forth to my meetings each day. The stay with her was fantastic. I took two extra days off and then flew on her flight back to Saigon. We stayed in touch for several years, and every time I passed through Honolulu we usually got together. However, the third year she decided to get married and we ended it, but not until after one last long weekend in Kauai. I always think of Hawaii as Paradise.