“It would be great if you could come out here and visit,” said my son, who’s in the navy. “And even better if you can make it before I’m deployed.”

“When’s that,” I asked.

“Probably January. The end of,” he said. “Although I can’t be sure. They don’t tell me anything.”

“I have some vacation time I haven’t used, and there’s the holiday break. I’ll come. It’ll be great to see you and visit the base. Show me the ships and all. And tour the island.”

“There’s lots of chickens,” Son said. “You’ll have to watch out for them when you drive.”

Like any mother, I miss my son. He’s busy serving our nation, and quite proud to do so. Presently he’s serving in Pearl Harbor, a place of great historical significance. I’ve always wanted to go there, especially since my uncles served there during the later part of World War II. That, and Oahu is beautiful. And since he’s going to be deployed, I’m sure he’d appreciate a visit from his mom.

But here’s the thing: I’d have to travel during peak season – the holidays.

Sure, it’d be great to have a holiday again with my son. Though I wouldn’t be going over Christmas, I’d be leaving during Christmas week. And planning this trip soon became a horror show.

I did the whole Google alert thing for fares, hoping to find some kind of bargain upgrade. I’m 6’1″, so I really need leg room. I don’t mind squishing into tight seats for shorter flights, but after all, this one’s about 13 hours, including one stop. I find a cheap fare on one of those popular travel bargain sites, and this one’s for business class with a FREE rental car. So of course that’s the one I pick to pick my flight.

For the relatively cheap price of $5400 for round trip business class (yes, I know, that’s anything but cheap, and I did say it was relative), I’d be getting the leg room I desperately need. I whip out my credit card and pay for the flight on a common, reputable carrier. My son tells me of a hotel for military families that’s about $100 per night, and he’s going to check into it for me. Book the reservation too.

Three days after I receive a confirmation for the flight, I received an email that told me my flight details have been changed, and to call my carrier for more details. It seems that I’ve been put from the front of the plane to the back of the plane, in one of those tiny seats that’ll squeeze the life out of me. I glance at my confirmation again, which says in the tiniest imaginable print, “Seats subject to availability and are not guaranteed. Call your carrier for more details.”

So I do. I can practically hear the carrier rep on the other end of the line shake her head. “You booked this flight through a third party. Unfortunately, we can’t do anything for you.” Of course. I feel rage boil within my veins, helpless as a rat with a foot caught in a trap.

I call the travel bargain site, certain that this is a mistake, because why would this whole bait-and-switch thing happen on a site that has commercials during the Super Bowl? The unfailingly polite gentleman who answered the phone assured me that this must’ve been a mistake, he’s so sorry, and he’s going to make everything right.

Except he can’t. Apparently the carrier has all the seats tied up. He manages to get me business class seats for two legs of the trip (there are four), but not the others, and I’m still stuck in the back of the plane for the longest part of the trip. He once again apologized, but now I’m on my own.

I call the carrier again and explain what happened. She does have some good news for me. I can get back in business class…for another $1000, plus tax and fees. I gurgle and wheeze. Now the ticket’s going to cost me $6500 and change. Somewhat defeated, I look at my emergency fund and decide to rob it. It’s always an emergency to go to Hawaii, I tell myself, and it is for my son’s sake that I’m going. At least the rep gets me further north in the plane on the last leg, and I’m in premium economy, which means I get a generous 6 inches more of legroom. Woo hoo!

I text Son to tell him the flight’s booked. Son texts back and says the military hotel for families is booked solid and has an extensive waiting list. Why didn’t I expect that? How much of an idiot am I? So I ask him where I should stay. “Not in Honolulu, or Waikiki either. Too dangerous.” When I ask a friend who’s been there before, she confirms it. “So where am I supposed to stay?” I ask. “IDK,” she texts back. Quite helpful advice.

Like an idiot, I go back on another hotel room bargain site and discover that Christmas holiday week is anything but when it comes to hotel availability and fees. I nearly dropped dead when I saw a room for $15,000 per night. What in fresh hell?

Then I remember I’m a AAA member and they have a travel service. I’ve used them in the past. Why didn’t I go to them first this time? Again, I beat myself up over this but at least I might be able to get a better rate for a room. And I do.

The thing to remember about AAA is they have hotel inspectors that visit each place they recommend. Their reviews are quite trustworthy. AAA holds very high standards, using a scale of one to five diamonds, five being the highest. I chose a three-diamond hotel that had an AAA members-only rate. Still more than I wanted to pay but much cheaper than anything any of the other sites had in comparison. My room will have a king sized bed, a balcony (probably facing a brick wall, but still), a fridge, microwave and coffee maker. It’s across the street from the beach and also has a pool with a bar. Sign me up!

I’m tallying all of this up as I load in my credit card number into the field. Insurance? Yes, please. Why not drain my bank account completely, especially if I manage to get covid two days before I travel.

Finally, I receive confirmations for my flight and hotel. It’s really going to happen. Never mind that attending a luau will cost me about $150, or the average price for any meal is $25-40, or just crossing the street will mean serious damage to what’s left of my savings. I’m thinking of the bigger picture here. Though this is an expensive trip, there’s no monetary value placed on the relationship with my son. He’s priceless. And he wants me to go and see him. It’ll be two years since I set my eyes on him when I go in December. Who knows when I’ll see him again?

This trip will be worth every penny. I’m doing it for love.