Auckland Airport.  

As is my usual with international travel, I'm the very last passenger to board The Air New Zealand DC 10 clipper to Honolulu, and Los Angeles.

The reason I'm always last on a plane is a 'trick', taught me by a friend who travels for a living. "Your baggage is always last on, and always first off".   He told me. "Less hassle with customs and immigration at the other end".

But this sad journey I wasn't thinking of that. I was waiting for Rushki to show up to see me off. If she came and told me she loved me and asked me not to leave, I'd tear up this ticket and go home with her.

Everything is conspiring to stop her from getting to the airport. The lateness of the hour, It's already 11:30pm. The weather, a thundering rainstorm. Heavy traffic problems, everything.

When I'd called, her mother told me she'd make sure Rushki got the message I was leaving tonight, for good. Unless, she stopped me.

I waited until the ground staff dragged me through the last barrier and onto the plane.

We taxied away from the departure gate through the rain and darkness, to the inevitable point of no return.

Finally the aircraft surged forward and lifted into the stormy blackness, as my heart sank,

into a frighteningly different stormy blackness.