The blue waters of the Pacific Ocean, fourteen thousand feet below, sparkled under the slanting rays of the rising sun. Sleepy-eyed passengers aboard the Northwest airliner yawned, stretched, and brought their reclining seats to an upright position. Two stewardesses hurried back and forth along the aisle of the plane, carrying breakfast trays of chilled pineapple juice, slices of golden yellow papaya, and steaming coffee. The younger members of the Brewster family, Biff and the twins, had been awake from the time of take-off, although their mother had insisted they try to rest. Mr. and Mrs. Brewster still lay stretched out with their chairs in a reclining position, but now they showed signs of coming out of their fitful sleep. “How much longer, Biff? How long till we get there? You’ve been to Honolulu before,” Monica said. “Only for a short stopover on my way to Burma,” Biff replied. He looked at his watch. “I’d say we ought to be there in an hour. Maybe a little longer.” The Brewster family had boarded the plane at six o’clock that morning, their flight having been delayed on take-off for an hour by a low-hanging bank of fog. The big plane’s four jet engines and a favorable tailwind had pushed it through the sky at a speed of over 600 miles per hour. Thomas Brewster leaned over the seat in front of him where Ted and Monica were fussing in low tones over whose turn it was to sit next to the window. “Morning, children.” “Morning, Dad.” “My, you’re surely wide awake for such an early hour!” he said. “Early? Gee, Dad, it’s after ten o’clock,” Ted replied, looking at his wrist watch. Mr. Brewster laughed. “Guess Ted doesn’t know about setting his watch back. You set yours right, Biff?” Biff nodded his head. “What do you mean, set my watch back?” Ted demanded. “Difference in time, Ted. With daylight-saving time further complicating matters, it’s three hours earlier in Hawaii than it is in Seattle. So, if your watch says ten, then it’s only seven o’clock in Honolulu. People are just getting up there.”
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