See you in Seattle

It seemed to Mrs. Hall that she had just touched her head to the pillow when the alarm went off to get up. “Rise and shine!” said Mr. Hall in an inhumanly perky voice. “We’ve a plane to catch!” The tickets to JFK and beyond were waiting (albeit electronically) for them at Hancock Airport, and he wasn’t about to let them go to waste. A quick hop to the Big Apple ensued and they plotted their upcoming travels while enjoying a petit dejeuner in the terminal before their flight.
The blue sky whizzed by their cabin windows as Mr. Hall fiddled with the onboard satellite television. “Six hours? Six hours in this seat?” squirmed Mrs. H. Mr. Hall recognized in that tone of voice the lack of sleep Mrs. Hall was so bravely handling, and attempted to soothe her. “Just think- we’ll be flying from one ocean to another in just six hours. 'Tis the stuff of 'The Jetsons’!”
“Baloney” snuffed Mrs. Hall. “Flying cars are the stuff of the Jetsons; but where are those? When are we going to have them? We are sorely lacking when it comes to that glorious vision promised us just fifty short years ago by those visionaries at Hanna-Barbara. And don’t try to placate me; the Roomba© is a poor excuse for Rosie the robot maid.”
“Flying cars? A sky full of amateurs? The cockpit is only for trained professionals; the layman has no business there. Flying cars would be a disaster of unbelievable proportions if the average man tried to fly.” While ignoring his strictly masculine vision of the cockpit, it was clear Mrs. H. was very close to touching a nerve.
“Spoken like the true luddite that you are,” she snorted. “That’s the same malarkey they were spewing 100 years ago at the advent of the horseless carriage. When technology reaches the point where flying cars are as ubiquitous a component of the suburban milieu as the Dodge Caravan is now, that’s when we’ll have what the Jetsons had!” Just as he could see her catching her breath and preparing another rant, he managed to flag a hostess and ordered a drink. “Look darling- a little bento box full of munchies just for you!” The bright colors seemed to distract her enough and the rest of the flight went along seamlessly.
Waiting for them at the airport was Mr. Hall's son Erick and he whisked them away to the city. "I'll bet you're hungry. How 'bout a short trip down to Pike Place Fish Market for some of the city's finest fish? I made reservations for us at Matt's in the Market." The idea proved to be inspired. After a brief but thoroughly entertaining stroll through the famous fish market on the bay (where the Halls watched the amusing fish throwing frequently documented on the Food Channel) Erick helped them navigate the winding tunnels and walkways to their destination. Joined by fellow dining adventurer Drew Kearl, they (well, Mrs. Hall that is) gleefully ordered some of the most exotic dishes on the menu. The meal was spectacular, but Mr. Hall barely saw it go by. What he and Erick were mostly focused on was the air traffic. Modern commercial, light personal and even bush planes of every size continued to zip across the bay the entire evening, and for several minutes at a stretch it was difficult to tease their attention away from the airshow. As far as Mrs. Hall was concerned, the Graf Zeppelin could have moored at the table next to her and she wouldn't have blinked; her dungeness crab salad and smoky grilled octopus were all she needed to be entertained.
The business of dining being happily dispatched, the Halls et al continued on. They stopped only briefly at the very first Starbucks store for a bag of coffee beans, before heading back to Erick's apartment for the evening.
"Well, dear-" said Mr. Hall as he unpacked his bag, "flying cars aside, I think your mid century modern æsthetic will be thoroughly pleased tomorrow, when we take in the heart of the city." But Mrs. Hall was already asleep, braced by the brisk walk back to the car, her delicious repast, and a hearty side of jetlag. Next stop: Relics from the future- the Space Needle. Stay tuned!