2004-08-02

Written July 21. So I guess we’re going to Hanauma Bay to go snorkeling today, once my father gets off work. I feel like I’ve been here for a year – I can’t believe it’s almost time to go home! Whoo! 8:15 am.

* * * Today was absolutely the best day of our vacation. The spud and I checked out of our hotel around 8:30, ran to the post office to mail a few last-minute things home, and then headed for my parents’ hotel. (Side note: At the post office was a beautiful young Japanese girl mailing about ten huge packages to Japan. She was dressed perfectly in a silk suit with a mini skirt that appeared to have been tailored to fit her, every hair was in place, her makeup was impeccable… and she wore nylon knee-highs and sandals. Which might not have looked quite so bad except that she was wearing a MINI SKIRT and the knee-highs only came to right below her knees. What’s that about?) My father got home from work a little after 10, everyone got into their bathing suits, and we piled into the car (4 people in the back seat, while uncomfortable, isn’t quite so bad when you’re not hot and sweaty) and we headed out to Hanauma Bay. We were disappointed to find that the Hanauma Bay parking lot was closed (they only allow a certain number of cars in the parking lot, in an attempt to cut down on the number of visitors, and to protect the bay. For many years, people were snorkeling there, tromping all over the coral, feeding the fish, and basically destroying the reef. The state of Hawaii took over the bay and enacted measures to cut down on traffic to allow the reef to rebuild itself). So we decided to keep driving up the road in hopes that we’d see a beach where we could stop and swim and do a little snorkeling. We passed up a couple of beaches because the surf looked too rough or the water too rocky, and then we saw THE most gorgeous beach, and stopped to check it out. I later found that we were at Waimanalo Beach. The water was gorgeous, the sand was so smooth that we didn’t need beach shoes, and the view was AMAZING. We stayed there for nearly two hours, floating in the waves and relaxing. Once we’d had enough of that (and we only had enough of that because we’d brought no food or drinks with us – otherwise, I think we could have stayed all day), we piled back in the car and headed back to Hanauma Bay to see if the parking lot had opened back up. It had, so while my father stood in line to buy tickets, we bought lunch at the snack bar, then sat through the 9 minute “look, don’t touch!” movie, then took the tram down to the beach. We took turns with the snorkels and masks and snapped two disposable underwater cameras’ worth of pictures. We only stayed for about an hour and a half, then we piled back into the car (me: “Brian, I sure do love you, but I’m glad we’ll never have to sit this close to each other ever again.” Brian: “I feel the same.”) and went back to my parents’ hotel. While my mother hopped into the shower, I checked my cell phone to find that I had EIGHTEEN missed calls, and when I scrolled through the numbers, I found they were all from my home phone number. With visions of dead cats, a house on fire, or any number of disasters dancing through my head, I dialed home. Busy signal. I tried Fred’s cell phone. No answer. I tried home again and Fred answered on the second ring. “What’s going on?” I demanded. “Oh,” he said with a little laugh. “I was just bored.” Bastard. We talked for a few minutes, then I took my shower, and we all headed out to dinner at Cha Cha Cha’s, a Carribean-Mexican restaurant. I had the Jamaican-Me-Crazy Enchiladas and they were really good. After dinner, my mother, the spud and I went with Debbie while she looked at luggage and ended up buying an adorable, HUGE suitcase for $40. In retrospect, some five hours later, I’m wishing like hell that I’d bought a suitcase too. I like my duffel bag, but it’s more than a tad unwieldy sometimes and I’ve been thinking that we need a second big suitcase. And a price like that, ya just can’t beat. Now we’re on the airplane, halfway through a 4 1/2 hour flight, and the spud is dead to the world. I think I’m going to slather my sunburned lips with Blistex, guzzle some water, and see if I can’t snooze for a while, too. 12:10 am, Hawaii Time * * * I managed to sleep for a while – maybe 30 minutes altogether. Our flight landed in San Francisco somewhat on time, give or take 15 minutes. We hit the bathroom and then hit the only store in the terminal to find that they didn’t sell drinks – water, soda – of any kind. What the fuck?! So we stood in line at Jamba Juice to get drinks and some kind of muffin thing. Now we’re 3 1/2 hours into a 4 1/2 hour flight, I can barely keep my eyes open, I befouled the rest room twice (Mexican for dinner right before 12 hours of traveling? Yes, please. Can I get extra beans with that?), the in-flight movie was the craptastic “Laws of Attraction”, which I didn’t bother to watch (if it’s not an almost exact replica of “Intolerable Cruelty” I’ll sit in an uncomfortable position for hours on end and annoy the ever-loving hell out of the woman sitting in the seat ahead of me by constantly fidgeting and accidentally kicking the seat 148,963.5 times. Oh, wait! Did that!) and now we’ve hit turbulence. Time seems to be moving backwards. I think I’ve died and gone to hell (saving a seat for you, Nance!). 1:00 pm Cincinnati time 7 am Hawaii time Noon Alabama time * * * Jesus fucking Christ, is there such a thing as a flight that ISN’T stuffed to the gills? Once upon a time, I swear to god, I was on a plane where every seat was NOT taken, but every flight I’ve been on this time around was packed. What the fuck?! THE SPUD DOES NOT RESPECT THE BUBBLE. If she elbows me one more time, I’m going to beat her. 2:45 pm Alabama time ]]>