Waikiki, Diamond Head & Pearl Harbor

We landed in Honolulu around lunchtime and my excitement levels were off the charts. I love Hawaii. I've been a few times now and there is no place on earth that feels like it. Looks like it, sure, there are a few. But Hawaii has a certain feeling. When I was sixteen I went along with Mom and Dad to the Big Island for a business trip. On one of our days there, we took a treacherous ride down a mountainside (steepest road in the world they say.) (In fact, we had to ride unbuckled with the windows down so that we might be able to leap from the car if they lost control) into a magical valley where there are wild horses and mango trees. There, in the Waipi'o Valley, life suddenly made sense to me. (And subsequently I became a little depressed). 

Point is, I have maintained my awe for the place since that day and will never be convinced there is a more inspiring place on earth. 

Therefore, Monday night, after a brief orientation with our hotel and surroundings, I got real cranky. We all spent our afternoon as the couples we are. Brett and I ventured to a back street and ate a Korean lunch from a hole-in-the-wall restaurant where you order by pointing at a picture and hoping that meat is chicken. Mom and Dad ate at a restaurant near our hotel, and Ellen and Lee ate at The Cheesecake Factory. I was alone in my amusement of the different travel styles of each couple. I did not see my family again that day. Brett and I went to the beach, took naps, and then my mood soured. It's because I was hungry.
"What's everyone doing for dinner?" I texted to our family group chat around 6 pm. My question went unanswered. I waited an hour and finally decided to go on without them. I asked Brett if he was hungry. "A little," he said. 
"Maybe you'll want to eat in another hour. 8ish?" I asked. 
"Sure." So I waited. In the meantime, my family never responded to me. For all I knew, they were at a tiki bar together living it up without me. I sat in our hotel room while Brett watched Youtube videos, and I was mad about it but I didn't say anything. (Choose your battles, kids.) At 8:00 I said, "Alright! You ready to eat?"
"Mmm. I'm not really hungry. I don't think I need dinner," Brett responded without looking up from the screen. All hell broke loose.

"... been waiting two hours! ... didn't come to Hawaii to watch Youtube! ... family won't text me back!!"

I marched across the street to a convenience store and purchased a piece of string cheese and a salad that I ate in a rage on our little balcony. I felt better after I ate and acknowledged that suppertime in Hawaii is midnight at home and maybe dinner didn't seem necessary? 

I found out the next morning that each couple had a similar dinner debacle and we all dined on salads from that convenience store. 

Dad, Ellen, Brett, and I got up extra early to climb Diamond Head, an extinct volcano with some gorgeous views. It's not a tough climb but you do need to pace yourself. In his usual fashion, Dad took on the role as class clown and had us giggling our way up the mountain. 

There were a few overzealous types that were jogging the hike. This seemed entirely unnecessary, what with it being more of an uphill climb than a flat trail, so these folks really tickled Dad. 

"Make way for the jogga!" Dad would shout with a Boston accent, and all the people on the trail would step to the right. Then Dad would giggle. "Make way!" he'd shout again as the jogger dashed by. None of the joggers ever acknowledged his assistance but Dad was quite pleased with himself.

Except for her being real bossy about your schedule, the upside to traveling with Ellen is that she has everything planned out and booked for you before you even know you're going. 

"Ok, we arrive Monday. We have that afternoon to relax. I've gotten Tuesday tickets to Pearl Harbor for Dad, Brett, Mom and Laura. I don't know if Mom and Laura want to go the but the tickets were $7 so I got them. Lee and I aren't interested. We'll use that time for shopping and naps and then we'll all gather for dinner at 6:30. I've got reservations at a local place."

And so we ventured to Pearl Harbor. We stood waiting to take a boat out to the Arizona Memorial and then it was announced that the harbor was "too choppy" to dock at the memorial so they would just be doing a slow drive by. As a veteran cruise ship passenger Mom noted that the waters were certainly calm enough to dock. 

"I've taken tenders through much worse," she declared. The rules were given to us by two Navy dudes. 

"You may not stand up. You may not remove your mask." Forty or so people filed onto the boat and sat on benches not daring to move. 

Petty Officer NoFun said his spiel. "We will be driving by the Arizona Memorial. We will approach from the right. Do not stand up to take pictures. We will arrive from the left on our return. Everyone will have enough time to see it. Please stay seated with your masks covering your nose and mouth. We will take a moment of silence out of respect."

We puttered out into the harbor and then bobbed there a while. Then they spun the boat around in the other direction and we bobbed there too. It was very quiet on the boat. Whether the other guests were disappointed, afraid to get in trouble, or actually taking the the time to mull over the devastation will remain unknown. Dad's feelings however became very apparent when he suddenly blurted, "This tour blows." Mom became nearly hysterical and laughed out loud about this at regular intervals over the next two days.

For Brett and I, afternoons on this trip went to beach lazing. We'd lather up the sunscreen and then sprawl out on those pearly beads of sand. Hawaii has perfect weather. It's hot in the sun, chilly in the shade, and there is always a breeze from the east. For this reason, you can sit on the beach all day without realizing that you've broiled well past medium rare. Brett and I were among hundreds of other pasty mainlanders roasting under a temperate sun. There were so many people on the beach that you just had to accept laying your towel down next to a family of strangers. There was just enough space between people to walk through and any conversation you're having with each other would certainly be heard (if not also participated in) by your sandy neighbors. It sounds awful and if I was at home trying to beach this way, I'd be livid. But here, you accepted it as part of your trip to Hawaii and instead, met your neighboring vacationers and took the family pictures for them and shared drinks and stories. 

On our first beach visit, I convinced Brett that he and I needed pina coladas. So we scampered off towards the pool bar, giggling and pushing each other into the bushes, and we ordered two pina coladas. How wonderfully touristy. Then they gave us the bill. It was $40. Those were the last fruity drinks we had on the whole trip. 

Just as planned, Ellen walked us through the mean sunlit streets of Honolulu to a little restaurant down an alley and up some stairs where we had a tasty (albeit unrecognizable) Hawaiian supper. During this meal, we mostly laughed at Dad and Lee for assorted reasons. Brett sat quietly in the corner of the table consuming all food that was passed his way. As we prepared to leave, Ellen and Lee posed for a photo.