More traveling times for me. I have legs, a backpack, and a tax return, and so I just couldn’t stay home anymore. We logged onto the Internet where they were purveying cheap ticket/hotel packages to Honolulu, and along with all the other spring breakers of the world, we just did it. I mean, isn’t it awesome that you can just do that?
It was a great trip, front to back. Four nights in the Waikiki Sands and four days hopping around from beach to beach like bunnies from meadow to meadow. Or whatever. Our super cheap-spring break lodging was absolutely fine by our modest standards, with the exception of one thing: permanently attached plastic mattress covers. I mean they were under the sheet, but you still felt like you were sleeping on a big diaper. Turning over in the middle of the night? “Scrinkle scrrumple schlurp!” went the mattress diaper. Sometimes the sheet would come untucked and recede, at which point your leg would stick to the plastic mattress, followed by a swampish suction noise upon removal. Gross.
This was our main and only business!
Anyway, the sun was blazing, and lobsterhood awaited our pale northwest bodies. I watched as Lance swigged on a cold lager and roasted happily in the golden heat. “Did you put sunscreen on?” “No, I”ll be fine! Don’t we want to get some sun?” These, my friends, are famous last words. If you happen to see him around town in the next few days, you’ll see what I mean. But whatever, I’ll get off my SPF 55 high horse ’cause regardless I still got skewered by UVs, too.
Sunset was the nicest time of day—lovely light and sweet soft air.
Honestly we coveted this guy’s vacation awesomeness. The shades, the shorts, the shirt—all killing it.
So loud down here—blasting wind, pounding surf, lots of power in the air molecules.
Unintentional boob grab … or is it?!
Pineapple plantations and sugarcane fields growing from the red island earth. We drove up to the North Shore and each mile we passed through was a new view, another crazy natural creation. So so cool.