Day One, July 16 2008
I woke up at around 5:00 AM, which is tremendously early for me under normal circumstances, and was particularly early given I had been up so late the previous night. It's not every day (or month, or decade) that I get to fly to Hawaii, though, so I woke up in a timely manner, got a shower taken and my final packing done. I met Flowers and his gf, Ice, outside of Flowers's place and we hitched a ride to the airport with his mom.
This was the first time, actually, that I'd ever traveled to Hawaii, and I think that the plane I flew in was the largest. I've never flown over an ocean for an appreciable time (no European vacation for me just yet, and I don't really count the Gulf of Mexico) so I was surprised at the number of seats on the plane.
I was seated in row 35, iirc, and I was in the center set of seats, with two empty seats immediately to me left. Or at least they were empty for a minute. As soon as I started making plans to somehow sprawl luxuriously across the empty seats, a woman sat down.
Fortunately for us both, she was reasonably attractive. Knowing that she was changing seats without authorization, I was able to open with a "I'm sorry, miss, but I am going to have to see your ticket." It got a laugh.
We talked off and on through the flight. She was going to Hawaii for work. She was from Calgary. Currently living in Montana. Yadda yadda. She wasn't staying on O'ahu (as we were) let alone near Waikiki (as we were) but it was still pleasant companionship.
Two of my three Hawaii co-adventurers had made a trip to Mexico with me in early April... Flowers was in the early stages of his 'ship with Ice, but TM2000 and I had been ready, willing, and eager to meet new Mexicanas and, instead, got a goose egg.
I don't mean goose egg like we didn't get laid. Or that we didn't make out with any hot chicks. I mean that we (almost) literally spoke to no women. I got shot down once, iirc, and I was called "gay" by a gaggle of Sonorans, but for all intents and purposes we were entirely shut out.
TM2000 arrived in Hawaii some time before the rest of us, and he had been peppering me with txts and emails involving ... well, involving good stuff. I was looking forward to jinxing his experience with my arrival.
In any event, Mexico provided a baseline of sorts for me in judging Hawaii... if it was better (even given the low bar that had been set) it would be a success.
We touched down in Honolulu and TM2000 picked us up in his dad's orange 1979 VW bus... it was awesome. We stopped at L&L for some lunch plates (which involve a scoop of white rice, a scoop of macaroni salad, and a meat of your choice... all on (you guessed it) a plate)... although I had a couple of hamburgers (needing time to acclimate to the island).
After lunch we cruised to our hotel, which was right across the street from the beach in Waikiki (south of Honolulu, on the island of O'ahu). The beach looked great. The ocean looked amazing. Attractive people in bathing suits abounded. It was good.
One of my innumerable weaknesses as a human being is that I am a poor packer. I tend to wait until the last minute, and I tend to forget things on a regular basis. I invariably end up buying something that I already have two or three of at home, and this trip was no different.
In this case, it was swim trunks.
I already have two perfectly funcional pairs of swim trunks, but that they were nice and clean and folded up in my Seattle apartment didn't really do me much good when I was standing in my hotel room.
It was about 3:30 PM, and we had planned on hitting the beach. So I needed swim trunks, stat. I wandered down to an ABC Store (one of about 40 within walking distance) and picked out a new pair.
80% of these blogs seem to be me pointing out my faults, but given how my weaknesses define my life experiences, I must betray another one to continue to tell this story. This weakness? I have no idea what my waist measurements are.
Unfortunately, I had to learn the hard way.
Specifically, I looked at the 50 (or so) different swim trunks hanging up, and I picked the pair that I thought looked the best: they were pretty plain black, with a splash of red. I took them to my room after paying for them, and I didn't even look to see what size they were.
I got up to my room (TM2000 was out parking the rig or something) and I looked at the shorts. They looked good, but they were size 30.
"Hmm...", I thought, "size 30 waist seems like it might be a tight fit. Oh, well. I'll make it work."
When I pulled the shorts up past my calves, I knew I was in trouble. They didn't really want to go over my knees and thights, let alone up around my waist.
But I persevered. I had it in my head that if I could get them past my thighs they'd fit. Of course, when I got them around my thighs I had to squeeze my butt in there, and I literally scraped my left buttock because the shorts were so small/I had so much junk in my trunk.
Speaking of junk: I FINALLY got the shorts pulled all the way up, and they were tight. Like tight around the waist. Tight around my thighs. But worst of all? EXTREMELY tight in the groin region.
It was like I took some suspenders, threaded them carefully between my bits and pieces, and then stree-eetched the suspenders, fastening them around my neck. My crotch looked... well, it didn't look right. It was uncomfortable, of course, but the shock of seeing the way the too-tight swim trunks were pushing things in entirely unnatural ways... that shock was too much.
I peeled off the shorts (wincing as I had to re-scrape my ass cheek taking them off) and eventually swapped them for some that fit more appropriately.
It would probably be a good idea to go to the doctor to ensure that I'm still capable of producing children...
[more on my trip later...]
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