Originally I had planned on documenting the ups and downs from each day and night in Hawaii... and then I got distracted and had to, like, go to work and stuff. I now am finding myself falling behind on my blogging because of the daunting task of documenting nearly an entire week of excitement, adventure, and hilarity.
Instead of that sort of longwinded play-by-play, I will give some anecdotes. I'll start with three and if more pop into my head and I have the energy and time, I'll add future blog entries as supplements.
Day 3, at the beach near our hotel.
We went boogie boarding our first day in Hawaii, and I enjoyed it. I am a strong swimmer and don't fear the water or the ocean at all, so I was willing to give it a shot in spite of some rather large waves and a total lack of experience with a boogie board. My first experience was good but rather quick (twss) as I got very, very tired. In fact, I think I only managed to catch one good wave, but I rode it all the way to the sand of the beach and headed in for the day.
Day three saw a rematch, and it went pretty well. I still was a terrible, terrible boogie boarder, but at it was fun and (other than a nasty scrape of my left ankle on the coral beneath the ocean's surface) no one was hurt.
Perhaps most interestingly, I was approached by a girl when I was about 15 minutes into my boogie boarding (which, to be fair, was me trying to lie on the board without tipping over about 90% of the time). That's right, a girl approached me. Shocking, I know.
She was a waif-like girl who was from Korea and she asked me to teach her how to "surf". I immediately explained that we all were not surfing, but I neglected to inform her that I (a) just started myself, and (b) didn't have any idea what the fuck I was doing.
TM2000 waded over (sea-based cock block) and I introduced him (it was sort of like Ozzies, but more coral and less karaoke). He pointed to the hat she was wearing and told her that she should take it off, because she was going to lose it.
She meekly tipped it back off her head, relying on the string it was attached to... but after he paddled away she put it right back on. TM2000 is intimidating, I guess.
I proceded to crack about 35 jokes about Korea, ranging from Rock Ready to Kim Jong-Il to Japanese occupation in WW II. She nodded politely, of course, but I don't think she really got most of them... of course, even if she spoke perfect English, it would not have been uncommon for my jokes to go over her head and/or be entirely void of any actual humor. Say, for instance, a joke about the Japanese occupation in WW II.
We boogied our separate ways, but before I left I checked in on how she was doing. She caught a wave or two, was having a good time, and had lost her hat.
TM2000 wins, one to nothing.
Night 3, on the dance floor of a bar down the street from our Hotel.
How many times do I have to admit that I'm not a good dancer? It's an unanswerable rhetorical question, but whatever the answer might be, it needs to go up a notch. Because I'm saying it here. Typing it here. Whatever.
I'm not a good dancer. I know it. Anyone who's seen me dance knows it. I was informed by a purple-haired lesbian in Hawaii that I needed to move my hips more (and that it's SOP to stick one's thigh in between the thighs of the lady when there's a slow song...) later in the week.
I'm not a good dancer. But I sometimes like dancing. I don't need a girl to dance (although it helps, it doesn't help as much as a lot of alcohol). I also don't need to be mocked on the dance floor by foreigners. Again.
But it happened. I was dancing away at about 2:30 AM when a group of people entered the bar. Guys and girls. A rather pasty lot, but otherwise not particularly memorable. Two girls went on the dance floor and, after a bit of time, one started backing up towards me, kinda giggling as she did.
There weren't a ton of people on the floor, and I saw her coming. I could sense that she was going to do something silly that would potentially be at my expense... and she wasn't cute enough for me to put up with that. I retreated from the dance floor, getting another mai tai (or water, or something) and watching her look around, confusedly, at my disappearance.
Heh.
I went back out on the floor, of course, and the second time, I let her get close to me. She started dancing in a pseudo-sexy manner, not really touching me much, but clearly putting on a show for her friend. It pissed me off a little bit.
(Speaking of asymmetrical touching: there are a lot of hookers that walk the streets of Waikiki late at night. One approached us one night and, atypically for their breed as far as I could tell, put her hand on my shoulder and stood very close as she made her pitch for my money (or maybe she really just liked me for me). I figured her touching was an invitation, so I went a couple steps up the kino escalation ladder and put my hand on her waist. She took a step away from me real fast and left shortly thereafter. In retrospect, I guess I should be pleased I didn't get cut. Vertically.)
I did, though, talk to her. I asked her where she was from (Ireland) and if she was with friends (she was, a big group). I acknowledged that I know she was making fun of me/having fun at my expense, and I kinda excused myself.
Later that night, she was sitting with a couple of female friends in a booth, and they asked me to take their picture.
Me: Say, "Cromwell!"
Them: Cromwell!
Camera: *snap*
Me: (approaching) Here's your camera.
Them: Thank you!
Friend 2: Did you mean Oliver Cromwell?
Me: (in an Irish accent) Yes, he killed a lot of Irish people.
The best part of that conversation is that I have a HORRIBLE Irish accent generally, but after hearing them speak I was halfway passable, I think. When I retell it, though, I can't remember the Irish accent at all, so I tend to just say it as a pirate would: "Aye, he killed lots of Irish people! Yarr!"
Day 6, walking to Burger King for lunch.
Night five had resulted in a long and crazy adventure with a bunch of Australians (ending with the line, from one chick of, "Do you whiten your teeth? It's just bleach, you know. Your teeth will get brown when you stop. You're beautiful!!") and when TM2000, Flowers and Ice went on a trip elsewhere around the island, I decided to stick around the hotel, reading, napping, hitting the gym (the view from the elliptical was amazing... I want to move there, live on the beach, and shower at the 24 Hour Fitness until my membership expires. Hmm...) and walking to Burger King.
I don't recall the name of the street, but it ran right long the ocean/beach and it was occupied by a large assortment of tourists, locals, and homeless. It was from one of the latter two camps that I heard this glorious exchange, as I walked past...
Man 1: Do you know what it feels like to have a dick in your butt:?
Man 2: Uh...
Man 1: (leaning in close to Man 2) I DO!!!
Man 2: ...
Man 1: I've never told another living soul about this...
Unbelievably, and inexplicably in hindsight, I kept walking. How does one walk away from a solid gold conversation like that? Oh, well...
