Thursday, July 16th, 2009

Thursday, July 16th, 2009

Went to bed around 5:00 A.M due to the one large strong cup of coffee from “Crumb Brothers” the previous morning. I woke 4 hours later to being a 14 hour odyssey in order to get to my hotel room here in Waikiki.

Spent 2 ½ hours taking the Cache Valley deathtrap shuttle to the S.L.C. Airport, This van
actually broke the million mile mark this day. No kidding, the driver was proud of it. Problem was that the chassis was totally shot. I could feel the front right wheel wobbling like a cheap shopping cart and every bump on the road felt like we were being hit by a freight train. The driver was a pretty cool 55 year old Mormon, who worked hard and didn't complain. The loud squeaks and groans the van made caused one old passenger to say “feed that bird and she'll stop squeakin'”. Overall, I had no sleep or breakfast, and just wanted to get to the airport in one piece. At one point the million mile wonder van was doing 90 miles per hour. I started to feel seasick.

We arrived at the SLC International airport with little time to spare, only to find some very long lines to stand through, before going through the near strip search. I boarded the tiny regional plane and wound up being stuck in a window seat, next to a very kind mafioso looking Italian guy with a Brooklyn accent. We were the only two people on the flight to have a drink. I swear this Joe Pesci looking dude was in organized crime, but with the lack of sleep, my imagination could have gone south on me.

Landing in Portland was interesting: Three big volcanos could be seen from the airport, giving Portland sort of a “Land of the Lost” type feel to it. If and when any of those mothers erupt, it would suck to be a Portlandite. After 3 hours sitting in the much nicer airport, we finally boarded the 757 heading toward Honolulu. By now we were 7 hours into this trip, I was tired, felt like hell, and the idea of throwing up in the barf bag was a definite possibility, while sitting in a hot plane on the tarmac waiting for the plane to leave. To make matters worse I was sitting next to a gorgeous blond chick in her early 20's (I tend to spill over both sides of the seat), and a gorgeous young mom with 2 year old kid in the seat across the aisle from me. Then there was the infant in the aisle seat in front of the other mother. Hear I am, trying not to vomit, while sitting by these lovely ladies, and two babies within 3 feet of my ears. Damn the cabin was hot as hell. Then the blond next to me kept hugging on a big Puerto Rican dude in the middle seat in front of her who was her boyfriend and a United States Marine! Usually, I would have switched seats with him, but I really needed the aisle seat in case I needed the restroom in a hurry. I just closed my eyes and focused on not getting sick. 30 minutes later, once in the air (thank god), the cabin cooled down, and I regained some of my equilibrium.

KNOCK! KNOCK! the hot chick tapped me on the head because she had to go to the can. Once she got back and we were acquainted, she was crackin' some funny jokes and acted like we have been life long friends! She was a very cool chick in spite of her perfect looks. The kid next to me turned out to be quite pleasant, and the baby in front of him was a golden baby who smiled a lot but never fussed. We had a couple drinks and the movie started. The movie has funny as hell and the blond kept elbowing me in the ribs whenever someone said something funny. 3 hours into the flight everything was great, while we all made our way to Hawaii. The Puerto Rican Marine was pretty cool, but I could sense that he didn't approve of the fun we were having. When we landed I thanked him for our service to our country and he seemed content with the respect I showed.

Before I left home, I decided to wear my wide-legged “ghetto jeans” that I bought at a Mexican boutique. I knew they were loose and comfy so I chose to wear them on the flights. Only problem was: I packed my belt in my checked baggage, but I wasn't worried, since the last time I wore them they stayed on OK. But since I've been swimming and eating Ramen, I lost about 2 pants sizes in my waist, so I had to do the “ghetto cinch” by holding two belt loops together with one hand while I walked. This normally wouldn't be an issue, but since I had two heavy carry on bags it was a pain. At one point, when I had to show my boarding pass while holding up my pants and carrying two bags, my pants started sliding fast. I had to drop the bags and grab my pants, while handing over the boarding pass, otherwise Mr. Barnes would have been standing in the airport with my pants dropped to my ankles, and all these Mormons would have seen the funky designs on my long legged briefs. This issue was even worse in Honolulu, when I had a 70 pound backpack, in addition to the carry on, while trying to hike the ¼ mile to get to the airport shuttle. While walking, I felt the “my zipper is down” breeze, and actually managed to zip up while struggling with these bags, and waving goodbye to the Blond and her boyfriend simultaneously. I managed to do it while only looking slightly stupid!

Our driver was a native Hawaiian women, who was very sweet, sturdy, and polite. She dropped me off at my hotel and wasn't mad that I had no cash to tip her. Then I got my room key, and struggled up to my room while trying to keep me pants up the entire way. Once I got to the room, I poured a whiskey, and sat out on the Lanai for an hour, entranced by the view of the Ala Moana Canal and the mountains in the distance. By this time it was 9:00 PM Hawaiian time (1 AM Mountain time), and the world is good again.

At 11:PM Hawaiian time I went to the very cool hotel bar (the locals hang out here), and hung out with the bartender for an hour or so. Turns out the bartender was from Maine, then went to college at UT Austin, before moving to Waikiki. He said he wasn't going back.