BLOG: Leni’s Hawaiian Adventure PART 1
Leni is halfway around the world in Hawaii, but as usual, she is hard at work. She’s blogging all about her vacation (ON A BLACKBERRY!!) and we’re posting them here to candy95.com so you all can follow along.
Seriously, she’s typing these on A BLACKBERRY!! That’s pretty impressive. Here’s her Day One update:
Well, we arrived in Honolulu yesterday at 2pm, local time. While waiting at the luggage carousel for our bags, I was kneeling down to tend to my daughter when I saw two very long, skinny legs in front of me. Mentally ‘tsk tsking’ at this lady’s obvious eating disorder, I stood up to find her whole back was hunched and twisted in almost incomprehensible ways. Clearly her weight was the product of some physical condition or disease, which of course made me feel terrible for jumping to bulimic conclusions.
She caught me looking at her, so naturally I did my best to smile casually. Lighthearted, breezy, no trace of sympathy. At least, that’s what I was going for: ‘Here we are, two strangers waiting for our bags. Isn’t this lovely?! I certainly haven’t noticed anything unusual about your appearance, if that’s what you’re wondering!’
Fairly enough, she didn’t smile back. I bowed my head and walked on.
On our way through the airport, many people were noticing how cute an eighteen month old dragging a small Dora bag on wheels, can be. Those that didn’t look near gob-smacked at the sheer cuteness of my daughter and therefore smile broadly at her, or me or my husband, were silently deemed murderers or insane.
The air outside the airport was balmy, overcast and extremely humid: among my favorite kinds of weather. In this kind of climate, my hair makes the glorious transition from frizzy to bona fide curly! Which is fantastic! (Girls with perfect, straight, long hair, just chill out for a second and let me have this small victory, would you?) We completed the short stroll to the car rental place, all the while me picking out palm trees in the distance. ‘Good good…those were to be expected…let’s keep this trip within the realm of my imagining, no surprises please…’
There’s something infinitely comforting about palm trees. They’re like the weekend of the tree community. “Oh it’s Monday?”, they seem to be saying. “If it’s ok by you, I’m just gonna go ahead and look Saturday afternoon, all year round.”
The guy behind the desk at the car rental place was one of those disconcerting adults trapped in adolescence. About forty five, with classic surfer looks, it was clearly all he could do to keep ‘dude’ from his vernacular, while arranging our overpriced car. Him I didn’t judge too harshly though, since I’m hurtling toward thirty-two years of age at a rate of knots and still say ‘dude’, which is becoming more and more unsavory, to me at least, the longer I am a parent.
Once we’d been railed in the proverbial by the rental company: “I know you were quoted six hundred for the week, but like, um extra fees and stuff? All up you’re lookin at eleven hundred and fifty,” we finally began the drive to our hotel.
I tried to look out the window excitedly, but I was too anxious about the cost of the car, which had just significantly cut into our budget. I glanced hastily about me, then yanked open the glove compartment: surely for this kind of money there’d be a bottle of Dom left there for our enjoyment, or, I don’t know: a tiny professional Hawaiian dancer to carry around with us, who could also tell jokes and compliment me on my (not frizzy ok!), hair.
Ryan placed a gentle hand on my thigh, the way he does when I’m doing something new and am anxious, then he glanced sideways at me wearing his: “let’s try not to suck ALL the joy out of this Hon,” expression. I smiled tightly at him, took a deep breath and gazed outside at the passing “What Does Meth Do To Your Brain?” Posters.
We finally arrived at our hotel, only to be informed that this was not our hotel. One really good joke the Hawaiian’s have, is to call all their hotels almost exactly the same thing. Or at least I assume it’s an elaborate joke, because why else would I and other guests all around me, be having conversations such as: “Did you want the Hilton Waikiki Village Hotel? Or the Village Hilton Waikiki Hotel?” “Um….let me check…” “Or perhaps you were after the Waikiki Resort Hotel? Or maybe the Waikiki Resort Hotel?” “Hold on…didn’t you just say the same hotel twice?” “No Ma’am. The Waikiki Resort Hotel and the Waikkiki Resort Hotel are pronounced the same, but one is spelled with three ‘k’s not two. So.”
I am but a smidge, exaggerating.
When we finally found the hotel we had reserved and settled in to our room on the 23rd floor, I began to relax. The view of the ocean was incredible and the dozens of towering Honolulu buildings reminded me of Melbourne, which all cities do, because I’m from there and sometimes miss it and therefore make all skylines resemble the place.
The newness of the place was nice too though. The Hawaiian people all seemed relaxed and happy and kind of spiritual. (Those that aren’t addicted to meth, I mean.) Our daughter was happy and excited to be in new surrounds, my parents were due to arrive the next day, life was good and I was filled with gratitude for the chance to be there.
I sipped my nine dollar cocktail, ‘For that price, the rest of the damn Orchid better be on it’s way up to accompany this garnish…” and schemed up ways hubby and I could get tipsy for cheaper, tomorrow. The ocean lapped, the palm trees swayed, some d bag on the television talked out what it’s like to run a salon in Jersey where all the girls wear bikinis. There are most certainly worse ways, to spend a Thursday.