BLOG: Leni’s Hawaiian Adventure PART 2
Here’s more from Leni on vacation in Hawaii:
Friday started early. The time difference, coupled with the fact that I’d lately been getting up at 4.30 for work, meant that by 2am I was up and at ‘em. I decided it would be more fun if my toddler were up too, so gently coaxed her from her prison-like hotel crib by gently wafting a choc-coated Fiber One bar, under her nose. (There had been no bowel movement and much straining since Texas, so, you know: this getting her up in the dead of the night to hang out and eat roughage, was good parenting on my part.) By the time 9am rolled around and my Mother had been procured from the airport, me, my husband and daughter were all, to use an Australian colloquialism, “absolutely knackered.”
I however fought my fatigue to take Mum and the little one to breakfast, while Ryan drove back to the airport to pick up Dad, who was on a later flight.
Mum and I sat in the diner in the hotel’s lobby and enjoyed some stellar comedy from the Asian wait staff there. “You are looking for the toilet miss? It is closed. Until next Tuesday! Hahahahahahaa!”
I did an excellent job at laughing and replying: “Oh my, well that’s a long time to wait isn’t it!” without adding: “No but seriously, where is it? Ive been up since two and subsequently have no patience for merriment.”
Mum had slept on the plane, was in great spirits and was chock full of gossip from home, so I decided to perk up, ordered a glass of my old friend White Zin and settled in to chat. When you’re Australian, you don’t even have to preface a drink order with a cursory: “It’s 5pm somewhere in the world.” Vacations are for any time of day drinking, it’s a national law. Kind of.
I asked about my three sisters, all of whom I adore, and made sibling rivalry notes in my mind. ‘Damn youngest child over achiever lawyer kid! I’ll never earn as much money as her!’
Out loud and regarding the other middle sister besides me, I said, “Jo’s oldest has hit the terrible two’s? Must be tough….” while my own kid pelted sugar packets at the floor. Mum stepped in to help and spent the next two hours providing lots of Grandmotherly attention. It was lovely to have one of the elders of the tribe around, something I get to enjoy all too rarely.
Later that afternoon, we hit the pool on level three. It occurred to me while draped across a sun lounge and covered head to toe in towels, (this lily white skin takes work folks), that I’d been there basically a full two days and had barely seen any actual Hawaii. I relaxed though, knowing that Dad whose nickname is “Captain Itinerary” would soon sort that out.
Dad was too relaxed to be his usual planning self though, which was the product of a misunderstanding with a flight attendant. He had napped on the plane, awoken and asked: “how far in are we?” which the flight attendant interpreted as: “how far in to Hawaii are we?” and thus had responded: “Two and a half hours.” Thinking they were only two and a half hours into a nine hour flight, Dad took enough sleep aides to ensure he’d miss the next seven hours and once landed, had to be roused and near shuffled off of the plane.
He was of course thrilled to see his Granddaughter though and him and Mum fed her fries by the pool and took her for walks around it’s perimeter. (It really wasn’t hot enough to go swimming and my daughter seemed more interested in walking around waving to her adoring public anyway. We are unclear on where she gets her extroverted nature from…..) Soon things got really windy by the pool and I didn’t pay ten bucks per drink garnish to have those chunks of pineapple go gusting off the side of the building, so we turned in for a much needed afternoon nap.
Dinner that night was Mexican, which we actually left the hotel for, so: yay for me, I can now say I’ve, ‘seen the island.’
On the way out I saw someone wearing one of those flower necklace thingies and realized that not a single native had attempted to drape one over my head. Before arriving, I’d assumed that once in Hawaii, one’s neck would immediately be adorned with a wreath of local flora and would remain a veritable flower box for the duration of one’s stay. Perhaps they only give you the flower necklace thingies if you look like a nice person? Or if you look like you are pro-tanning? Or if you don’t look like you’re the drinking at nine am type?
I determined to make it my business to get necklaced at least once before going home. (Yes yes, I actually know that they’re called “lays” but do I really seem like the kind of uncouth and unimaginative woman who would make jokes about getting “laid”? A shame on you, dear reader.) That night I went to bed with a headache and realized that I’d drank plenty all day, but hadn’t eaten enough.
As I drifted off to sleep, I thought: ‘Tomorrow I shall eat lots of food and see if I can get someone to give me a flower necklace thingy….’ Lofty goals my friends….lofty goals.