Preface
I am far too lazy to proof read this. Sorry and enjoy...
And for the person that said I wouldn't write this, it might be a week or so late, but it is written. Boom!
When
movies show a pretty girl, assigned to a plane seat next to an attractive boy,
they hit it off and spend a whole vacation together, they fall in love and
something dramatic happens, then they find their way back to each other and
live happily ever after, know that is all a complete lie. Trust me. Sure I
didn’t really want to spend my entire vacation with a complete stranger, or
anyone, nor did I want to fall in love, have something dramatic happen, find my
way back to him, and spend the rest of my life happily ever after with him, but
maybe having a conversation for part of the entire six hour plane ride would
have been nice. Instead I got on the plane, was sat next to an attractive boy,
and that boy kept his hood up, pulled the window shades down, and slept.
Occasionally he would wake up, tear open a snack, and hungrily shove it in his
mouth before inevitably falling back asleep, hood up, nursing what I imagine to
be a killer hangover.
Eventually the plane landed. It took me a while to navigate the Honolulu
airport, but eventually I found my way outside to a taxi. The taxis in Oahu are
not yellow and uniform like they are on the mainland, they are a normal Ford
Focus, Honda CR-V, Chevy Suburban like you would see a person driving down the
road, but these have a cab sign on top, the only thing that sets them apart
from the rest of the cars driving down the road. I think I pulled in to a Ford Expedition. We
drove around the island and the driver tried to make some small talk for a
little bit, about the weather, but he had such a thick Japanese accent I could
only understand about a third of what he was saying. It was a relief to finally
pull up to my hotel, $50 after pickup.
I checked-in, was told about all the extra fees for the amenities in the hotel
which include DVD rental but not a pool or bar, and left my bags in the lobby
while I went to explore the beach because my room would not be ready for a few
more hours.
My first stop was a bar called Margaritaville, a Jimmy Buffett owned restaurant
with a beautiful view of the strip and beach. The hostess at the lobby told me
they bring my food to me instead of me having to go looking for it, apparently
this is uncommon in restaurants. I let her continue with her spiel, smiling and
nodding, before I pressed the button to take me to the bar. For a place called
Margaritaville you would think they might have a decent selection of margaritas
and tequila and you would be wrong, my friend. But the view is nice and the
bartender was friendly enough, so the place sufficed.
A few hours later, I decided to leave the bar and head to my hotel to check-in.
My plan was to shower up, put on a bathing suit and head to the beach. I walked
in, got my key, headed to my room. The room was small, but in a perfect way.
The whole room was white washed with the exception of a single bright blue wall
and an orange throw on the bed. The lights, rug, curtains, bedding, tile, everything
was bright, clean white. It was beautiful. Unfortunately my view was mostly of
other apartments, hotels, and office buildings. The bathroom was completely
different from the room. It was as if I was stepping in to a different hotel
when I entered the bathroom. I could tell the hotel must have been remodeled
recently. The tile along the shower was a strange shade of yellow, one that
might have been popular in the ’70’s. The bathroom was trying to really hard to
match the bedroom, but it was failing miserably. But, the water worked, even if
it was hard to regulate shower temperature, so I didn’t care too much. However
my plan of exploring at night fell through because my bed was so comfortable
and I was so tired from closing the night before my flight, waking up early to
fly, and then flying. Something about travel makes me sleepy, so I slept.
One of my favorite things about Hawaii is the time difference. When it is noon
in Seattle it is only 10 in Hawaii. I am able to wake up early and I have the
rest of my day to do whatever I want. So, I woke up early, grabbed some brunch,
and went back to my room to change into my bathing suit, grab my book and I
headed to the beach where a very attractive surf instructor stopped me to offer
lessons. I declined and kept walking until I found a nice spot of lay out and
read while working on my tan. As a female, I am obviously really good at
multitasking. When the sun started going down, I decided to head back. The same
attractive surf instructor stopped me again, asking how long I planned on
staying in Waikiki. I told him when I got in and when I leave and he asked if I
would like to grab a beer. I was thrown off by his bluntness and asked if it
was getting weird. He assured me nothing was weird and gave me his number in
case I wanted to meet up later. I seriously considered calling him later that
night, then I decided the potential for date rape was too high and stayed in
yet again, finished my book and slept.
I finally went out my last night. Waikiki at night is a completely different
place! I saw the city transform. Instead of people with strange accents
pandering with metal laser cut wind chimes and silk skirts that can apparently
be worn 100 ways, the street are filled with street performers and artists.
There was the Santa violinist, the two silver robot men that move and dance
when you give them money, the break dancing crew, the astronomist with a giant
telescope pointed at one of the planets, a caricature cartoonist, scenery
artist, and of course the couple of prostitutes, drug dealers, and homeless
people. Still, at night it seemed magical, full of energy and life. All of the
tiki torches are lit, the open air bars all seem to have live music, the beach
had a luau going on, people were still walking around the streets but instead
of looking for a place to eat or shop or taking pictures people are out looking
for a good bar or club. Lost is the laidback attitude of the morning.
So, I went through the heavily populated streets looking for food. I hadn’t
eaten since breakfast and the options seemed overwhelming. I knew I wanted to
avoid a place like MargeritaVille and Cheeseburger in Paradise, but that still
left hundreds of options. Eventually I ended up in a gay bar, the only gay in
Waikiki. It seemed to be a slow night, the disco ball wasn’t spinning and no
one was on the dance floor, so I was a little disappointed, but their TVs did say
they have viewing parties of RuPaul’s Drag Race and the live musician was very
talented and attractive, so benefit of the doubt was given. The nice thing about
being a straight female in a gay bar is not worrying about getting hit on,
because I did get hit on in the only Irish bar I could find by a much much
older man the previous day. Although, it was hard for me to turn down his offer
for a nice steak dinner, it was nice to not feel the need to reject anything
more than another drink from the bartender.
Anyway, the food was great along with the music, but I decided to go find some
food that was slightly more filling in a place that was slightly less gay. Back
into the hopping streets I went to find myself in a hotel bar. The bar
overlooked the beach and had local singers playing relaxing music while their
friends’ hula danced for the small crowd. After sitting there for a few minutes
trying to decide what to eat and drink a gentleman sat next to me carrying a
bag from a jewelry store. He was probably in my father’s peer group and looked
like my childhood Ken dolls. Tall, slightly too tan, tight skin, blonde hair
that was blow dried and coiffed. But, he was nice and married so he made a
great drinking partner. We ordered our food and drinks, ate and talked then
decided to head downstairs to the bar on the beach. We were able to sit outside
under the tiki torches and drink blended tropical concoctions listening to a
different live musician. Strangely, our waitress is from an area of Washington
not too far from me. The older gentleman and I talked long into the night
before paying our tab and heading our separate ways.
As I was walking back to my hotel on the mostly empty streets, past the couple
of prostitutes standing outside of a clothing shop, I reflected on my stay. I
can honestly say it was the best and most relaxing vacation I have ever had.
Sure, I wish I had done more, maybe not spent so much time in my clean cozy
hotel room, I wish I had taken more pictures and maybe joined that beach luau,
but in general I learned about myself and I learned how much I love to explore
and travel alone. It was worth the sideways glances to being a single female in
a paradise usually frequented by couples. The culture shock was immense but at
the end, it was completely worth it. I came home recommending that every person
I know take at least one vacation in their lifetime by themself.
But, I do also have to recommend extra sunscreen if you go to Hawaii. If you
think you have enough on, you don’t, I promise. If you don’t believe me have a conversation
with my burnt butt cheeks!
