I took the cozy king-size bedroom with private bathroom while Diya took the other room. I was sure it was just as nice, with maybe a queen-size bed or two beds.
“Wait. Is Kimo staying, too? Is your bed in there big enough?”
She waved me off. “Don’t worry about us!”
Since their time together, she’d learned to enjoy both bougie beds and camping. She wouldn’t mind camping on the floor of their room or even out in the backyard.
I dragged my bags into the larger room, amazed by the stunning gold-framed mirrors, tropical decor, and sturdy wicker and bamboo furnishings.
Once I’d showered the filth of airports away, Diya called into my room through the open decor, “Don’t bother drying your hair! I’m treating you to a spa day.”
I giddily went, taking comfort in the fact that Diya’s enormous discounts worked their wonders.
We lounged around in plush robes surrounded by orchids and calming music. Soothing scented oils floated through the air as we enjoyed champagne and chocolates made from local ingredients like cacao beans, coffee beans, vanilla pods, teas, fruits, and nuts.
I was truly enjoying the start of my vacation. Nothing could break this serenity.
Four Sunny
My first time on the islands was accompanied by a mix of astonishing and annoying things. First off, the views were fantastic, straight out of the highest resolution cinematic movie. Glistening ocean for miles hit the horizon and the slight curvature of the earth painted in clouds. Although a sobering thought. Looking out the plane window was a reminder of how much faith we placed in technology, in the engineering of this giant aircraft and these pilots, because one bad turn of events, one electrical glitch, and we would plunge to our watery deaths. Surrounded by sharks. There must’ve been a million of them underneath the glimmering waves, just waiting for a metal-encased meal.
So much for the beauty of the endless ocean. Now, all I could see were horrifying ways to die.
The water went from shades of dark blue to green and aquamarine and clear enough to see outlines of black rocks at the bottom. It was marvelous to see for the first time and had, ironically, made me incredibly thirsty. Or maybe it was the fact that the airline served us free mai tais as a welcome. They weren’t individually made but poured out of Costco-size bottles and were sweet and tart with a hint of alcohol and enough to make my mouth dry.
Beyond the clear waters were serene coastlines and more black rocks with a sprinkling of trees and shrubs until we were flying over lush greenery and specks of houses. And still beyond that were massive hills, maybe small mountains, blurred out by fog and rising above the clouds like sleepy giants. According to the people excitedly chattering behind me, those were volcanos. Not as deadly as I’d expected a volcano to look, but dormant, which was preferable to a possible fiery demise.
I couldn’t help but wonder if I would die here—sharks one way and molten lava the other, filled with poisonous centipedes in between.
We deplaned into a tiny outdoor roughing-it-in-the-wild airport, where a pall of humidity and god-awful heat hit the second we stepped off the plane and onto a ramp leading down to the runway. Hot as hell. I went from thirsty to parched, desperately fumbling to get a few bucks into the vending machine for water so expensive, I expected it to taste like heaven.
It didn’t, but I drank it to the last drop.
I texted my sisters about Papa. His health had become a looming concern since his first stroke a few months ago. It had been mild with minimal long-term effects, but disconcerting nonetheless.
“I’m good,” Papa insisted over the phone.
“Are you taking your meds on time? Drinking plenty of fluids, rest, exercises?” I pressed as I read my sisters’ text responses.
Sheila: He’s fine! We’re here! You’re in HAWAII! Stop texting. Don’t call.
Sienna: Seriously, if anything happens, we’ll let you know.
“Beta,” Papa replied firmly, “I’m doing everything the doctor instructed. Now, you relax. Don’t worry so much about me, huh? Enjoy your vacation.”
Easier said than done.
Unlike my friends who’d flown in for this destination wedding, I didn’t notify them when I’d landed, or when I’d left baggage claim, or when an Uber had picked me up, or when I’d arrived at the hotel not only where we were all staying but where the wedding would take place. Because that was too many damn texts in an already congested group chat. I didn’t need to read Maya’s dissection of how many sea turtles she’d seen while looting the beach for shells.
They’re called honu. They’re endangered green sea turtles, omg, they’re gorgeous. OMG, they’re adorable! This one loves me. Look at how it looks at me! I’m in love, you guys! Can’t get too close to them. There are signs everywhere!
Followed by a dozen pictures that looked like either her camera zoom capabilities were excellent or she’d gotten closer to the turtles than she was legally allowed to.
More importantly, after a long day of traveling and cramped leg space during a seven-hour flight, I wanted to shower before seeing my boys. No matter how excited we were for this week, there was no amount of bro love that could outshine the level of travel gross I was feeling.
But fate had other plans.
“What do you mean there’s no reservation under my name? Try it again,” I said to the man behind the front desk.
The staff uniforms consisted of dark blue and green Hawaiian shirts in an open-air lobby that allowed optimal airflow from the ocean to the left. Granite floors, tall vases filled with fake flowers, large paintings on the wall, and water features everywhere gave this hotel an immediate welcoming calm. The gentle ukulele music over the speakers helped, too.
“Seems that you were supposed to check in yesterday,” the man explained.
I showed him the reservation on my phone. “No. It’s for today.”
He typed away and I noticed beads of sweat gathering at his temple. It was humid, but also packed. The phones were ringing off the hook and the line behind me was getting longer by the minute, despite six staff members working furiously behind the counter. The place looked incredibly busy for a mid-October Tuesday.
I patiently waited another few minutes when the man excused himself and another person slid over to assist me. The manager. Which was never a good sign.
“I apologize, but it seems that we don’t have any rooms available except for the luxury suites,” he said with a worn expression, as if I wasn’t the only snafu of the day.
I grunted. I just wanted to shower and change and maybe nap. “How much per night? Can I get it for the rest of my stay?”
“Eight hundred a night.”
I balked at the price. The hell? Was it lined in gold?
“Although the only suites we have may be available beginning tomorrow night.”
