A Week in Paradise

Aloha! Two days back from Hawaii, I realize my week in paradise passed far too quickly. Especially when I consider that I didn’t hike Diamond Head, see Pearl Harbor, go snorkeling off Maui, attend a Luau, surf, swim, or screw any little brown girls. I didn’t sail behind a boat on a giant kite, I didn’t ride the glass bottomed submarine or swim with the dolphins. I couldn’t talk my way onto a sailboat for the ride home either. All things I intended to do. Neither did I lay out in the sun to get a tan. My sun bathing was restricted to walking up and down Waikiki beach with my shirt off for an hour a day, admiring the bikini clad bathers, and burning a nice reddish-brown. Honestly, I can’t fathom how anybody could lay in the tropical sun of the islands and not burn to a crisp. But everyday, there they were, oiled up and wearing the tiniest of swimming suits, turning their skin a deep brown and into leather. The Scotch-Irish in me knew it would be suicide to join the throngs of people whom were fearless, so I was perfectly happy to walk on the edge of the ocean, admire the young and beautiful, and long for the day when I would have been reckless, badly sunburned and 1/3 my age. I did eat out every meal. I did go to the mall every day to shop , buy nothing, and search for native Chinese to practice my Mandarin. I did get drunk on MaiTai’s in the Tapa bar at the Waikiki Hilton a couple of times, where I met some very nice people that I’ll probably never see again. I did feel guilty that I didn’t do more. I did relax and shake the depression that was chasing me. I did quit smoking pot (maybe for good) for ten days, and counting. I did return home happier, healthier, and determined to find a life for my next fifty years of living, even if they will be spent bald, grey, and ever older. I did read a book. I did spend a week with my youngest son in Honolulu, where we watched the Giants win the World Series and will always be reminded of the time spent together upon mention of the champs of 2010. That was all that mattered to me, the time spent with my son. At this point of life, what else is there but my immortality in the form of my boys? Paradise was wonderful. Hawaii was wonderful . I didn’t need to do a thing. Being there was enough, but next letter I’ll tell you the story of eleven dollar Mai Tai’s, drinking with the rich and famous, drinking with the desperate for love, drinking with foreigners, and drinking with Becky Sue and Ken, all my friends for a day.