Day 22

Home, Sweet Home

I can’t believe it. I’m finally back in San Francisco. I almost cried tears of joy as we drove over the Bay Bridge and I saw the Transamerica Building’s triangle top peeking out from the fog.

Day 21

He’s Good People

Growing up, those were the words I so often heard from my elders’ mouths, referring to a kind act or deed someone had performed. That’s what came to mind today when Kevin, the manager of Bybees Align & Brake, came in on a Saturday morning (when the shop is normally closed), aligned our tires after the owner of the shop, Dan, worked until midnight last night fixing structural damage, then drove out to our hotel, picked us up, and in detail showed us everything that had been repaired. As we thanked him profusely, he simply replied, “Ah, it’s nothing. I’d hate to be in your situation. You need to get on the road and get home as soon as possible.”

Day 20

Just When You Thought It Was Safe To Enter The Water (or go on the road…)

Well, it seems that the car wasn’t really fixed when we picked it up in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. The mechanic told us we had to get the wheels aligned (closest place to do so, Idaho Falls, 100 miles away, go figure….), but in that process other things were found to be wrong as well. We’re now the lucky recipients of a free day in Idaho Falls, temperature 20 degrees, for at least another day. Hopefully that’s all.

Idaho Falls, ID

Thank goodness for the public library. We’ve been here the majority of the day. Since we don’t live in the county, we were allowed to use the “Internet” computers for up to an hour, the rest of the time we’ve spent lazily reading magazines we’d never take the time to read cover to cover in our otherwise busy lives. It’s been a nice change of pace.

Overheard…

In the restaurant at breakfast:

Waitress: Well, you won’t believe what he did next. (pause) He poured sugar down my shirt and then soaked me with water. Can you believe that?

Daniel and I exchanged raised eyebrows. He whispered, “Do you think “he’s” a baby or a boyfriend?” I had just assumed a boyfriend. And then…

Waitress: You know, I’m not sure how old he is. Twenty-nine? Thirty-one?

Boyfriend.

In the taxi as we passed a “Gentlemen’s Club”:

Driver: See that bar right there? That’s where I was during the big earthquake of ’57. You know, the one that took all those tourists in Yellowstone when the mountain just slid down?

We nodded, not really knowing, but wanting to hear his story.

Driver: Well, I had gone in and ordered a scotch and soda. I took one sip of that drink and the earthquake hit. We could feel it, mighty strong, right here in Idaho Falls. I looked up and said to the bartender, I don’t know what you put in that drink, but I’ll take another one…

And with that he slapped his knee and guffawed.

Day 19

What’s Wrong With This Picture?

I walked out on the tarmac to the tiny plane on the Denver runway. Snow was gently drifting down around us. I walked slowly, as flip flops don’t have the best traction in snow.

Day 18

My Favorite Souvenir

A small, wooden keychain, looking very angry with its bared teeth an scowl. On the back, its description: “God of Winner. This ancient Hawaiian Tiki is the Winner God. This Tiki blesses you with good fortune, Keep this Winner Tiki with you. you may always be a winner in all that you do.”

Day 17

Winner!

People always make fun of me for entering contests. I will enter anything. Fill out a form, answer a question, write an essay. It’s not so much that I expect to win, but the anticipation of what *could* be, what I *could* win, that excites me.

Tonight we went to a real luau. On the beach, tiki torches, pig in the ground, Blue Hawaiis flowing, luau. As we entered, there was a box in the gift shop where all you had to do was write your name and bus number (we were bussed to the remote luau location) and you could win fabulous prizes. Daniel started to stuff our entries into the box. No! Unfold them, nice and smooth. Then pop them in the box with a wish. *Then* we’ll win. He gave me a stare as if I was insane, rolled his eyes, but did as I asked.

At the end of the evening, the grass skirted hula maiden pulled three names from the box. First name won a prize of a t-shirt. Second name won a souvenir mug. “And now, for the final prize of the evening, from Bus Number 2…” I clenched my fists. We had arrived on bus number 2. “Lori McLeese.” I squealed. I rushed up to the stage, sand sliding into my sandals. Once there, I was handed a coupon for a free copy of our “Welcome Picture”, Daniel and I smiling with two island beauties. A lovely souvenir from our true luau evening.

Day 16

Beach. Snorkeling. Fish. Sand. Heat. Good.

Day 15

The Non Luau

The ticket said it was a luau. The hotel staff recommended it as a luau. Thank goodness we got our tickets at half price. Otherwise, I would have been *really* angry.

I guess I should have suspected something when I called to make reservations and the lady on the phone asked, “Would you like our 5:00 seating?” I answered no, that we would prefer a later seating. She replied that 5:00 was the only seating. Rather early for dinner….

As we came off the escalator, we were ushered to a long line in which I think I was the only non-Asian. Daniel whispered to me, “Do you feel like you’re back in Korea?” Well, only because I can understand nothing of what’s being said around me.

It turned out that the majority of the other patrons were part of tour groups, Asian, and over 55. As we stood in line, Daniel whispered to me again. “Why are we being led into a conference room?” Good question. I thought luaus were supposed to be on the beach.

As we were seated, a tired looking waitress nonchalantly handed us what she claimed were mai tais. She pointed us to the buffet.

We scooped potato salad, kim chi, pasta dishes, curry chicken, and prime rib on our plates. At the end of the buffet, Daniel whispered to me again. “Where’s the pig? I thought there was always pig at a luau.” I looked around. I didn’t see any pig. Or poi.

We ate our dinner, somewhat disappointed. I had expected to see a big, fat pig, with an apple in its mouth, staring at me from the low slung table, as I massaged sand in between my toes.

The real disappointment, however, was the entertainment. Well, I guess it was only a disappointment if you actually expected something entertaining. I had. And, to be fair, I did laugh at times. Because the show couldn’t have been more of a parody of what a Vegas “culture” production was had they tried. It started with the pareo fashion show – lots of ways to tie a pareo – look at all the different styles! Then came the “uncle” narrator, dressed in white pants, a very loud Hawaiian shirt, and lots of leis. And the oiled women and men, dancing traditional dances. Sort of. I was rather disappointed that for the hula they wore cellophane grass skirts, not the real ones. My favorite scenario: The scene opened with a chief tribesman and his woman exchanging good bye kisses as she sends him out to the jungle to hunt. Very Ozzie and Harriet with a tropical twist. Only moments after the chief leaves, his enemy enters the campsite and clubbed the woman to death. A very dramatic, faint to the ground, woe is me, swooning death. Then the dance began. The chief’s tribe, dancing a dance of revenge, stomping and whooping. Which would have been moving, except one of the tribesmen didn’t know the moves and kept glancing at the other warriors as he stood, not sure which spear to raise, which foot to stomp. His “ugh”s and “oomph”s came just a split second too late.

I was prepared to leave halfway through the performance (something I’ve never done), but Daniel suggested we stay. I’m glad we did. The last performance was the fire dancer. That was hot.

Day 14

Sand, even white sand, can get hot enough to scald your feet, even in October. I’m not complaining.

Day 13

Getting There

Drove all night on deserted highways through Wyoming, Idaho, and Utah. Arrived to the Salt Lake City International Airport at 5:30 am. Boarded our flight at 7:15 am, changed planes in San Francisco, and were greeted by the warm winds of the islands at 11:30 am. Life is good….

Testing

I learned something very valuable today. Bathing suit shopping is not a good boy/girl activity. Neither of us packed a bathing suit for our cross country journey (since we were planning to traverse the snow covered mountains, it didn’t seem like we would need one. We forgot to factor in the Hawaii detour.). After we checked into our hotel (in which all other patrons were white haired and using walkers, but it was right on the beach, so I’m not complaining…) the first item of business was to procure swimwear.

Here’s the synopsis. In the first shop in which the boy looks, he flips through a rack of swim trunks, picks out a navy pair, and bargains with the proprietor, getting several dollars knocked off the price (bringing it almost to single digits). He never even tries it on. Total transaction time: approximately 10 minutes.

In that same shop, I flip through racks of swimsuits, pick out six, he makes faces at four, I try to try on two (in the 2 by 2 storage area converted to a dressing room), self consciously walk across the store to view my selections in a mostly hidden mirror, thereby forced to rely on his reaction/commentary to decide on my selection. This is bad already. This process is repeated at several stores. The reason why? Here are the boy’s comments: “That looks like something you would wear.” “Well, it’s a bathing suit.” “Umm. Nah.” “I’m not very good at this, just get whatever you want.”

The end result, out of desperation, and wanting to get to the beach, not be shopping, I pay a ridiculous amount for a blue and purple one piece bathing suit. Total transaction time: approximately 1 1/2 hours.

As we’re laying on the beach, I notice I’m just about the only person not wearing a bikini. I make a comment to this effect and the boy replies, “Yeah, you should have bought a bikini. A pink one. Blues don’t really look that good on you.” This just makes me want to scream.