Hawaii... Part 2 (Or... How I Puked in a Hawaii Costco Parking Lot)

I realized as I typed 'Part 2' that there may be many parts to this series... I'll be like the never ending Fast and the Furious franchise that is already up to like 18 or something mind-boggling like that. Although I legitimately would like to see the newest edition to the franchise - mostly as a tribute to  Paul Walker, who I had a gigantic crush on after the first movie - which I saw at least 5 times in the movie theater and totally fan-girled out over the cars at Universal Studios when I was a senior in high school. I almost wish I had access to those pictures just so I could share the total dorkiness that was me at 18... almost.

Anyways... back around to Hawaii...

Hawaii is still beautiful and I am still a shade of cherry tomato red.  Apparently my ability to rock a tan abandoned me when I became a Seattle resident. Fingers crossed that the latest in my battle with the glowing orb in the sky is a tan tomorrow.

PBR smells like college.

In other news... I SNORKELED!!!  And I didn't drown, cry, or freak out.  Okay... maybe I freaked out a little bit.  But the lifeguard didn't have to swim out to get me - so we're going to go ahead and call it a win.  I'll be the first to admit that I didn't love the general snorkeling experience.  There's something unnatural about breathing through a plastic tube with your face in the water.  My depth perception was all out of whack and so fish that were 20 feet away looked like they were right in my face - it's freaky.  When I saw a sea urchin that was no less than 12inches across, I was done.

So while yesterday started with some innocent snorkeling - it ended with a night out on the town.  For those of you who are familiar with my schedule - you are aware that generally my bedtime is early.  If I'm up til 10, I start to get concerned that I'll be all yawn-y the next day.  And I wish I could say that this only applies to 'school nights' but it doesn't.  It's all the time.  I like bed.  And sleeping.  It's a thing.  8 hours of sleep and I are a match made in heaven.  

Let's just say that I didn't get 8 hours of sleep yesterday.  I probably didn't even get 4.

We shut down the bar.  We made friends with locals.  We convinced a guy who wouldn't go away that we were a lesbian couple here for our wedding (to which he still didn't get the hint and hung around telling us how beautiful our love was and getting teary eyed over the fact that he isn't married. True story.).  We played giant Jenga.  We drank all the beers.

Today we went to one of the beautiful white sand beaches near Kona. (What I have learned is that Hawaii is the newest of the Hawaiian Islands and is full of lava.  Most of the beaches are really rocky because the rocks haven't broken down over hundreds of years into sand.  Just a quick knowledge bomb for you.) And I woke up this morning feeling like I had been hit by a Mack Truck.  Apparently 72 IPAs and two Gilligan's Girl coconut cocktails will do that to you.

So a little known fact about me is that I get terribly motion sick - the back seat of cars, rides at amusement parks, probably boats on the ocean - all of them make me want to hurl.  Well.  Today I did.  In the parking lot of Costco.  Awesome.  Vacation high point.  But, like Paige pointed out, at least it wasn't in the parking lot of a Walmart.  Touché.