The first leg of The Big Trip has finally arrived!
We bolted out of Hotlanta and headed to Honolulu to kick off what’s sure to be the most epic travel adventure we’ve ever had (and quite possibly ever will have).
Our mega-adventure kicked off with a massive, unexpected bonus: two of our five flight tickets were upgraded…not just to Premium Select Class, not just to First Class, but all the way up to the *One* Class.
The plan (because there has to be a plan, you know) was to rotate the five of us through these two seats in two-hour shifts so that everyone enjoyed a good four hours of lie-flat, non-claustrophobic luxury. Our dear friends at the airline that starts with the fourth letter of the Greek alphabet weren’t really on board for this idea (shocker) and after a little back-and-forth, they finally told Russ to just be discrete about it.
[“Discrete” is hardly an adjective used to describe a few members of our family.]
Russ made a chart–a chart, I say–and I waited patiently for the fourth hour of the flight when my first round of luxury was to occur. The time crawled by…especially when Theo drifted back after his first two-hour rotation to send Tuck up front and showed Jack and me photos of him with a down comforter wrapped around his reclined body…along with a photo of the dining menu. A few minutes later, Russ came back to switch with Jack.
The careful reader will here note that we foolishly sent Tucker and Jack–alone–up to the lap of luxury.
The four-hour mark hit, and I hopped up and wanted to sprint to the front to dispossess the seat from Tucker, but I controlled myself because I’m discrete and all.
I cannot lie. I’ve now been behind the curtain. One Class is indeed the bomb.com. I spent the first 20 minutes of my shift looking like the rookie that I was and grinning madly as I stretched out completely flat (one benefit of being 5’3″) while gripping the down comforter with one hand and the wine list with the other.
A few minutes later, Russ drifted back up to claim his seat and oust Jack…
…who protested a bit too loudly, apparently.
After two of the fastest hours of my life, Russ shuffled back to start the rotation for the fourth time (it was Jack and Tucker’s turn again)…at which point our
favorite airline shut that stuff down and requested that the two actual ticketed seat holders return to their seats (I mean, really. The nerve.)
So Russ and Theo finished the last two hours of the flight up in the Burj Khalifa while the rest of us were stuck back at the Tall Pines Motel. To one of our children, this was a brutal demonstration of inequality, particularly since he’d only gotten one trip up to the front while the youngest member of our family spent well over five hours there.
The struggle was real, folks.
Nonetheless, a little after 3 in the afternoon Honolulu time, we were in our hotel rooms and ready to go.
Four of us were quite excited to be back on solid ground and within walking distance of the ocean; one of us needed a little time to recoup from the travesty of missing out on a second shift in the upgraded seat.
When one goes to Honolulu, one should obviously take the time to experience Pearl Harbor, but when Russ suggested we sign up for the tour that was leaving our hotel the very next morning at 6 a.m., I originally balked.
Fortunately, Russ made the correct decision. Our entire family was wide awake and raring to go by 4 a.m.
And Pearl Harbor by morning’s light is spectacularly moving.
The tour is pretty much self-guided with the exception of the ferry ride out past the Arizona and the U.S.S. Missouri. We also toured the U.S.S. Bowfin, a submarine launched on December 7, 1942, exactly one year after the Pearl Harbor bombings. The submarine is only 311 feet long, yet housed between 70-80 sailors for months at a time. Going through this puppy in July really hit home just how hard it must’ve been to be a submariner. There’s no way I could have done it.
While waiting on our extremely verbose bus driver to return, we realized we were starving. As you might imagine, there’s not exactly a lot of dining options at a national memorial, so we wound up cobbling together a lunch of hot dogs and bad nachos…at 8:45 a.m. (The jet lag was for real, just like the indigestion.)
After recovering from the very hot and bumpy bus ride back to the hotel, we spent a little time on the beach and by the pool before heading out to hike Diamond Head Crater.
The crater was created by–duh–a volcanic explosion around 300,000 years ago. It’s not too strenuous a hike, but our Uber driver was a little shocked that we were heading there so late in the afternoon since they let the last folks onto the trail at 4:30 and the gates shut tight at 6. We were on the trail at 4:25.
Back at the bottom–well before 6 p.m., thank you very much–the boys had their first Hawaiian shave ice, which Theo said was even better than the snow cones at NYO. (There’s actually no comparison.)
Post-hike, we wandered around Waikiki and looked for something for dinner. We should’ve been able to find vittles that would appeal to all tastes at the International Market Place–a ginormous outdoor-ish shopping complex, but the late afternoon shave ice had abated some appetites, and all of us were exhausted. Jack, Theo, and I cut bait and headed back to the hotel to go to bed; Russ and Tucker dropped in to the Hawaiian equivalent of Willy’s, Oahu Mexican Grill, which Jack and I had actually discovered earlier in the day after the 8:45 a.m. “lunch” had worn off. Being a Willy’s connoisseur, Jack gave it two thumbs up.
Two days gone already. Time to venture outside of Honolulu and Waikiki!