My trip to Hawaii: from A to Z; or, Lost in the Supermarket

Aloft aboard a noisy 747 (it's strange, relearning the feeling of it), I watch my tiny island
disappear behind the wings, quickly lost in an overwhelming sea of
Blue. Blue, blue, blue floods my tiny window view. It begins in turquoise, clinging to the sandy
shore, then weeping itself into a deep as azure as the island disappears in the distance,
beyond our limited sphere of vision.
Colored clouds serve as our guideposts, pointing our way toward Hawaii. Like the sea, they too
metamorphose--first a mist, then light, fluffy wisps, then puffy cotton ball clouds, too perfect
for real life. We chase the sunset the whole flight, nipping at its heels.
Dark arrives, at long last, as we near the Honolulu Airport and descend into the glowing
phosphorescence of Civilization.
Emerging from the jetway, I see people, white people, EVERYWHERE. I feel like I'm living in a
Dr. Seuss poem, yet it takes not fishes or driving dogs as its subject, but people.

"Fat people, thin people, short people, tall people,
Old people, young people, big people, small people.
Gee! There are people everywhere--it's frenziness beyond compare--"

my poetic musings are interrupted by a glorious vision. A glimmering dream of green and
white. The long-awaited mermaid heralds my joy, singing the siren song of civilization. I've
no choice but to follow. Free will is a non-entity at this point.

How sweet it is! How rich, how creamy~nirvana has arrived in the (not-quite-so) surprising
form of a 24-oz travel cup (made from several percent post-consumer materials, they'll have
you know): a venti (VENTI!) Caramel Macchiato. Extra caramel. Happiness slides over me
like a drug.
I have officially entered the United Starbucks of America. Screw "immigration"--
Starbucks is my customs.
Joyously, I cry, deep in my soul:

"Kosrae, farewell,
Lihue, hello!"

My honeymoon has just begun, however.
Never before has a simple trip to Safeway so overwhelmed/overjoyed/unnerved/fulfilled me. A
whole AISLE of sliced bread?!
O the wonder! O the extravagance! O the gluttonous capitalist excesses of my homeland that I
have so long (and completely unbeknownst to me) sorely missed. And yet what is that sound?
That dull crash in the distance?
Poipu beach calls! Sun, sand, surf! Best yet, the opportunity to lie around (even walk around!) in
a bikini and short shorts! Will wonders never cease?

Quite knackered from this exhausting day of America, I chill out with a mai tai as I
(psychologically) stretch and purr.
Rest of the trip flies by in a blur, a flurried montage of images; images which become barely
discernible as the week speeds by, our surroundings clear at first, then becoming a blur,
almost in the same peculiar way that people on a subway platform melt into each other as
the train speeds up before, finally, disappearing from view entirely as you plunge into the
dark ahead:

Singing "Grease" in the rain, wiggling my ass across a Hanalei street as I revel in a moment,

Trying a new drink every time (every time) we pass a Starbucks,

Up in the air, flying across a green river valley on a zipline as I scream delightedly and throw
a shaka sign to anyone watching,

Vying for the "Craziest Snorkeler Ever" award with my mom, as we fight five foot waves and
a beastly current in order to meet our stated objective of "seeing fish on the east side of the
island with these snorkels we've just rented, dammit!"

Watching Indiana Jones swashbuckle his way through another adventure (followed, of course,
by repeated, possibly tunefully humming/singing of said film's extremely catchy theme song
throughout the rest of the trip when I think no one else is listening)--
Xhausted (c'mon, give me a break--I really don't care to discuss the "x-raying" of my
baggage, and there are no xylophones--at least that I saw--on Oahu or Kauai), I pour myself
into my seat on the plane.
Lucky You will be my farewell to American culture. Lucky me, indeed.
Zooming back through the clouds, I look back on my brief, confusing (and yet, ultimately)
joyous encounter with the States. Vacation's over, back to the "real world." Good thing my
real world is paradise.