Kumo'oana Wana Leia

Eight days. Eight. OCHO. That's how many days of mindless Hawaiian relaxation it took for me to even begin to feel relaxed. The day I leave.

I'm sitting in the airport now, waiting for my delayed flight to redden my eyes en route to a twelve-hour layover in San Francisco. But fret not; I am actually glad to be going. I had enough fun. Just enough.

Somewhere in between watching Roy Disney flattering my little brother, spending time with his team of unbelievably cool and interesting young soon-to-be-famous sailors, and having two beautiful Romanian girls shout at each other in the street while arguing about my misperceived financial responsibilities to a certain Senor Frog, I realized two things:

1: I have a pretty cool life
2: I miss my friends

Yeah, it's great to wander around a tropical paradise where tourists are loathed and easily identifiable thanks both to our skins and our general demeanors, but what's the point in striking out with at least three girls in one night, being carded by bouncers of bars I'm not even going into, or trying not to leer at my brother's 18-22 yr. old female associates without my friends around to jeer at me?

All I'm saying is, next time I do Hawaii, I'm going to have to take some friends along.

That and not share a hotel room with my sister.