Aloha. Mahalo. Whatever That Means.

I have a dream.

Rather, I had a dream until last week, at which point my dream came true and now I have to think up something bigger and better!

I've forever had pretty much the same vacation vision: Me sitting on a beach in front of the ocean, reading, being served elaborately froofy cocktails by a young, dark, scantily-clad native man. By 'man' I mean 18 is an acceptable age, but absolutely no older than that. And by 'scantily-clad' I of course mean he's wearing a loin cloth.

So a little while ago I met this guy, we'll call him "Paul". We kind of hit it off. Like immediately, and a lot. One evening we were drinking beers while he told me a story about a recent getaway he'd taken, in which he described almost the exact scene of my fantasy trip, minus the native cocktail servant -- er, I mean server. I said, "wow, that sounds incredible. That's actually kind of my dream vacation," and I added the minor details that made mine different. Then off we went onto other topics.

Approximately four days later, I received a text asking how difficult it would be for me to get away for about a week. Right before Christmas. As a store owner. With two kids to arrange care for. "Ha!" I thought. "He's crazy." Crazy like a FOX!!

In two weeks' time we were riding in the shuttle from Park SFO to the airport. I leaned toward him and asked if he liked Christmas Carols, as they were merrily being pumped through the speakers above our heads. The woman sitting next to us abruptly stopped what she was doing, looked over at us for a full three seconds, and then busied herself again. Since I was blissed out on my 'I'm About to Fly to Hawaii' high, I decided not to say "yeah, I haven't known him long enough to know whether or not he likes Christmas Carols and yet we are obviously IN LOVE and going ON VACATION together, so what you nosy bitch!" Because I'm classy like that.

Once in Hawaii, as we were driving away from the Honolulu airport in our rental car, my new boyfriend turned to me and said "let's go make some memories!!"  I'm absolutely not kidding, he really said that. Out loud. I knew for sure at that moment (after I'd caught my breath from laughing so much) that it was going to be a magical week.

Having never been to Hawaii before, I honestly didn't know what to expect. I'd heard tales of the turquoise waters and white sandy beaches, but all of that seemed so not even possible to me that I decided not to get my hopes up. I'm now here to tell you that the water is, indeed, turquoise. The sand is white and sandy. It's fucking paradise, people. Paradise!

Despite the continuous rainstorms that rolled in the second our plane landed, we managed to get some Reading On The Beach While Drinking time in. I think the svelte and silent young man meant to be bringing me drinks adorned with umbrellas was probably taking shelter somewhere, shivering. I didn't really notice his absence, what with the incredibly handsome man lying next to me on our big-ass beach towel, handing me bottles of Primo from time to time. Better yet, I was allowed to touch him without worrying about having security called on me!

When the rain drove us away from the beach, I allowed myself to be taken on hikes. I am not much of a 'hiker', and in fact had been congratulating myself on finally finding a man that didn't think this would be a fun activity for us to share. That's the fun part of traveling with someone you barely know - all the new discoveries! Turns out my guy not only enjoys hikes, he likes hikes that go up steep mountains, and in the jungle! I'm pretty sure he found my bitching and complaining amusing and adorable. I have to admit, getting soaked in a warm rain while you stand looking at a tropical jungle waterfall is kind of cool. Because the key word there is WARM. Otherwise it would have sucked.

As a reward for all of the hiking, he took me on a tour of the finest dive bars Oahu has to offer, where we drank many Mai Tais. Well, for one night anyway. A Mai Tai hangover is not a pretty one. Also, when in a scary bar trying not to get into a fight with a local biker chick after apparently getting too handsy with her date (I just really wanted him to play my songs on the jukebox!), it's best not to be drinking something with fruit spilling out of it, because that would have made me look like a wimp. Beer is best for those situations, I found. Running doesn't hurt, either.

Since returning from The Island (I just said that!), I've found it difficult adjusting to things like "work" and "alarm clocks" and "work". But Paul's suggestion of immediately beginning to plan the next trip is helping all of that.

Now to figure out what to dream up next. Open to suggestions here!