Current mood: blissful

Day Two of my rushed trip to paradise. I adore having wifi. I drag my laptop bag around Waikiki and boom! I have internet access!

Our crazy condo timeshare huckster Justin knocked on our door at seven am. And I mean knocked. I was awake since I lost the coin toss and got the crappy sofa bed - Clare got the comfy bed - but I merely opened the door and he flew into our room like a demented flea. Poor Clare sat up in bed and Justin couldn't keep his eyes off her titties in her tight T-shirt.  

Somehow he got the idea she wanted to have dinner with him, despite her assurances that she "would rather die."

"I know a great little Italian place..." he prattled and went off to shanghai our fellow travelers for an orientation breakfast.

Clare has not spoken to me since. Somehow it's my fault that I let him into our room. We did strike a united front when she faked a fainting spell that got us out of the breakfast, a lovely two hour condo pitch at noon and oh yes, the afternoon sales film. "Ninety Minutes of Pure Pleasure!"

Yeah, right. Clare did a beautiful acting job. You never saw a girl faint so much. Yet, despite all protestations, I noticed my lovely BFF took her time preparing herself for her evening. I have no idea where she found the scrap of fabric she calls a dress, but I would have felt better had she left out room wearing a muumuu, a strand of garlic around her neck and a crucifix in her hand.

I tried to look menacing when Justin came to collect her, cracking my knuckles and clearing my throat. It didn't work. He asked me if I was coming down with something.

"Behave yourself," I yelled after him and I swear I heard him snicker. So while Clare was on her date, I took myself off to Sunset on the Beach, which owing to the holiday weekend was like being on a Los Angeles freeway with a bit of sun, sand and Sudden Tan thrown in the mix.

I've written about Sunset on the Beach - in The Forbidden Island to be exact, but this weekend's version was amazing. The party started today at four pm with music, arts and crafts booths, food and at sunset, The Devil Wears Prada played on a big screen for the hushed crowd. In my mind's eye, I pictured my characters Johnny and Aloha here, maybe Kimo and Lopaka watching the movie too and I wandered off to the roasted chesnut cart where the little Japanese family showed me how to crack open hot chesnuts using a little plastic thumb tool.

Canned Primo beer recently returned to the islands and my immediate neighbors on the beach handed me an ice cold one in exchange for some malasadas (Portuguese donuts). After the movie was over, we all immitated Meryl Streep: That is all, as we shook out blankets, towels, laptop bags and made one final pass at the food booths. Loading up on carbs, I walked along Kalakaua Avenue feeling the warm tradewind across my face, marveling at my luck.

My thoughts went from truing to imagine Waikiki as it once was to wanting to check out the two hottest gay bars in Honolulu - for research purposes you know. My best local friend Craig said he would find somebody to go with me tomorrow night. He went with me on my last trip but freaked out when some guy touched his butt. I promised him I would never do it again, I guess he hasn;t forgiven me...

Outside Starbucks, I ran into some hula dancers who perform at the Polynesian Cultural Center. They told me how great the Fire Knife Contest was two weeks ago. I asked them how last year's champ Andrew 'Umi' Sexton did defending his title and apparently he had a bad shoulder injury, but still turned up to do his thing.

"He'll be back," they said confidently.

Yeah, and so will I. They will drag my reluctant ass back to L.A in three days, but my heart, my butt and my laptop belong to Sunset on the Beach.

Aloha oe,

A.J.

Currently listening : Hawaiian Hula Eyes By The Brothers Cazimero