Super whiny post. You've been warned.
So, where were we? Oh yeah, my hellacious Boxing Day flight from Pittsburgh to Phoenix.
I did, in fact, survive that flight without medical attention. I still don't know how. I stumbled into the Phoenix airport with almost no hearing and chugged down Excedrin and two Sudafed at the first water fountain I could find, giving up all hope of sleeping on the next plane.
I sincerely apologize to the man and small child sitting next to me on the second flight, for both my appearance and behavior. I really wanted to talk to you. I just couldn't hear you.
Fast forward six hours, and we were landing in Kaua'i. With the aid of my OTC crystal meth ingredients, it was only 50% as painful this time. Like being stabbed in the eardrums with crayons instead of screwdrivers.
And there went the last of my hearing capacity for the next three days. The guy at the rental car office and the hotel concierge said nice things to me, or maybe they asked if I needed an ambulance. I'll never know.
|Here is a completely accurate depiction of me upon arrival.|
At this point, it didn't occur to me that it was weird to be sweaty hot and freezing cold at the same time. (Please note infinity scarf and tank top.)
The fact that I regularly wear socks with Minnetonkas is a subject for another blog post.
That pretty much sums up the first four days in Kaua'i. Throbbing ears and sinuses, total deafness, globs of unspeakably disgusting fluids dripping out of my nose, down my throat, and out of my ears. Yeah.
My husband asked me repeatedly if I needed to see a doctor, but in my semi-lucid state, I kept insisting that if I could JUST get a good night's sleep, I would be FINE, thank you.
A good night's sleep. HA. Our "newly renovated" Marriott room contained the most uncomfortable mattress I have encountered in a LONG time. I could feel every individual spring in my back. What the fuck is that? How do they make a a mattress feel like that? Even my 30-year-old Penn State dorm room beds were more comfortable.
I woke up every.single.time I rolled over for 10 nights in a row. Add the scratchy-dampish sheets and I felt like I was in a never-ending nightmare. Do not underestimate the importance of a comfortable bed, EVER.
Even after my hearing returned and I could breathe out of my nose again, the sleeping situation didn't improve.
I have never said this before about any trip, to any country, with any type of lodging, but:
I wanted to go home.
Everything just felt off. Sitting on the beach in a swimsuit with a book is basically my favorite thing on the planet. I do it for a solid week in South Carolina every summer. But in Hawaii, I just couldn't get comfortable.
I was completely claustrophobic in the hotel room. As soon as Mr. Magpie closed the shutters in the evening, blocking out every molecule of sunlight/moonlight, I was on edge. (And no, leaving them open was not an option, thanks to my husband's paranoid delusion that someone might, god forbid, peek through our windows at him. On the 4th floor. Facing the beach. Right.)
Despite the beautiful canyons and beaches and the Hawaiian monk seal that swam right up to us on the beach, despite the fact that I had 11 days ALONE in paradise with my kind, generous, adorable husband, I actually felt homesick.
I felt so bad for Mr. Magpie. He planned the whole thing, after I made a big deal about going on a big trip, and staying somewhere nice, because it's our honeymoon, and we only get one.
Maybe it speaks to how much I like my life that I really, really missed home. I wanted to be in Pennsylvania with the snow and my kitchen and the cat and our own bed. I'm really not that big of a loser. I've been a lot of places, and stayed in some really questionable establishments, but I was never homesick, even when I was very young.
Mr. Magpie kept driving me to scenic overlooks. There's a lot of scenery in Kaua'i. Which is good, because there's not much else. Seriously, it's the West Virginia of Hawaii. Lots of pickup trucks and rusted out boats in the yards, most of the restaurants are taco trucks, and everything closes at 8pm.
|Scenic Overlook #84103. At least I got a little tan, right?|
And it was cancelled due to high surf.
We re-booked; it was cancelled again.
By then, it was time to go home. Yes, I'm completely bummed that I didn't get to snorkel, but by that time I really just wanted to get out of Kaua'i. We got a couple's massage instead. That was nice.
We had a red-eye back to Phoenix. In the security line, the TSA agent said to me, "You look tired."
|11 days here. I don't know where I went wrong.|
When we landed in Pittsburgh my heart literally skipped a beat. I was so happy to be home. There was snow on the runway. I'm an asshole.
But oh my god, is our bed comfortable. And our sheets are so soft.
So what did I learn on my honeymoon?
- Don't go to Kaua'i unless you surf or hike. I don't do either, and on this particular trip, I certainly wasn't in the mood to start.
- I can't stay in a hotel room for more than 2 nights or I will go BAT.SHIT.CRAZY. Just ask my husband.
- Restaurants are important. The next time we go to an island, it better be one known for food. 11 days of tacos and pork sandwiches didn't work for me.
- Pack more books. A lot more books. I read the six that I had packed and ran out. The only place on the island to buy more books was Wal Mart, and the selection was so comically depressing that I just bought trashy magazines instead.
- No more vacations at Christmas. Unless it's to a ski resort. The cognitive dissonance of going from snowy/Christmassy to tropical/summery was too much for my brain to handle.
- Hawaiians are the friendliest people on Earth. I want to go back someday... just not to Kaua'i And not during the season of high surf.
So that was my honeymoon. It wasn't our first vacation together, and it won't be our last, so I'm just writing the whole thing off as one bad trip. Happens to everyone, right?