More tales from the Islands...

Sorry it’s taken me a minute to write more about the Hawaii trip. Life, sleep, and general chaos got in the way. But let’s pick up where we left off.

We had just arrived at our suite and were doing that polite-but-impatient waiting thing for our luggage so we could unpack and start exploring like proper cruise people. I forgot to mention that our concierge, Mareike, had already stopped by to introduce herself—very poised, very “I run this ship and also your life now.” Then we met Ramadhan, one of our butlers, who brought us salmon canapés while we waited. Nothing says “vacation mode activated” like being handed tiny fish snacks by a man in a crisp uniform.

Our luggage eventually arrived with Emmanuel, one of our stewards from the Philippines. Our other steward, Lea—also from the Philippines—was equally delightful. These two were sunshine in human form. Every day they made the beds, tidied the room, and in the evenings they left us towel animals that honestly had more personality than some people I’ve worked with.

Once we unpacked, we wandered up to the deck to watch the Aloha sail-away party. It looked like it might rain, but the clouds were just being dramatic. We had a gorgeous view of Diamond Head and the Aloha Tower clock as we waited to leave port. Naturally, we settled in with mai tais, strawberry smoothies spiked with rum, and blue Hawaiis. Hydration is important.

After we finally pulled away from the pier, we hit the Sports Bar buffet for something resembling dinner before heading back to the suite. At this point, we were all running on fumes and fruity alcohol.

Now, let me paint you a picture of the sleeping arrangements, because this suite was something else.

You walk in and there’s a hallway. To the left: a big bathroom with a soaking tub and a door that leads into the master bedroom. The master had a queen bed, a vanity/desk, a closet, a TV, and a sliding glass door out to the balcony. Very “I could live here if they’d let me.”

To the right of the hallway: a massive walk-in closet with enough space to store a small family—or, in my case, sleep in. It had cabinets, hanging space, and a pull-down bed.

Straight ahead: the living area with a couch, two chairs, a coffee table, a curio cabinet, a desk, and an entertainment center with a 19-inch TV, DVD player, and CD player. The sofa pulled out into a queen bed. There was a floor-to-ceiling window on one side and another sliding glass door to the balcony on the other.

And oh, the balcony. Four chairs, ocean breeze, endless waves. We spent a ridiculous amount of time out there. When we left port, we waved at people on the pier like we were starring in a Love Boat reboot—minus the confetti, because apparently the environment matters now.

Once the shoreline disappeared, it was bedtime. Mom and Sandra took the master bedroom. Quanna claimed the sofa sleeper. And I took the pull-down bunk in the closet. Now, I haven’t been in the closet in years, but let me tell you—I thrived in this one. Cozy, quiet, door I could close on the world… it was practically a spa retreat.

Before we turned in, our other butler, Ryan, stopped by to introduce himself. He and Ramadhan would be bringing us treats every day like some kind of magical snack elves. Ryan also came to ask which three bottles of alcohol we wanted—complimentary, because we were in the Owner’s Suite. We chose rum, tequila, and vodka. A balanced diet.

Alright, that’s enough for now. More soon—and pictures are coming in the next day or so!

Tales from the Islands

Hi, everyone!

I figured it was time to give you the scoop on the Hawaii trip before I forget the details—or block them out for dramatic effect later. Let me just start by saying: the service has been ridiculous. Like, “is this real life or did I accidentally wander into a travel commercial?” levels of incredible. The whole trip has been everything I hoped for… with one tiny disappointment, which I’ll get to eventually because I believe in suspense.

So, picture it: the last few days before departure. Aunt Sandra rolled in Sunday around noon, ready for adventure and bargain hunting. Naturally, we hit Mervyn’s, Payless, and Ross—because nothing says “tropical getaway” like discount shopping and a cart full of things you absolutely didn’t need until you saw them on clearance.

Monday I worked from 6:30am to 3pm, because apparently I enjoy suffering, and then rushed home to pack. Meanwhile, Quanna was supposed to arrive at 10pm, but life had other plans. Her mom’s flight from Savannah was delayed, and on top of that, her Aunt Irene had passed earlier in the week. So by the time Quanna finally made it to my house, it was 2am. And because the universe has a sense of humor, we had to be up at 5am for the limo. Three hours of sleep before a major trip? Sure. Why not. I love chaos.

The limo showed up early—because of course it did—and our driver, Josh, was charming enough to make us forget we were basically sleepwalking. He whisked us to the airport, we checked our bags at curbside, and made our way to Hawaiian Airlines flight 19.

The flight itself was uneventful, which is exactly how I like my flights: boring, smooth, and with minimal screaming children. We landed in Honolulu around 12:15pm and headed to baggage claim, where we met our next limo driver, Steven. He brought us a luggage cart like some sort of airport fairy godmother, then went to fetch the limo.

Bags arrived quickly, Steven loaded them into the stretch limo, and off we went… to the Hilton. Where we were not staying.

So there I am, standing in the Hilton lobby like, “Wow, this is lovely,” only to realize—nope. Wrong hotel. We were supposed to be at the Hyatt Regency. I called Steven, who had that “oh no” tone in his voice, and he swooped back to rescue us from our accidental luxury squatters’ situation.

We finally got checked in at the Hyatt and headed up to our room on the 31st floor. The view of Diamond Head? Absolutely effing fantastic. Like, “I suddenly understand why people move to Hawaii and never come back” fantastic.

We freshened up and wandered over to the International Marketplace. The girls shopped, I supervised (which is a full-time job), and then we all hit the bar. Mom, Sandra, Quanna, and I had a few drinks—okay, more than a few—and laughed ourselves silly before collapsing into bed around 8:30pm. Vacation bedtime hits different.

The next morning, we grabbed breakfast and took a cab to Pearl Harbor. This was my third visit, and somehow it gets more powerful every time. The Arizona Memorial feels like stepping into a sacred space—quiet, reverent, and heavy with history. The video before the tour lays out the events of December 7, 1941, and then you take a tender boat to the memorial itself, built over the remains of the USS Arizona. Over 1,100 men are still entombed there. It’s sobering, heartbreaking, and important. And the oil still leaking after all these decades? A reminder that history doesn’t stay in the past as neatly as we’d like.

After the tour, we headed back to the Hyatt, checked out, and grabbed a taxi to the Aloha Tower Pier to board our cruise. Because we booked one of the Owner’s Penthouse Suites (I know, I know—fancy), check-in took about 30 minutes. Then suddenly we were standing in our three-room suite aboard the Norwegian Wind, trying to pretend we weren’t about to move in permanently.

The suite had everything: a living room with a pull-out sofa, giant windows, a private balcony, a master bedroom with another balcony door (because why not), a bathroom with both a tub and a shower, and a walk-in closet big enough to rent out on Airbnb. After unpacking, we set off to explore the ship like kids at Disneyland.

More to come later—because trust me, this adventure is just getting started.

—Ray