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