I had a scheme that was percolating for a couple of years and it came to fruition a few days ago. I stayed on Maui in 2011, right before I had my IUD taken out, and right before I got plunged into court with SeaFed. This was also right before Strudel’s grandfather died. A momentous year. I knew that Hawaii would be a once in a blue moon thing, not a yearly thing, but I was hoping to go back someday after that nice trip. Before that I hadn’t been since 1996. As court dragged on and the calendar year flipped over to 2013, I thought to myself, wouldn’t it be nice to celebrate being all done with court by going back to this peaceful place that made me so happy? It was my carrot, aside from just being done with court, of course.

So the girls had midwinter break, and we went for it.

Strudel was very excited, since it was her first flight ever. When we were on the plane getting ready to take off, I realized I had my first flight ever at eight as well, but it was about one of the many times my mother took me and ran off. It was scary and exciting and I felt like a fugitive, since we left very early in the morning. I was sad to leave my friends without saying goodbye. I remember getting a little Delta wings pin. A lot of my childhood was mixed happy-sad like that. This is terrifically corny but I actually teared up a little since I thought Strudel’s flight would just be happy.

Everything was going great until about a day and a half in. Franny got lashed by some jellyfish bits and was experiencing some joint swelling. I fretted, since she’d never been exposed before, waiting to see if she would have a bad reaction. Eventually, I had to lay down since I had somehow tired myself out with worrying. This was kind of weird, but I shrugged it off, figuring I was in a different timezone and tired out from swimming, so must have been a little off. We decided to stay out of the water for a while and drive up to ‘Iao Valley to hike around there.

On the way back I was not able to drive and drowsed in the front seat. We had stopped for some shave ice to revive the kids a little after a muggy hike and elevation climb. I was getting nauseated and was thinking about asking P. to pull the car over when Strudel went off in the back seat.

“HURF! HURF!” Here came the shave ice and the loco moco she’d had for breakfast. Dear god. We parked on the shoulder of the highway and I extracted her from the backseat of the rental car, her legs covered in pink rice. Welp, that did it for me. I joined her in the bushes for a sing-a-long. Franny remained in the backseat with her fingers in her ears and her eyes screwed shut. She has told me that vomiting on car rides is rampant at her dad’s house and she’s an old hand at tuning it all out. She was gone.

P. sacrificed his shirt getting the kid cleaned up. We climbed back into the car, shaky, wondering about what happens when you technicolor yawn into a rental car. Somehow we made it back to the hotel. My guts were full of lava and I could barely walk. Would I make it back to the room? I wondered how many old people I could horrify. Should I go for a discreet trashcan vom, or should I go whole hog, golf course lawn sprinkler style? I got back to the room and was in for 12 hours of fun after that. Strudel was sick at the same time I was. We spent the night alternating being sick with dozing. After I recovered, then it was P’s turn to go down. He was ill during the day and I entertained the girls on my own, still tired and a little shaky.

I’m pretty sure I traced it to some dodgy macaroni salad. Franny has the supertaster thing going on and I think she knew it was off, but she wasn’t sure how, exactly. All she knew was that she didn’t care for it, so she didn’t get ill. She did, however, have the virus. This was part two.

I had a couple of days’ respite after that, during which I ate fruit and more fruit and a little yogurt and was very tired. I had thrown up rice, meat, and fish so none of that sounded good. It still doesn’t, actually. I will ask, very dramatically, crap, what am I supposed to eat for the rest of my life now? I cannot live on fruit forever.

This is me attempting to have a nice dinner out a couple of days after food poisoning. I ordered tomato salad, cucumber salad, and a side of raw tofu in ponzu sauce. Yes, three salads for dinner, basically. I should look glowy and rested but instead I look waxy.

On the weekend weddings were happening in our “backyard.” This one was a noisy group. The girls had fun rubbernecking but many of the wedding guests glared at us for gawping. I guess they didn’t appreciate our cool “hanging out in towels” look.

Then the virus hit me. We figured out later that P. had food poisoning and the virus all at once, and he came out the other side in about twenty-four hours, which is so lucky for me, since I needed a lot of help, especially getting back. I ran a fever on the whole flight home and coughed myself hoarse in spite of being medicated to the gills.

So here I am sitting on the couch, still feeling like I was hit repeatedly with a bat three days after my “vacation.” What a weird trip! MAHALO BITCHES.

“More anything?”

“More everything!”