Regarding 5/28/2010

Just east of Waikiki Beach lies Diamond Head, a blasted old volcanic crater/fully operational military base/tourist attraction. My cousin Dormain and her boyfriend Anthony were up early and eager to get started. So at about 10am we made our way to the massive attraction to see what all the hoopla was about.

Diamond Head is a bizarrely barren place amongst all the jungle lushery. Brown grass, stunted trees, and dust remind one of Arizona. The trail is paved and full of tourists. It's kind of weird. I think we were all a bit disappointed, wanting something more challenging. The trail began in the center and climbed to the southern lip of the crater. At the top the trail moved into some old military installations including a tunnel blasted through rock, an extra steep staircase, and a strange sort of bunker with low spy ports for blazing invaders.

On top of the bunker was some kind of guard tower with a splendid view of the southern beach area including Honolulu and Waikiki. We hung out there for a bit, taking pictures and noting how shallow the water was far out to sea. Dormain observed that the lighthouse below looked like it belonged in a toy train set. We all agreed the view was worth the crappy hike.

Afterwards we made our way to what was allegedly the best Tiki bar in Honolulu. I was unimpressed. It had a country club feel, complete with overpriced uninspired food and cocktail drinking geriatrics. On the taxi ride back to Waikiki I nearly fell asleep as the 78 year old Korean driver enthusiastically described his life story and all his business ambitions. Nap time.

After a failed nap I met again with my cousin and Anthony for some drinks at the hotel bar. We vacated as soon as the awful Karaoke began. Seriously, that shit belongs behind closed doors. Unfortunately the hot tub was shut down for the night. My companions, having woken up extra early that morning were exhausted, so I left them to their own devices. I wandered around on the beach for a bit, observing all the douchey jocks and their brain dead girlfriends dance to shitty house music. Waikiki is lame at night. Scratch that, Waikiki is lame 24/7! If not for the beaches and the weather I'm not sure why anyone would live here.

As I walk the streets back to my crash site a hooker tells me to lighten up. Apparently I'm sulking. She then offers to pepper spray who ever it is who pissed me off. I want to see that. I wanna see the scrawny pink-eye slut in the yellow skimp dress pepper spray some douche-bag on the streets of Waikiki. That would be the perfect icing for this most awkward cake.