he bus came to another stop because of the Olympics), we made it to another that would bring us to the Seattle airport just in time to catch our flight. Theoretically. What actually happened was a bit more frustrating. When crossing the US/Canadian border, shuttle buses go through a more stringent inspection than cars. Everyone has to get out, bring their luggage into a building, have luggage scanned and go through customs. Usually you can get through with no dramas. On this particular day, as things sometimes go, we had to wait for a few other buses in front of us. When we were finally (after about a half hour wait) pulling up for our turn, the bus driver came back onto the bus, quite flustered. Apparently the customs officers had gone on lunch. All of them. At the same time. For over half an hour. Who does that?! I am ashamed to admit that it was the US border officers. Not Canadian. Canadians would have probably hustled us through, maple leafs floating down with a light rain of maple syrup - all while singing "Oh Canada." After sweating and dreading the impending missed flight, we finally made it to the airport. We ran up to the counter only to find out that we missed check in by minutes. Luckily, the airline agent quickly found us another flight (for free!) that would connect us to our Honlulu flight. PHEW!! We were so relieved and were finally able to breathe.
Many hours later we stepped off our plane onto lucious island soil. My brother Danny moved to Hawaii less than a year ago in search of adventure and greener pastures. I think he has found both. Dan met us in the airport looking tanned and relaxed. We needed both of those things. Because our flight got in so late, we basically got to Dan's house, met his roommates, blew up a mattress and crashed. Ahhhh.
The following day, Dan took us to Honolulu's main tourist location: Waikiki. We were in search of beach and the legendary Puka Dog. On the plane, a few ladies went on and on about the best hot dogs they've ever had. Now, I'm not a hot dog person, but these hot dogs peaked even my interest.
Puka Dogs was a bit tucked away but we were really happy we found it. It's a tiny shop with just enough room to order and a few chairs outside. But don't let that stop you. Puka.dogs.are.amazing. You get to choose between a keilbasa style meaty meat meat dog (my words) or a vegetarian dog. Then you choose your mayo (jalapeno up to habenero), fruti relish (banana, pineapple, mango, etc) and mustard (different fruity sour mustards). The bun is super fresh and is shoved onto a heated hot dog shaped point, creating a perfect, toasted hole in the center of the bun. The word "puka" in Hawaiian means "hole." Oh! Now I get it! The sauces are drizzled into the hole and then the hot dog is tucked into it's perfect hot dog shaped hole. It was in a word, glorious. Clearly - I just wrote an entire paragraph on processed meat.
With bellies full, and backs warm, we headed to the beach. Waikiki may be a touristy beach, but it was a nice beach. We napped in the sand and cooled off in the ocean. Shaved ice eventually peaked our interest and we had to partake. I didn't realize they would be so massive! Tasted like snow and sugar. And food coloring. I could only take so much.
Sun ✔ Beach ✔ Hot dogs ✔ Sugar ✔
Basically a very successful first day in Hawaii.
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