My first visit to Hawai'i, when I was thirteen, still holds some strong memories for me. There was the intense humidity when we arrived at midnight; the glorious carpet of stars as we checked into our condo; the pleasure and pain of riding the waves that crashed over a sharp coral reef; and, most poignantly, there was the underage nightclub called Banana Moon that was the site of my first ever rejection at a bar.
That was nearly fifteen years ago but the lush greenery, endless waves and dripping sweet pineapple from that trip haunted my expectations as I boarded a plane in Vancouver. Outside, a cold wind was blowing the rain even harder than usual. I pulled out a book, nestled deeper into my seat, and waited for the tropics to arrive.