I'm not stoned--just lost.

Today I went to Hopuna, or whatever the fucking beach was called. I don't know these Hawaiin names. They're so odd, the names all start to sound the same.

"Yeah, to get there you take the highway to Lako, take a left on Lako, and a right on Mahuahua. To get to the beach, you take a left on Ponciani to Waimea to Waimea, and then take a left on Waimeaa and when you get to Waimeaa, take a right. If you get to the Royal Waimeaa, you've gone too far. But if you're at the Waimeaa Beach, go to the next one, because that's not the right one. You want the FURTHER Waimeaa Beach. For dinner we'll have Waimeaa steaks dipped in Waimeaa sauce with Waimeaa Waimeaa. Waimeaa?"

So Hopuna. Gorgeous. When you think of the 'perfect' beach, this is it: white sands, blue water, gradual slope into the water, slightly cool (but not too cool) water. Perfect, perfect, perfect. No girls to look at, though. I got bored and left after an hour, despite being at one of the World's Top Beaches. There wasn't much to do, really. You know, you can look at the palm trees and admire the blue water for so long...and then? I don't know. Harrass other tourists?

So I hopped back in the car and drove to our family friend's candy factory where I made some chocolate covered white pineapple, chocolate covered cashews, and a chocolate Elvis portrait. I was supposed to drive from the candy factory to his house, where I was to wait and meet him and his wife and step-daughter for dinner.

Instead, I was talking on the phone telling a friend how awesome Hawaii is. I was admiring the sunset, and telling my friend how fucking far apart everything is. Then, I see planes. That can't be. The only place that has large planes is the airport, and that's about 45 minutes out of town PAST his house...Then my phone rings on the other line as I made the connection in my head.

Somehow I'd passed his street, passed Palahni (the major thoroughfare that leads to downtown), passed about 100 other landmarks and ended out at the fucking airport.

"Where are you?"

"I think...I think I'm at the airport."

He laughed. "Where are you really?"

"The airport. I see planes. Big fucking planes."

Long silence. Then he said I had to have been stoned to drive for 45 minutes without realizing I was lost, and that he's going to tell my dad.