9:13am- Wander around Kona farmer’s market admiring delicious fruits and vegetables I’m too shy to purchase. Inhale their sweet scents instead, along with tropical spore previously unknown to effect humans. During autopsy, doctors coin it Mad Mango Disease due to my succulent orangey pulp of a brain.
11:00am- Make pilgrimage to Kona Brewing Company to indulge on deliciously greasy pizza. In rare event, also order beer. Am drunk and engorged with white flour crust all before noon. Slip into high-carb coma. Friends pull plug.
1:54pm- Frolick and splash at Waialea beach (aka: Beach 69). Waves crash around us as me and friends navigate unseen lava boulders beneath the water’s surface. Mistaking one such boulder for oversized carnivorous fish, freak out, slip on rock, get pummeled by wave, manage to drag self up onto beach sputtering and spent. Hit on head by falling coconut.
2:31pm- Drive back across island up through picturesque Waimea area famous for its Paniolo cowboys. Shot in head by stray arrow.
3:49pm- Drop best friend off at airport. Don’t want to see her leave. Clutch her ankle as she drags me across pavement. It’s not as bad as if I was hanging onto bumper of speeding car, but still, internal injuries are amassed.
4:01pm- Travel back to friends’ house to prep for Christmas Eve feast. They are set to receive 20 or so guests, mostly made up of work friends orphaned on the island for the holidays. Lamb is prepared. Deep fried turkey as well. The feast begins. Toasts are made. Merriment is had. Knives are flying. I get stabbed in the eye before being mistaken for Roast Beast.
8:44pm- Feel shy. Turn into wallflower. Friends forget to water me.
Other than that, pretty good day.