Peeing in a port-a-potty.
I hear giggling next to me, through the plastic wall.
I wonder if something particularly amusing is happening inside Alex's private toilet.
I exit, ask him what all the laughter was about.
It was because he could hear me peeing.
After a day by myself, touring a lavender farm and a winery, I watch the sunset at the beach and then treat myself to dinner.
I tell the bartender to make me "something fruity, islandy. I'm turning 30, so something that captures that."
He comes back with an orange and pink icy blend, topped high above the rim of a martini glass.
"It's like the sunset," he says.
Later he brings me breaded monchong fish. I devour it in about three minutes.
Three kayaks are available for five of us. One is a single-rider. I volunteer for it, boasting to my crowd that I am strong.
In the ocean waves, I discover I am not too strong.
But I make it.
When we rest from our paddling to snorkel, I swim with sea turtles. They swim slowly, so I follow them until they surface. I surface with them, then immediately go back under to watch them some more.
Fish swim with them, chewing algae off the shells.
I try to dive, get very upset with myself for being unable to get deep enough to hear the whales. Begin to have existential crisis therapy conversation with my brother.
Brother's father-in-law swims over. "I see you chose to leave your life jacket on. Would you like a lesson in buoyancy next?"
Brother loses it laughing.
In the good news department, my existential crisis was averted.
Swim back to kayak to return life jacket.
Peel off snorkel mask temporarily.
Immediately drop goggles into ocean.
Kayak instructor makes comment about how he is willing to dive for my gear because I am "good looking."
I tell Alex this later.
"That was his pick up line?" he mocks.
Don't remember which day.
Lots of screaming in hostel.
Mouse in bathroom.
On the way to Molokini to snorkel, we are fed cinnamon rolls with liquidy icing. We grab them straight off the pan with our fingers.
I treat myself to a second cup of coffee.
On the way back, we eat one of the best meals I have during my vacation -- teriyaki chicken and rice.
A mama whale and her baby swim around our boat. We can see her dorsal fin.
Further out, we see a fluke, blowhole mist, and babies breaching. It's so cute to know they are playing.
My Mai Tai is empty. Boat staffperson asks, "Is this an acceptable situation?"
He gets me another.
Alex offers me his goggles to look at some fish in maybe the stillest ocean water I've ever experienced. It is like a cove yet not a cove.
Under the water, I hear giggling.
I surface and inquire.
"Your butt. It was up in the air."
I stare at him.
"What? I like your butt."
After eight (or more; we're not sure who to believe, the steptracker on A's phone or the promotional flyer at the hostel) miles of hiking, our tour guide tells us we have just a few switchbacks to the end of the trail.
Four miles later.
It was more than a few switchbacks. Though I have to say I maybe thank him? for not letting us in on the reality of the situation, at a time when our legs were fragile and vulnerable. At that point I am game to say our legs were even emotionally spent, having already exhausted their physicality.
After playing a game of hot-and-cold with Alex on the phone to locate each other, we meet in the underwear section of Sears.
He gives me popcorn.
He puts a pink plastic lei around my neck.
We go next door for margaritas and tacos.
He smells like sunscreen.
He ribs me for being grumpy (after waiting a very long time for a rental car).
I almost urp for the first time in nearly 10 years. My mouth waters and everything.
With hairpin turns and continually changing altitude, the bod just can't take it.
Alex rubs my hunched back on the side of the road.
Riley turns on Taylor Swift nice and loud in the car to drown out any sound that may -- but ultimately does not -- come from me.
I am upgraded to a ride in the front seat upon my return to the vehicle.