18 years ago

I was 19 years old.


It was my first solo trip. Me and the boy were going to visit the boyfriend/baby daddy. He was stationed at Kaneohe Bay in Oahu. He’d been there for about a year, and I had been DYING to go visit and get laid lei’d. (To-may-to..To-mah-to)

I had taken time off work, I was going to stay with a couple he knew who had a small apartment in Honolulu. Seven days. I was going to go to the beach, see the sights, and go to a Hula show. He was going to take leave, so we could do all that and whatever else we could squeeze in during my time there.

I was excited. And nervous. I was going to take a 5 hour flight with a 2 year old. Alone.

He was there to meet us when we got off the plane (Do you know how long ago it was when you could be standing at the gate to hug people as soon as deplaned? A LIFETIME ago. Damn! I’m old). He drove us around in his friend’s car, took me to the base to introduce me to his friends. We went out for dinner. Sizzler, because we’re fancy like that.

We did a shitload of sight-seeing. I went to an awesome hula show. I went to the mall and rode a tram (because the mall is THAT BIG). We shopped at the flea market, and ate shave ice. I bought a coconut bra. I was having so much fun, I didn’t want to go home.

Then, I missed my flight. I came back to my room, and made a few phone calls.

And then I missed my flight again.

After I finished cussing because dammit I need to get back to California asshole, I have a job and SHIT TO DO there I can’t keep missing my flight because you can’t get me to the fucking airport on time, he asked me to marry him.


18 years ago this afternoon, I stood on Waimea Beach and married the boy I have been in love with since I was 16 years old. I love you from the boy who used to get into fist fights (before/during) after school to the man who fought wars.

Happy Anniversary, baby.

***FLASHBACK***

In honor of having to give up my tickets for Coldplay because you can't SIT on the FLOOR, only stand, I bring to you ::ahem:: using my Radio Announcer voice with the echo

A BLAST FROM THE PAST -- Six Months Ago, This Day

(Actually six months and ONE day ago...but you get the picture)

I am a ridiculously active concert goer. You may say you like the occasional concert, or even say that you are a DIE HARD fan. I think that I PROBABLY (not a guarantee, but most likely) can top it. In fact, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that I've risked my job trying to get tickets to something that I wanted to attend.

But I digress. Six months (and one day) ago, on a Monday morning, I did the unthinkable. I went to a concert. And when I say I went in the morning. I mean: Me & a friend stood in a line at a quarter to 5:00 AM, waiting for entrance to a club to see a band. It was more a "mini-concert" really...but you get the point. It was from 6AM to 12NOON. Originally, I thought that I would go on to work after that, since 1. It was so early and 2. it was literally, blocks from my place of employment. That all changed when I found out there was going to be an open bar.

Really? An open bar at 6AM? YES. My poison? Long Island Ice Tea.

So I'm one of the first 15 people in the club. Our post: Stage right in front. So close, that I put my drink down behind the speaker. SO CLOSE that I could have touched the drummer (which I did...boy, is The Man lucky I love him so). The club is tiny, there can't be more than 100 people in this place. It's so small that I can actually go get our drinks, and then come back to where I was standing. So small, that I walked in on the violinist throwing up in the bathroom. Hung over from the night before partying with the boys, she says. Well. Okay then.

The band rocked my face off. I had never been THAT close. EVER. And when it comes to THIS band, I am somewhat of a groupie. I can't even lie. I drank and sang and danced around...and drank. And by noon, I was drunk off my ass. I called my job and told them, sorry, no way am I coming in to work, see y'all tomorrow. When it ended, they took pictures, signed autographs and hugged fans. Damn my friend for being scared to bring her camera! But thank God for camera phones! The one picture that I DID get:

The Setlist.

I got the band to sign my tee, got a hug, and free tickets to see them again in a few months. I went home and passed out until the next day. Then back to work like regular folks.