Not always heavenly for rookies in Paradise
Because we couldn’t wait even one more year for the more traditional milestone, Marge and I went to Hawaii for our 24th wedding anniversary.
After all, everybody else has already been there. At least that seemed to be the case when we announced our travel plans.
Lance and Laurie Haslund, Burien’s peerless patrons of the arts, sat us down and wrote out a must-see list.
Highline Times proofreader Connie Case added her recommendations.
And Marge’s boss, who grew up in the Hawaiian Islands, generously assembled a suggested itinerary.
Armed with all this expert advice we flew off to Oahu, ending up at the Hilton Hawaiian Village on Waikiki.
The Hilton is more like a small city than a village—22 acres, 3,386 rooms, six pools, a dozen restaurants and 90 shops. I bet some jaded tourists never leave the village.
The first thing we noticed was that we must have missed the big news while in the air for six hours. Apparently, Japan had suffered another terrible earthquake and the entire population had been evacuated to Oahu.