Hawaii

The first we heard from Brownie was a raging call from Charles de Gaulle.  “Air F*CKING France what a shower of f*cking c*cksucking b*stards,” she reported.  There had been delays, and instead of being over the Atlantic she was still awaiting her connection out to San Francisco.  

Then there was more swearing, followed by cry of, “F*CK!  I think they’re calling my name in their stupid f*cking accent!”  Then she was gone again.  Obviously she was having another trauma crisis fiasco situation drama.  Caro and I decided that she needed a bit of pampering and so arranged to pick her up from Honolulu airport in style.  This is why she was greeted by a stretch limo after having travelled for over 20 hours.  Still, she bounded back awfully well and Caro and Lisa stayed up until 2am gossiping away.

I forgot to mention that we had checked out of our lovely Ilima Hotel into the Reef Towers by this time.  This is because the Ilima was a spur of the moment thing, whereas the Reef Towers had been booked weeks in advance.  However - it was SHIT.  

Or maybe it just felt like it because it was more money and we had just been so spoilt paying a lot less for a lot more at the Ilima.  So the next morning we checked out of there and turned up looking sheepish The Ilima again, much as we had before, only with an Extra Kiwi.  

Jay laughed at us, and put us in a huge room with separate bedrooms.  "That still doesn't mean you can shag," warned Lisa.  "I'll be checking for wet spots."