We woke up ridiculously early for being on vacation. 4:30 A.M. We had an objective: get to the Maui Tropical Plantation in Wailuku for our ziplining extravaganza. We got up, ate breakfast with the 'rents, and laughed a lot. "Theres no time!" my dad said forcefully to my mother. I think here is where the fateful domino of events began. While my mother finished breakfast, Sarah and I and my father, pushing Mom's walker, went down to the car. As we went out some twisty thing broke off and my dad had to look for it. Already flustered, because that's how dad gets when there's a deadline for getting somewhere, he finally got to the car, unlocked the trunk with his sole set of car keys, tossed them in the trunk for safekeeping, arranged the walker in there, and slammed down the lid. Looking at the unlocked car, the closed trunk, and feeling around in his pockets, all his pockets for the sole set of car keys, and with Sarah and I standing in complete silence, Dad began to swear.
Over an hour and a half and much cursing later, we were driving to the 'Iao Valley, where a huge and costly in respect to human life battle took place. We had succeeded by phone in rearranging our zipline tour for Thursday and had changed our Thursday trail ride for the next day. So we were feeling pretty good and ready for a hike. (None of that series of phone calls ended up mattering really because we got another one Wednesday night informing us that the winds would be 50 mph the next morning and ziplines are only allowed to run on 30 or under and all remaining tours were booked and we would be receiving a full refund. Disappointing, yeah. "You're gonna write a sad poem in your journal and move on.")
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