I’m alive and back in Kansas. I remembered I had my camera often enough to snap a few pictures, but until I get around to getting those off of my camera, these stories will have to suffice. And oh, do I have some stories. (There’s one that’s so incriminating that I can’t post it here. E-mail me if you want that one.) A lot of this has to do with the EGG.

Most of my dad’s side of the family lives over on the Big Island, and the ones that didn’t live there made the trek out there for this occasion, so this was like a mini-reunion for the Gregory family. It’s when we all get together that the EGG (Evil Gregory Gene) comes into play. The EGG is a lot of things. It’s the genetic equivalent of a black cat or broken mirror. It’s also the common cause of all of our mischief. The last time we all got together, we started throwing lit fireworks at each other and eventually accidentally threw a lit string of firecrackers into the trunk of a car where it landed between some bottle rockets and a can of gasoline. This is our way.

The trip started innocently enough. We spent the first few days with my dad’s mom, Barbara, who is a truly remarkable woman, and my aunt Kathy, who isn’t a Gregory, but knows the EGG quite well (and is also a great person). We spent this time catching up with the family and the town, as well as relaxing and enjoying some of the local cuisine.

The trouble started on Tuesday, when my dad showed up. (Mind you, it isn’t actually is fault. That’s just when the EGG starts acting up.) We went snorkeling at Honaunau. I forgot about underwater pressure and dove down without re-adjusting my ears on the way down, which puts some major pressure on the ears. So I spent the rest of the trip with pressurized ears.

Tuesday night, we got the whole clan together for a luau, which actually went off without a hitch. I may tell some of the individual stories I heard there, because there are some good ones that re-affirmed my belief in the EGG. That night, I went back with my dad to stay at his dad’s house up in the mountains.

Wednesday, we decided to explore an ancient Hawaiian burial cave. You won’t find this in any of the brochures—it’s really not tourist-friendly. It’s not marked anywhere, and you have to bring a ladder just to get in there. Truth be told, we weren’t actually supposed to be down there. Aside from a stray soda can or two, there is literally nothing down there that would link that cave to our civilization. We ended up finding some bones at the end of the cave (human bones) before making our trek back. Apparently, I did something to piss off the local gods, because I ended up falling down and twisting or tearing something in my knee. Now, a week later, I’m still limping and taking the elevators over the stairs.

Thursday, I woke up with a sore throat. The rest of my group went diving, but I couldn’t kick with my knee, so Janelle and I settled for limping around downtown Kailua Kona. As the day progressed, my throat closed up and the migraines started. By the time evening rolled around, I was in a haze and had trouble swallowing things. Not good. I got to have dinner with my grandfather, Jim, and his wife, Joyce, who are also great people.

Friday actually went off without a hitch, aside from my limping and wheezing and ear pressure.

Saturday, we went to hang out at the Hilton, which is essentially its own town. I was feeling a little better, so I got in the water and swam for somewhere around a quarter of a mile. It’s like whenever I work out and I haven’t worked out in a while, so I try to work out extra hard to make up for it, and then I can’t work out for a week. Except I got sick again afterwards.

Saturday night, we had dinner with my cousin, Chad, and his five-year-old daughter, India, who is training to be a cage fighter. She delivered the cutest beating I have ever received.

After the beatings had subsided, she pulled out a ukelele and sang us a song. Now, when a five-year-old pulls out a tiny guitar and offers to sing you a song, there’s a certain expectation you have of that song. It’s going to be about gumdrops or rainbows or playing outside. Well, here are the lyrics, to the best of my memory:

Come back
Please come back
So sad here without you
Never knew it could be so un-fun
Come back
Since you left
Never knew it could be so sad
So sad without you
Come back
Please come back

So that, over the steady drone of an E minor 11. I don’t know exactly what she was singing about, but she smiled quite proudly at the end, so we all gave her a round of applause.

Sunday night, we got on a plane in Kona and flew through the night straight to Chicago, where we hopped on a plane back to Kansas City and arrived at 9:30 in the morning, and, son of a bitch, I can’t sleep on airplanes. I didn’t sleep a wink. So I got home, took a shower, brushed my teeth, and headed straight off to work (seriously) and started dealing with the emergencies that had been mounting during the past week.

This all makes it sound like I had a terrible vacation. It was actually a great vacation—very refreshing, and very satisfying for my sense of nostalgia. Also, I got another fishhook necklace carved out of bone (can never have enough of those). I’ll try to get some more details from the trip up here soon. Aloha!

This entry was posted on Wednesday, February 4th, 2009 at 10:42 pm and is filed under Life in General. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.