I walked out of the Sheraton Waikiki half-drunk, the warm air heavy with the smell of sea and flowers and grilled food.
Kalakaua Avenue was jammed with thousands of Japanese tourists, most of them a full head shorter than I.
I drifted against the crowd as the sky above us turned a sudden purple, vivid and brief, giving over to the neon wash from the Avenue’s colored lights.
A row of gleaming classic cars stood beneath the towering bronze statue of Duke Kahanamoku, his neck draped with leis of fresh flowers.
I closed my eyes, my heart filling with possibility.