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Sitting in the club lounge in HNL, waiting for a flight that is still hours away. The last day in Hawaii is always hard, not least because your flight never leaves until late evening, but your hotel boots you out in the early afternoon. And the thought of leaving is always so depressing that all you can do is get to the airport and get settled quickly enough that you can begin to forget you were ever in paradise at all.

We get to LAX at something like 5 am, after which we get to retrieve luggage and vehicle and make the trek eastward into the desert. And after that, we fully plan on collapsing for most of the morning.

And then begins the last mad week of summer, in which we try both to enjoy our last bits of freedom and prepare for the onslaught ahead. This is the point every summer when I suddenly wake up thinking, wasn’t it just May a week or so ago?



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