Have you ever been on a vacation that no matter how many years pass you still recall it in detail? Mabey as a little girl or boy, your parents took you to Disney Land, and you never forgot the feeling of the wind whipping around you as you sped down the Space Mountain track in complete darkness. Then again, perhaps you preferred that vacation spent learning about the nation in Washington D.C. Regaurdless, I have one of those vacations. Even ten years after my Hawaiian vacation, I still remember the exotic bird show, the submarine ride, and the luau.

A few days after our arrival in Hawaii, my family and I stumbled upon a flyer for a show about birds. Because it was rather cheap, we decided to attend it. Sitting on my dad's shoulders, I felt the anticipation coursing through my veins. The feeling of excitement in the air seemed almost tangible. Mouth wateringly, the aromas of cotten candy, popcorn, and the ever-present pinapple scent mingled in the air. As I studied my fellow crowd members, a voice boomed over an intercom, startling me from my revierie. The show was starting! From seemingly nowhere, music began to play. It was irratating and abrasive as though the artist had a trumpet fetish. However, I ignored it and focused on the stage. Dozens of steel cages sat stacked upon eachother, each containing a variety of birds. Next, a lithe man stepped on the stage, and he pulled a gorgeous yellow parrot from one of the cages. Eyes wide, I gawked, awestruck, as he explained a few facts about the bird he held. After he put the parrot back, he removed a different type of bird, a blue, spotted parakeet. The rest of the show followed those lines. Once the show ended, he actually let my brother and I hold several of the birds. Nevervous, I wobbled as a green parakeet perched on my head. His tallons dug into my scalp, not painfully, but enough to let me know he was there. Thankfully, he didn't poop in my hair. Exhausted from our day's adventure, my family returned to my cousin Charlottes house, where we stayed while visiting the island.

The morning after the bird show, my mother woke me up early and told me to get ready. Jumping out of bed, I realized that we were going to ride a submarine. After a short drive to the port, I found myself boarding a bulking navy blue submarine. Upon entering, a shiver scurried down my spine. The interior felt dark, damp, and dank. Because of my young age, I was scared and clung to my mother's arm. She led me to a long row of seats, most of them wet, that sat infront of large oval-shaped windows. To me, the small cabin smelled like fish, and I wrinkled my nose. I almost yelped when the submarine began descending into the dark waters of the ocean. As I shook, I worried that the sub wouldn't be able to go back up. However, I forgot my fear as a school of fish floated by the window. The fish, coming in every shape and size, looked beautifully exotic. When a grand old sea turtle lethargically paddled by, I squeaked in suprise. Minutes later, my eyes widened to the size of saucers as I beheld the most terrifying fish I had ever seen- a great white shark. My mother calmed me down by telling me that it couldn't hurt us. With renewed confidence, I studied the creature. It was actually quite majestic, but it also looked cold and cruel. After another hour of exploring the ocean's depths, the submarine resurfaced, and we exited the giant capsule. We talked about that adventure for the rest of the day as we prepared for the must have party of Hawaii- the luau.

As the sunset, we arrived at the beach , where the locals were hosting a island wide luau. An overly cheerful waiter with a receding hair line and chubby cheeks led us to our table towards the back of a roped off area. Although we sat far away, I could still see the stage from my chair. Grass lined the edges, and flowers dotted the back ground as two of Hawaii's native women taught children a traditional hula dance. Soon enough, the sun sank below the horizen, and the only sources of light came from the tiki torches and the stars. The hula dancers politely asked the children return to their seats because the show was about to begin. Suddenly, two double-sided torches blazed to life and revealed a man wearing a tiki mask. Twirling, whirling, and spining the torches, the man danced about the stage as a tribal drum beat thrummed. I felt the beat throbbing in my heart, adding to the experience. After the man finished his dance and gave a quick bow, another man, this one weighing most likely over 250 pounds, waddled up to a microphone and began singing a rendition of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." During his song, waiteresses, dressed in grass skirts and coconut halves, served us our appatizers, spinich salad and taro rolls. Because I didn't like any kinds of vegetables, I skipped out on the salad, but I decided to munch on a taro roll. The soft purple loaf tasted like a mouthful of starch and stuck to the roof of my mouth. Luckily, the waitresses soon returned with our main course- kalua pig. Juice dripped down my chin as I dug into the tender meat. Afterwords, we leaned back in our chairs and picked at sweat chunks of pinapple, apple-bananas, and mango. By the time we left, the torches had burned out and the moon flew high in the sky. That night we all slept soundly, memories from the day playing in our heads.

The bird show, submarine ride, and luau are forever imprinted in my memory. Everytime I recall the beautiful swoop of the parrots feathers, a smile graces my face. Also, the submarine ride with all of it's aquadic beauties makes me laugh when I rember how scared I felt at the time. Not the mention, the gorgeous luau we attended. The song that the obese man sang haunts my memory, playing over and over. Lastly, I know I'll never forget the food, or ever eat any as good as the roasted pig. I thank God for these memories because in the end memories are all we have, and I take joy in remembering them.

Well, there you have it! Tell me what you think :D Is it an A+

This is an expository I had to write for my comp . II class.