wings with ranch

**Disclaimer: If you’re joining after reading my last post: I know the bleeding chicken story probably isn’t the most pleasant to read especially if you were expecting to hear about our trip to Kauai and how beautiful it is, etc. etc. Sorry. It is beautiful and it is etc. etc. – but, you know, how can I not tell that story?

This isn't THE chicken. It is one of the 1000s of chickens that we encountered though.

This isn’t THE chicken. It is one of the hundreds of chickens that we encountered, though. Kauai is full of wild chickens and roosters.

Anyway – after the chicken incident on day two, we decided we needed to take it easy for the rest of the morning – recover from the jet lag and from the trauma of seeing death by dog. We headed to the gargantuan pool and slathered ourselves in sunscreen. (A first for me – I usually don’t wear it, but now that I’m 27 I feel like I should worry about skin cancer or aging or generally be more responsible.)

I’d grabbed handfuls of brochures at the airport about all of the adventures available on the island (I was supposed to be watching the bags so Pat could go to the bathroom but I got distracted, as usual) and so I spent the morning trying to decide on which ones we’d undertake. Pat and I decided on a zip-line tour (which I’d begged Pat to do with me and he obliged – sweet husband), a helicopter tour where we got the “first class” seats beside the pilot (last hurrah, remember?), a sunset dinner cruise along the Na Pali Coast, and a kayaking/hiking/swimming in a waterfall combo adventure.  Spare no expense! We were in Hawaii!

That afternoon, we decided to drive to the south shore of the island near Poipu. We had a bangin’ car; and by bangin’, I mean no questions asked, straight up… tacky.  If you ever saw any of the Fast and Furious movies (there have to be at least 56 now), you are well set up to imagine our rental car. It was a blue Ford mustang convertible with leather interior and neon green interior lights. These weren’t just any old neon green lights; they spelled out “MUSTANG” in big block letters along all the floorboards and lit up our feet as we drove around at night.  It was polished to a glaringly bright shine. I hate anything bright or showy (which doesn’t even accurately describe just how showy this car was) – but the rental agent was so excited to assign me the car, I couldn’t help but smile politely and thank her.

Pat made me stand by the car for this photo. My level of coolness clearly doesn't match the car's.

Pat made me stand by the car for this photo. My level of coolness clearly doesn’t match the car’s.

After parking along the side of Poipu Road, , we walked to the beach, weaving our way through the impeccably groomed gardens of a condo complex. The beach was sunny and HOT. There was no wind and we were both dripping in sweat after a few minutes on the beach. Into the water we went. The water is clear and turquoise like you see in the postcards.

The water at Poipu Beach. See - it is really that pretty.

The water at Poipu Beach. See – it is really that pretty.

After a few hours of cycling between laying on the beach, reading, sweating, swimming, drying off, and sunscreening, we decided to head back to the resort for dinner and Mai Tais.

I’ve never had a Mai Tai before (or many rum drinks for that matter), but I’m telling you, these were some de-licious tropical drinks. My favorite part was the pineapple wedge and cherry in each drink. I’d eat them first (and then eat Pat’s because he doesn’t eat fruit – I know, I  know, it’s crazy) and then gulp down every sweet syrupy drop.

**By the way, I can’t not tell you that Pat told my younger brother, Turner, he didn’t eat fruit because he was hit by a runaway fruit stand when he was young and Turner believed this for the next 4 years. We found him last summer telling a group of friends that the reason that Pat doesn’t eat fruit is because of this whole fruit cart incident. Oh yeah, and Turner is 20. Go figure. We Bowmans are a gullible bunch.

Pat's Longboard on the left. My Mai Tai on the right. Mine is better.

Pat’s Longboard on the left. My Mai Tai on the right. Mine is better.

After the sweetness of the Mai Tais, we decided we needed some real food. At Duke’s Canoe Club (the most happening place on Kalapaki Beach according to my trusty Lonely Planet guidebook), I had a Caesar salad that was way too anchovy tasting for my taste and Pat had Korean BBQ tacos. The best part of the night (rivaling the drinks) was the wings we split.

This was my first experience with eating hot wings with ranch dressing. I can’t believe I haven’t tried it until now. I once ate 26 wings in middle school in a wing-eating contest with my friend Biby and I’ve loved wings my whole life and I just now discovered that they are even more delicious with ranch. Not the fat free ranch though. Yick. We got the wings every night we ate at Duke’s and I used more and more ranch each time. Ranch dressing + hot wings = Ramsey is in food heaven. I know it’s not fine dining and the foodie side of me is a bit ashamed, but I’m just saying (one of my sister’s favorite expressions), those wings were good.

After all the sun, wings, Mai Tais, and ranch dressing, our full stomachs and sun-weary bodies gave us no choice but to call it a night. You know you’ve been there. Needless to say, we fell asleep as soon as we got back to the room and didn’t wake up until our alarm went off at 6:00am the next morning for our 6:45am check-in time for the zip-line tour. Don’t ask me how they came up with the time. I’m just saying, that’s what they told us and we obeyed. More to come on that. Stay tuned.

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