It was punk fifteen in the morning

Actually, it's 6:49 in the morning on a Sunday, and we are preparing to leave for the airport. At least I am prepared to leave and waiting for a certain always-dawdling someone else to be prepared. I feel like I've been hit by a train (a slow-moving one that dragged me for miles before allowing me to roll into a nearby ditch). The goal today: Hawaii. First? Get ourselves to airport and then to Portland. More from the road...