It's evening, and I'm with a number of people in a hotel, each of us packing our bags to return home from Hawaii. My college girlfriend Lori B is there; I think I'm married to her. Misha is also there; she seems nice.

But I'm sort of angry because we didn't go to the beach. "We've been here for like a week," I'm saying, "and we didn't go to the beach or go snorkeling even once!". It seems that we got involved in some special projects, surely interesting at the time, but took up more of our vacation than expected.

It's dark now, so I can't go snorkeling (when I was in Hawaii in real life, I went snorkeling in the dark, and the needlefish made it quite scary). It seems at first that it's just too late, we're leaving now. But I ask somebody when we actually have to depart for the airport, and they say shortly after 10pm. I remark that it is a strange time to be departing, I guess we'll be sleeping on the plane. But we have about three hours and my stuff is basically packed, so dammit, I'm going to the beach and going for a swim, even if it is dark. We're just a couple blocks from the coastline, though I'm not sure if there is a beach there, or a seawall or something.