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Downtown Kailua is small and quaint; it's just the type of Hawaiian town you'd like to get lost in and disappear for a while. At night, people walk, jog, and hang out at tables that line the sidewalks of the strip malls. Shop doors are open wide and open late. So after hunting down our first dinner of the vacation, George and I joined the others, drifing idly along the sidewalk in search of coffee.  Curiously I peered in each shop window to see what was inside: Swimming apparel. Vietnamese soup. Cheese steak. Hurley. "Hey George," I laughed, "Look, it's that fat guy from Lost." No really.

I couldn't go and talk to him, though. How corny, all I could think of to say would be to ask him if he was Lost.

Like he hasn't heard that before...