My First Flight: Visiting My Sister in Hawaii

In April 2025, I did something I had never done before: I got on a plane. For years, I thought about traveling, but the idea of flying always felt intimidating. Between the logistics, the unknowns, a few nerves about comfort, and the cost, I had managed to put it off. This past spring, I decided to make my 25th birthday extra special by visiting my sister in Hawaii for the first time. My parents went to see her over Christmas last year, and I was the only family member who hadn’t gone out yet. It was two weeks of many firsts for me.

Taking the Leap

Since it was my first flight, I wanted the experience to be as stress-free as possible. I decided to fly Delta First Class, which turned out to be one of the best decisions I could have made. As a larger person, comfort was a top priority. I wanted space to breathe, relax, and actually enjoy the experience instead of worrying about fitting into a narrow seat. By the end of the trip, I had been through Detroit, Seattle, LosAngeles, and Minnesota airports due to layovers.

Delta Air Lines is one of the few airlines still putting screens in the back of seats, and I was extremely grateful for that. I didn’t need to juggle any of my own devices or prop up my phone because the built-in screen offered a full library of movies, shows, and live TV. Plus, Delta now offers free Wi-Fi on most flights, making it easy to message my sister and share the excitement while I was still in the air.

From the moment I stepped onboard, I could feel the difference. The wide seats, friendly crew, and surprisingly good meals made the hours pass easily. Watching the world shrink beneath me as we took off was surreal—equal parts exhilarating and peaceful, like stepping into a new chapter of my life.

A Camera and a New Perspective

I knew I wanted to take my Nikon D3500, so I decided to pack it safely in my checked luggage this time. I know that’s something most photographers avoid, but I made sure it was secure. I packed my camera inside my padded camera bag and then placed that bag inside my suitcase for an extra layer of protection. I didn’t want to deal with carrying it around in my carry-on, and thankfully, it arrived in perfect condition.

My camera became my constant companion during the two weeks I spent in Hawaii. The islands are every bit as beautiful as people say they are—maybe even more. The colors are so vivid they almost hum. The greens are greener, the blues are deeper, and the light, especially at sunrise and sunset, feels alive. I spent my days exploring beaches, wandering through lush trails, and capturing moments that words can’t quite do justice.

Reconnecting

My sister’s husband is in the military, and they’ve been stationed in Hawaii for over four years now. I hadn’t seen her since they came back for Christmas two years ago, so this trip meant more than just a vacation—it was a reunion. Seeing her in her new home (new to me), surrounded by palm trees and the ocean breeze, felt surreal at first. Before long, it was like no time had passed at all. We spent my 25th birthday doing karaoke and eating sushi. The best way to spend a birthday, in my opinion.

We spent our mornings drinking coffee on her balcony, laughing about old memories, and catching up on everything we had missed. Evenings were for drives along the coast, watching sunsets on the beach, dinners out, and quiet moments that reminded me how strong the bond between siblings really is, distance or not. I also deeply missed her two dogs, Pita and Potato. Potato had been diagnosed with stage three cancer, and earlier that year, we were concerned that she might not make it. The diagnosis was another reason I decided to go when I did.

Beauty, Reality, and History

Hawaii’s beauty is unlike anywhere else I’ve ever been, but truthfully, I haven’t been many places at all. Towering palms, volcanic mountains, turquoise waters stretching endlessly toward the horizon. True paradise. With most beautiful things, there’s a tradeoff. Beneath that beauty is a complex social and historical reality.

One thing I noticed during my visit was how visible the homelessness crisis is, especially among Native Hawaiians. For decades, the influx of wealthier outsiders and tourism-driven development has pushed many Native Hawaiians out of their traditional lands and neighborhoods. Rising rents, gentrification, and property speculation have made it difficult for local families to stay, while the islands’ stunning views and beaches become inaccessible to many residents.

This displacement has created tension. Some locals express frustration or even hostility toward the influx of wealthier, often white newcomers, seeing them as contributors to the loss of their communities and cultural heritage. At the same time, visitors and outsiders can feel unwelcome or judged, even if they are unaware of these historic dynamics. It’s a delicate and sometimes painful intersection of privilege, history, and economics, one that cannot be ignored when visiting Hawaii.

While I was captivated by the islands’ natural beauty, I couldn’t help but reflect on these deeper issues. The experience reminded me that paradise has many layers, and being mindful as a visitor means recognizing the struggles of the people who call it home.

Unexpected Encounters

The small Indian mongoose has an interesting and complicated history in Hawaii. It was originally brought to the islands by the sugar industry in 1883 to help control rat populations, but the plan quickly backfired. Mongooses are active during the day, while rats are nocturnal. Instead of reducing rat numbers, the mongooses began preying on native wildlife, especially ground-nesting birds such as the endangered nēnē (Hawaiian goose), and on sea turtle eggs.

Despite their ecological impact, encountering one in the wild still feels like spotting something rare. One afternoon at the beach, we came across a small family of mongooses darting between the rocks. There were several adults and a handful of tiny babies playfully chasing each other in the sand. I had heard that seeing wild mongoose families—especially with newborns—was uncommon, so I felt incredibly lucky to witness it.

I quickly grabbed my camera and captured a few photos before they disappeared into the brush. Watching the babies tumble around in the sunshine was a reminder of how unpredictable nature can be: beautiful, wild, and sometimes controversial all at once.

Coming Home

By the end of the trip, I felt something I hadn’t expected: confidence. The flight home didn’t feel intimidating at all—it felt like an accomplishment. A quiet reminder that I can do hard things and enjoy them along the way.

Now, when I look at the photos from that trip, I see more than just palm trees and ocean waves. I see family, growth, and the start of something new.