When I was invited to join my husband for his business trip to Hawaii, I got busy planning.

We could visit some of our favorite West Coast people, pay our respects at the Pearl Harbor Memorial, explore the natural beauty of the island, and go find us some wild dolphins to play with. While all of these plans were lovely, it was the bucket list wild dolphin swim that made my heart beat faster.

Truth be told, I had visions of dolphins swimming in a circle around me in warm Caribbean water.

Maybe popping in for a little nudge or kiss on the cheek. So when I read the fine print regulations requiring humans to keep their distance from marine life, my fantasy deflated a tiny bit. Yet, my heart swelled with the wisdom of allowing dolphins their space.

I’ve learned second hand through my Marine Scientist offspring how close human interactions and boats don’t bode well for marine mammals.

So, I was cool with the distance rule. Trusting every whale, dolphin, turtle, and surprise marine guest would find their way to our mutual encounter. Arriving in Oahu, I heard snippets of news about the huge waves on the North Shore that were disrupting the international surfing competition. While fascinating, it had nothing to do with me given that I’d never go near a big wave, let alone balance on a surfboard.

My healthy respect (fear) of this vast ocean jazzed my nervous system just watching tv coverage of tiny humans standing on tiny boards on tremendously huge mountains of water.

Breathing deeply, I remembered that I booked us a sweet frolic with the dolphins on the East side of the island, far from the wild North. However, I forgot Oahu was an island, not a large continent. Turns out high winds and waves in one area actually impact other areas. Weather. Go figure. Given my propensity for sea sickness, I prepared well with my pre-adventure dose of Bonine and a night of dreaming about mild waves and dolphin kisses.

That dream crashed when the captain called to cancel our journey due to, get this, high waves.

If the boat couldn’t safely make it out of the harbor and the waves were too high for snorkeling, the trip was cancelled. Okay, bummer, but safety first. Especially ‘cause I’m not a water baby and rough seas are not my jam. Problem was I couldn’t reschedule because other Bonine laced tourists were gonna swim with my dolphins. Flexibly shifting plans, I booked another naturalist tour on our last full day.

Trusting we’d have time for some splashing in the dolphin pool before returning to see Hamilton in Honolulu.

Racing toward the open sea offered a new perspective of beautiful mountains, undeveloped valleys, beaches and cliffs. This was the magnificent Hawaii I had longed for and it was thrilling to witness. My Bonine filled system protected me from feeling sea sick, so I felt free, alive, and enthusiastic. I called out to the dolphins with my grateful heart, letting them know that Kathy Milano and a few friends had come to play.

And here came the pod of spotted dolphins, joyfully answering that call.

Mothers and calves, singles and couples, they swam with us through this vast fluid playground. I’d like to say we were surrounded by 50 dolphins, but I know things get exaggerated in the wonder of the moment. So, most likely, there were 45. No shit. The largest pod I’ve ever had the privilege of zooming around with.

They weren’t paying attention to that 50 yard distance rule and I wasn’t complaining.

Our tiny group of tourists and marine biologist guides were one big body of delight. Even that really sea sick dude who was wearing my acupressure bands was grinning like a maniac.

It seemed like forever that we all played, marveled, and witnessed a few hot shot leaping dolphins.

The captain stopped the boat, and in silent wonder, we surveyed the pod who stayed with us. It was a moving adventure. There was nothing on my mind and plenty of gratitude in my body.

The biologist had an announcement.