After a 13-hour day of traveling, I made it to Honolulu.
I left home at 4AM, having been given a ride to the airport by the ever-generous Scott, who volunteered to wake up early and drive me to Baltimore Washington International Airport, which is so far away from DC it might as well be an international destination. Travel was uneventful-- so much so that it was eerie. Flights left on time, landed early, and gave me just enough time to walk to the next gate and take my seat on the subsequent plane.
As far as Interstates go, H3 is the most memorable I've seen so far. It follows its way up a lush, verdant valley until it reaches the eastern range of Oahu, point at which it juts into a tunnel with an entryway worthy of a 1960s science fiction movie. The other side of the interstate hangs onto the side of the range that separates the windward side of the island from the rest of Oahu and gives it a completely different climate. It ends in and area of the island called Kailua. Dylan describes it as a commuter suburb, but it is unlike any suburb I've ever seen.