Before I begin, let me say that this is one of those stories where I come out looking pretty good.

It was early in the morning on Friday, February the 13th, and I had just gotten back from one of my legendary 10 mile runs, defying most conventional laws of physics it was all uphill. I was standing at the foot of the bed glistening in a light sweat when the magnificent Sara Erikson awoke. I said to her "I have a surprise for you today". She said "just seeing your ripped body like a mythical Greek God come to life is surprise enough, don't tell me there's more..."

I whisked her to a spa in Beverly Hills, a place I had counted on in the past for all my body waxing needs. I had arranged a Manicure/Pedicure procedure for her while I went to a power meeting with some of Hollywood's most notable "A" listers. After finally tearing myself away from a very chatty George Clooney, I picked Sara up from the spa and began driving to the airport. When we parked she said "Are we flying commercial?" I replied "I promised you a day of surprises!"

We pushed our way through the media circus that we have become accustomed to when traveling out of LAX and proceeded to check in. It was at the check in counter where Sara learned that we were going on a trip to Maui. At that moment every conceivable emotion crossed Sara's face. She threw herself into my arm's and passionately thanked me in the French way. Flashbulbs were everywhere; the Paparazzi were having a hay day. We didn't care we just continued to give them the show they were hungry for.

We proceeded towards the security screening area. We placed our shoulder bags on the screening belt. I knew this could be trouble as the engagement ring was in my bag. As the bag went through, the eyes on the security guard at the monitor grew wide like saucers. He scanned it once, twice, three times and then once again. As though he had seen a ghost, he approached me and in a very covert manner asked "Is that rock real?" I replied "Does the Pope pee standing up?" There was a long confused silence. Neither of us was sure what the other meant. I obliged him with a quick autograph, for which he was overwhelmed with gratitude and Sara and I were off to our gate.

Whenever I fly, I'm always filled with bittersweet emotion. I am reminded of my days in the service. The many reconnaissance missions. Hanging out in the fly-boy club on the base with the other pilots. Finding your true grit over a gentlemen's game of charades. Those were good times. Perilous times, but good ones.

Caught up in the swell of nostalgia I didn't realize that we had been parked at the gate in Maui for over an hour. Representatives from North West Airlines helped escort me from the plane, and more importantly from my memories.

We were in Maui. The Valley Island. Population 143,574. Median household income $60,435.

I had rented a convertible Seabring, and I couldn't wait to drop the top and rip it up the coast. Driving for me has always been sport, and when the playing field is a winding island highway lit by nothing but the moon and my high-beams then let the games begin.

Hairpin turn after hairpin turn, Sara gripping my bicep for safety and this was just getting out of the rental lot. My foot was lead and the needle was buried. If that car was a horse you could say we rode her hard and brought her back to the barn wet. We arrived at the hotel tires smoking. Strangely when we got out of the convertible our hair was still perfectly in place. There's just something special about that island wind that agrees with good hair.

We checked in and went to our suite. It was indescribable. The term Palatial still felt somehow understated. The 30 ft ceilings, the marble columns, the herringbone teak floors with gold inlay from the Edwardian period. These Hawaiians had done there homework. All said and done there were 17 rooms in the suite. A formal dining chamber, Billiards room, Library, ladies salon, gentlemen's parlour, Grecian bath, a Baby Gap. There had been nothing left to chance.

It was time! After searching for Sara in the expansive suite for 15 minutes I finally arrived to find her feeding a baby dolphin in the porpoise sanctuary just off the Master suite. I asked her if she would join me for a walk. She obliged.

My heart was pounding. It was time. We stopped by a an outdoor tiki bar on the property. A little liquid courage I thought, just like back in my Rodeo days. Sara had a glass of bourbon and I threw back a stiff double pour of Chablis. It went straight to my head, good wine always does.

We continued our walk. Sara was chilled she wanted to go back to the warm shelter of the porpoise sanctuary, but I urged her to walk just a little further. It was time.

We walked to a small clearing down by the beaches edge. This was the place. This was the time. Sara looked Hollywood gorgeous. Naturally, she's Sara Erikson. I grabbed her firmly by the waist and dropped a hot kiss square on her mouth "That is the last time I will kiss you as your boyfriend..." I said as got down on one knee. Sara responded "What are you doing!?! What are you doing!?!" For a split second I thought "this could end very poorly". Never the less, the Chablis coursing through my veins I forged on. I pulled the ring out looking deep in Sara's eyes and said "Mooka Nika La'aki mooka aki la hanni liika." Sara replied "What are you doing!?! What are you doing!?!" I repeated once more, only this time in English "WILL YOU MARRY ME?". Caught up in emotion Sara joined me on her knee and with a passionate tear soaked kiss she replied "La annai o'ihoe laay". Translation "I think so"

Just like riding a bucking bronco in front of 20 thousand screaming fans, it only lasts 8 seconds, and the next day it will be difficult to sit, but it's a wild ride you will NEVER forget.