Maui, HI  April 2003

E tickets?                                              (Maui AGAIN... )  

  When I read the e-mail, It took a minute for the  hazy recollection to come.  At the time the idea, had been vague and ill formed at best.  "Mountain bikes.  Hiking.  The Haliakala crater!   What?"  I'd been duped by a gravid, dirty martini fueled night.  Idiot.  What was I thinking! 

shucking OFF LA

    I had done the resort and condo thing on Maui.  Although I could see it’s potential, as far as I was concerned, the tourist industry had ruined the island.   I already knew how it would go.  So, going back  was way down on my list of priorities.    Maui was the kind  of place I’d go, I thought,  when RV’s start looking like an attractive alternative to camping.  The place, I deemed, was at best mildly amusing (in sort of vapid and self-indulgent way).  I’d much rather hit Fiji or Alaska or even Utah again.    After all, the last place I wanted to be, was struck on a tourist trap.  I’d seen all the kooks I cared to,   I had already been on the butt end of a hoard of corn fed tourists tromping up to the Io needle.  I had enough of the schools of snorkel bedecked kids, chasing  freaked out turtles.  I was over it.   It just wasn’t what I was down for.  No, other than hanging out, the island held little allure.  But as far as that goes, I figured I could hang out anywhere --- even Maui.  

It Ought to be a Movie

   On the plane,  I already knew that my chance of camping on a beach in Hawaii was as remote as the Congo.  Who was I kidding I thought. After all, I was rolling with Monk and the Bulgarian mobster.  They were two of my oldest road dogs.  Case in point, I’ve been to bars in VEGAS with Monk (AKA the Pope of Los Feliz) where he’s known by name (and from where I later saw him bounced after an ill timed and unfortunate biting incident).   And Julian, let’s just say he knows the ladies at Crazy Girls better than I do.  So, considering all of that, and the fact that my boys had then just stumbled onto the plane (at the last possible second), and  looked like they just rolled out of an after hours club, and were trying scam first class seats (from a very dubious looking stewardess); I thought, yeah, probably could have done without the tent.  Instead,  I recalled Berlin, and how Monk and I had talked our bartender into staying open and giving us free drinks.  I remembered how by the next day, Monk’s girl felt compelled to urge us not to walk together because we were scaring people!  With some trepidation then, I envisioned “And The Sun Also Rises” meets “Reservoir Dogs,” meets “Blue Hawaii."

^{It's me, Orson,} _{Jus Chillin Yo}