Jim Thompson, �Nothing More than Murder�
This is part thirteen of a 25-part story about Hawaii. The story begins here. Part five is located here. Part ten is here. Other parts you'll have to find yourself. So there.
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The catamaran makes its way along the island side, moving quickly. We stop at various points so people can snap pictures of thin waterfalls that are barely perceivable at our distance. I concentrate on some myna birds hanging out on the cliffs before us. One turns around and shits so hard that instead of simply dropping to the rocks below, it comes at us at an arc. The captain decides it�s time to leave.
We pull alongside another catamaran from a rival company. It�s obvious they�ve been there for a while, as most are beginning to re-board the vessel.
I�ve been in this spot before, and I know why they pick it. The coral is too far down for the average swimmer to reach and thus, they won�t cut themselves. But fish don�t just pick spots to hang out in like bored teenagers, they�re there to feed off the coral. This means they�re all too far below to really see much of anything that�s interesting.
In fact, as a snorkel spot, this place kinda sucks. It�s over-used by all these tourist vessels, and there really isn�t much around except some large, ugly, flat gray fish that are looking for handouts. I give The Girlfriend the lowdown: we�re to move away from the crowds and as far from the boat as we can get away with. Once we�ve distanced ourselves, we�ll keep our eyes sharp for turtles far below feeding on the coral.
Every time I�ve gone on this trip, I got lucky and ran into some turtles. Since we�ve totally missed out on dolphins, I�m hoping this will work out.
It doesn�t seem like it will. The most interesting thing I see is a pink snorkel that somebody lost. I dive underneath and swim in an attempt to retrieve it. I make it, but the water pressure feels like it�s just about to crush my head like an overripe grape. Even after reaching the surface, my head is throbbing.
But there�s barely anything else out here. On occasion we see a fish that has some color to it, but it�s usually too far down to get a good picture. I start snapping surreptitious pictures of The Girlfriend in her new swimsuit instead.
I notice, however, that she is taking pictures of something in the distance. I focus my eyes ahead of me to see what she�s looking at.
She�s found a lone turtle swimming. Hot damn.
It doesn�t stick around for long, however, and soon one of the crewmembers is telling us that it�s time to get back on the raft. This has to be the shortest time we�ve been allowed in the water out of all the times that I�ve made this journey. Why? Because of the scant few members who got in the water in the first place. If it were a full vessel, we probably would have stayed longer.
We�re the last ones to get on the boat. You board from the back of the catamaran, so you can see directly into the cabin area. Sitting in that area, perfectly dry, are the people who made us get a late start in the first place.
Nothing more than murder, indeed. Jim Thompson�s noir novels usually have one or two characters who are annoying, and they are usually the cause for perfect plans going sour.
I can relate.
But there�s still one more perk to the trip � FREE BEER! And it�s at this point where I finally figure out why despite the fact that these tour companies all travel the same area, they have radically different prices. Our beer list consists of Heineken, Coors Light, and Miller Genuine Draft. And that�s it. Other tours I went on had Mai Tai�s and other mixed drinks.
Heineken in a can. Whoopie. But it�s free Heineken in a can! We get our orders placed, and sit on top of the roof. In two minutes, we�re ordering another round.
And yet again, I learn the perks of going on a full boat. Since there�s so few of us, and we�re the only ones drinking with any kind of flourish, the crew member, after noting that I�ve had four beers in 30 minutes, tells me I need to slow it down.
�The hell I do,� I say. �Look, we�re not driving. We live right next to where your business is. I�m sure we can walk that far without disrupting anybody. Besides, the way I look at this is, this is the most expensive door charge for a keg party that I�ve ever been to.�
The crewmember shakes her head, but gets us another two beers.
The Girlfriend�s getting sick of the crappy beer anyway, and saves hers for me. Meanwhile, the crewmember that wants to cut me off takes a seat next to us, presumably to make sure I can actually handle my alcohol.
I can. I bring up her sarcastic answer she used on me earlier and said I recognize the signs of working too long with the general public, having to work retail myself. �What�s the winner?� I ask. �What�s the dumbest question you�ve ever had to endure?�
She smiles at the thought. It�s obvious that she�s saved these questions for storytelling amongst her friends. �Well,� she says, �I had one woman who asked me every ten minutes which ocean we were now in.�
�Ooh, that�s good,� we say in unison.
But she abruptly stops with the stories, probably remembering some sort of employee protocol. �But you know,� she says, �I realized after taking my mother on one of these trips that there really aren�t any truly stupid questions, it�s just, well, they�re like what you asked me earlier. You had a valid question, it was just phrased poorly.�
�Ah, that�s a cop out. How could you have phrased, �what ocean are we in� in a better way?�
She didn�t answer, instead moving to fetch a soft drink for a passenger who was too scared to stand on her own while the boat was in motion.
The crew stopped approaching us and asking if we needed another drink. If the mountain won�t come to Mohammad...
The fact that I was able to navigate the craft without falling meant they couldn�t cut me off.
We were close to shore now, and the sunset had decided to settle over the mountainside with little fanfare, but just a little before our third drink, one gray-black sleek form crested the water near our boat, headed in the other direction. The Girlfriend pointed, nearly shrieking with excitement.
�That was a dolphin!� she said. I followed her finger and for a split second, I saw it too.
And of course, the people sitting in the cabin didn�t see a damn thing.
Good.
