Christopher Hitchens, �The Trial of Henry Kissinger�
This is part nineteen of a 25-part story about Hawaii. The story begins here. Part five is located here. Part ten is here. And part fifteen is here. Other parts you'll have to find yourself. So there.
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The sun sets at seven o�clock and the entire campground goes dark. In addition, the number of flies that appear as the sun gets lower in the sky seems to be somehow related. We didn�t bring any source of light, and the flies are becoming unbearable, so we retire to our tent and go to sleep.
Or try to sleep, anyway. The next morning, we made a list of things that suck about camping.
- The couple that are fighting right by our tent, yelling at each other.
- Kids who cry.
- Car alarms.
- People on cell phones.
- Hippies playing bad reggae.
- Anybody who doesn�t have the decency to shut the fuck up after 11 p.m.
- Rainstorms that are so intense, we�re sure our tent is going to collapse.
- Roosters.
We fell asleep so early the night before that despite being woken several times, we wake up very early the next day. I had decided that we need real snorkeling equipment, and knew there would be rental places about a half-hour back, in a town called Hanalei.
Yes, that�s the name of the town. And yes, they milk the reference, selling shirts with pictures of dragons wearing flower leis.
We eat breakfast at a place that has the slogan, �Gourmet food, on paper plates.� They also don�t serve alcohol, but you are allowed to bring your own. I�ve been to this place before on a previous trip and saw a group of four sharing a bottle of wine, serving it in the paper cups that the restaurant provides. Before we order, we stop in the nearby supermarket and grab a 22-ounce bottle of Newcastle, and another of Guinness.
I wait until The Girlfriend opens her bottle and takes a drink before I tell her to look at her phone to check the time.
It�s 9:30 in the morning, and we�re drinking.
And we�re drinking at 9:30, on Kaua�i..
We stop at another supermarket and try to get food that�s not strictly junk food. We also rent actual snorkel gear. I open the trunk and I see that the rain from the night before has soaked everything in the trunk. I open my canvas bag that holds all my clothes, and supplies.
Everything is soaked. The 17 books I had already finished have melted into one single book. I peel them apart and set them in the backseat to dry.
We get back to the campsite. The beer and the exertion from the day before, as well as our slight sunburns, have killed any desire to do much of anything. We go into the tent, planning to grab a quick nap.
Arlette zips up the tent and looks at me. �How quiet do you think you can be?� she asks.
I guess that needs explaining. Let�s just say that I�m not the quietest lay in the world.
I manage to keep quiet.
Well, sort of quiet.
