(Note: Like I said in the Introduction, none of these pictures are actually from my vacation. Our pictures are still “getting developed.”)
This would have been us. But it’s not.
We never got to drive up the volcano at 3:00 in the morning, hold each other and weep at the sight of “the most beautiful sunrise known to man”*, then bike down the volcano like we had planned on doing. Unfortunately, we got drunk the night before and overslept. My opinion? OVERRATED. The sun rises every single day. Like clockwork. I’m not worried about missing my opportunity.
I’m over it.
The reason we got so drunk the night before, other than the guilt over the sunblock application process, was that we had decided on going to the swankiest of swank hotel bars in The Four Seasons. Being the classy guys we were, we chugged some beers, a bottle of cheap champagne and called a cab service.
Now, my friends and I, coming from NY, have a checkered history with taxi drivers.
(Cut to scene of four of my friends hailing a taxi. Another friend and I hide in the shadows nearby. As the taxi pulls up, the four people get in and Friend #5 and I stealthily (at least we drunkenly thought so) creep up to the open rear door and dive in on our friends’ laps. We giggle, convinced we are undetected. The cab driver looks over his shoulder and sees my friend’s ass.
Cab driver: (in Middle Eastern Accent) “Only four people allowed.”
John, in front seat: “There’s only four of us.”
Cab driver: (motioning to my friend’s ass) “What about him?”
John: (looking stern) “There’s only four.”
Pause as they stare at each other. Then we drive away.)
No different this time, we pile into a rather spacious mini-van taxi and are acting bawdy, saying things like, “Are you kidding me? Of course I brought my knife. Every city has crime – Maui is no exception,” or “Ah shit . . . Guys, I peed myself. I did it again.”
It’s raining that night and we are loudly discussing in the back seat what our back stories will be if we talk to anyone at the bar. We decide that one of us will have a recently deceased wife and that this vacation is therapeutic. The cab driver seems scared.
As we pull up to the hotel, the cab begins to make a right turn into the driveway. The cab driver loses control of the van and suddenly we are skidding towards the “Welcome to Four Seasons” sign off to the side of the road. There is, of course, a raucous commotion in the cab as we are skidding. A combination of, “Whoa’s” and “Holy shit’s,” and “I love you guys!” Finally, when we come to a stop inches from the sign, everyone gets quiet sighing with relief. With impeccable timing, my friend Scott chimes in from the rear seat: “I think I lost the baby.”
God I hope our pictures don’t come out looking like this. Especially with the one leg thing.
* Through my objections to waking up at 2:30AM to go see this sunrise, my friends often reminded me that Mark Twain(!) described the sunrise at the volcano summit as “. . . the sublimest spectacle I ever witnessed.”
P.S. It’s common knowledge that Mark Twain just liked to hear himself talk.
Conversation had later on in the week:
John: “Wow, look at the sun setting over that mountain.”
Me: “I heard Mark Twain climaxed while watching the sun set here.”
Hey look! Another picture none of your friends will care about!