Saturday, July 09, 2005
Walking out of the house we rounded the bend and pushed up the hill to the highway and began our mile-long trek to Patel's gas station to purchase some adult beverages to bring as a present to the party at which we hoped to soon be in attendance. The walk was nice, the beer warm (it'd get warm before we reached the house anyway, so the thought was that buying it warm would help push away the skunks and keep drinkability high) and proprietorship hospitality high. D was off to work so it was me and the chicks standing on the side of the road, thumbs extended, beer fermenting in the sun as vehicle after vehicle passed us by with a laugh or unwasted glance. Finally, after an hour of waiting, a large white GMC pick-up cranked over onto the shoulder and I piled into the cab and the girls tumbled into the bed (their request). The driver was a young-ish dude, nice, but I couldn't understand a damn word he said. No worries, I played it off as though I could decipher his ramblings.
Finally, hours after leaving the farm, we arrived at our host farm which perched itself high upon the shoulders of whichever damn fountain of lava that is with a commanding view of the coastline and the lights of Kailua-Kona twinkling in the mist shrouded distance. A dog the size of an elephant greeted us with barks and a wagging tail that levelled the saplings on each side of his enormous bulk. The hosts' drink-addled voices fell upon our ears in greeting, and our gifting of beer was greeted with raucous cries of glee. Settling down at the table of finger foods and aps we were plied with beers and stories of British wit and humor (which truly ranks among the best in at lesat the UK).
The weather was warm, but a cool breeze kept my sweat production from reaching levels of indecency which was nice. The moon and stars shone thru the whisps of clouds racing across the sky and the absence of earthly lights made for a beautiful heaven-lit scene.
As the beer and wine and champagne flowed, things soon escalated into chaos. Me and M, one of our hosts, got into a long discussion about China (he was there not long ago) and Wal-Mart and travel and politics (he apologized before telling me that he hates and mistrusts all politicians, as though that might offend me. I tittered). Mid-way through a rant against the evils of margaritas without salt he leapt onto the rail around the deck and danced a little jig while singing the refrain from '99 bottles of beer on the wall'. Cheers and clapping accompanied his performance, and when he mis-stepped and did a header down into the bushes we had no recourse but to toss a standing ovation which sailed out over the rail and down to his mangled body on the ground. Unperterbed, he jumped back to his feet and resumed his performance, capering off into the yard and into the shadows. As he receded from view we took our seats and awaited the next act of imbecility.
Long our wait was not to be. Hazel got up and quietly slipped into the house without anyone but me noticing. She looked suspicious so I took another swig of beer and swallowed it. Reappearing on the balcony overhead she launched into her own rendition of the garden scene in Romeo and Juliet which contained excerpts from Snoop's 'Gin and Juice' and the perennial favorite 'Tommy Boy' ("Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou? Be cautious, my love, yon fat whale has alit upon your boat"). Her man-friend, the brooding pseudo-hippie in the corner was a less than convincing Romeo ("Don't you realize that Shakespeare was repressing people long before he found his love for a good spliff? Life is so dead. And your Romeo is right here or can't you see me thru my hair and trust-fund embracing lifestyle?"). It was truly an amazing performance and the most interesting rendition of Will that I've yet seen. The act was finished when she doffed her clothes and did a cannonball into the kiddie pool and splashed M who had just reappeared from the woods still jigging all over the yard.
Finally overcome with the debauchery and pudding we piled into one car and T's wife ("I am always the DD. He is the party guy who can't say no") drove us home. She was nice enough to slow down to 5 mph as we passed the farm and as we've been practicing dive rolls all week on the farm no scathing occured.
It was now 9:30pm.
D arrived home from work at 10pm. A 'Go Fish' tourney started up and went all night. Many burritos and corn chips and tater tots and one beer later it ended, with me atop the pile as the fisher extrordinaire.
I love coffee