Just as the huge Hawaiian came even with the lavatory, Willie kicked the door with all his might, and the door swung open, striking the Hawaiian in the back of the head.
Dazed, he released the flight attendant and slumped to the floor.
Grant was on him in an instant and cuffed his hands behind his back.
As I helped him move the helpless man to a sitting position, he leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Okay, now we’re even.”
After order had been restored, Willie returned to his seat.
He leaned over and asked, “Are we still flyin’ at thirty-two thousand feet?”
“Yes, I suppose we are.”
“Great! Den I’se a member of the Six Mile High Club.”
Bragging rights. I was sure Louie the Lip would be impressed.
CHAPTER 10
The minute we stepped off the plane, we knew we were in a different world.
The fragrance of thousands of flower blossoms mingled with salt sea air, warmed by a tropical sun and delivered to us by gentle trade winds, assaulted our senses. The four of us just stood there breathing in the delicious elixir.
Eventually, we got in line with our fellow passengers and headed to the baggage claim area.
As we approached the crowded carousel, I saw a young man and woman holding a placard that said, “Williams party.”
I waived and said, “I’m Walter Williams.”
“Aloha, and welcome to the island. I am Jimmy, and this is my wife, Leilani. I am a cousin of Buddy Kalakoa and will be your guide while you are on Oahu.”
Leilani stepped forward and placed a gorgeous white flower lei around my neck and kissed me on the cheek.
Then Jimmy’s attention was directed to Maggie. “And you must be Hualani. Welcome, sister.” He placed the same lei around her neck.
Evidently Buddy had shared Maggie’s heritage with the family back home.
I thought Maggie was going to have an orgasm right there in the airport.
“What are these flowers? I’ve never smelled anything so wonderful in my whole life.”
“This lei is made from the tuberose. Its wonderful fragrance is befitting one as lovely as you.”
That Jimmy was really smooth. I’ll bet he had done this before.
After Willie and Mary received their traditional Hawaiian greeting, we retrieved our bags and headed to Jimmy’s van.
Our goal was to spend a few days on Oahu to get over the jet lag and see some sights before we flew to Kauai for the wedding.
It was almost seven in the evening when Jimmy dropped us off at our hotel. We had been in traveling mode for seventeen hours, and we were all exhausted.
“You guys get some supper and a good night’s rest, and I’ll pick you up at nine thirty in the morning.”
Our hotel was the Sheraton Waikiki, right on the water at the north end of the famous Waikiki Beach.
We decided to just get some sandwiches to take to our rooms and chill out for the evening.
Our room was on the twenty-fifth floor. We stowed our bags, threw open the drapes, and stepped onto the lanai. I’ll never forget the sight that met our eyes.
Our room faced the west, and the sun was just beginning to slide into the azure blue water of the Pacific. The puffy clouds above were painted with a hundred different hues of red and gold. The gentle waves washed onto the shores of Waikiki Beach, and in the distance Diamond Head reflected the last dazzling rays of the setting sun.
We held each other close and just stood there until the last remnants of daylight surrendered to the night.
Then an entirely different but just as beautiful scene unfolded.
In the distance we could see the red and green running lights of passing ships, and Waikiki Beach came alive with thousands of twinkling lights as far as we could see. It looked as if a fairy had scattered her glittering dust along the beach.
Just when we were about to call it a day, a strange glow arose from behind Diamond Head. We stood in awe as a full moon slowly raised its head from behind the enormous crater. As it rose in the sky, its beams cast silvery, undulating shadows on the ocean swells.
Maggie gave me a squeeze. “Walt, it’s just perfect. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”
“Me too. You know, this is our first night in paradise. I can only think of one thing that could make it more perfect. What do you think?”
“I think I need to take a shower and freshen up. Then let’s see what develops.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Maggie hit the bathroom first and stood under the hot shower so long I began to wonder if there would be any hot water left for me.
She finally emerged, wrapped in a fluffy towel.
“Okay, big boy. Your turn, and I’ll be right here waiting for you.” She patted the bed.
When the hot spray from the shower hit my body,
I realized why she had dawdled so long. It felt great. I stood there until I started to get pink and wrinkly.
I dried, wrapped a towel around my rosy body, and headed to the bedroom with visions of ecstasy dancing in my head.
And there was my beautiful bride-to-be—sound asleep.
Paradise would have to wait.
I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
I slept soundly until I felt Maggie thrashing around. I looked at my watch. It was three-thirty in the morning.
I rolled over and tried to close my eyes, but they just wouldn’t cooperate. I was wide-awake.
Then I heard Maggie whisper, “Are you awake?”
“Yep.”
“But it’s the middle of the night.”
“Not to our bodies. They think its eight-thirty.”
“So this is jet lag, huh?”
“As long as we’re up, how about a walk along the beach? It probably won’t be real crowded.”
“Sounds good to me.”
We slipped on our swimsuits and flip-flops and headed to the beach.
The moon was starting its descent into the horizon but was still high enough into the sky to illuminate the waves as they broke along the beach.
We strolled hand in hand, letting the surf wrap around our feet and ankles. Each time the tide came in, Maggie would squeal and giggle and dance, and it made me love her even more.
In the distance, I saw something bobbing up and down in the surf. I had read about the tide washing flotsam and jetsam ashore, and I assumed it was a bag of trash or a Styrofoam cooler that had fallen off a passing ship.
As we drew near, the bobbing object suddenly sprouted arms and a head and began frantically waving.
It was Mary.
“Hey, Mr. Walt. Come on in. The water’s great.”
“Uh, thanks. I think we’ll pass.”
“Okay, then I’ll come in.”
As she emerged from the deep, the first image that popped into my mind was from the 1954 movie classic The Creature From The Black Lagoon as the monster silently slipped from the water.
Only this time, it was my old friend wearing nothing but an itsy bitsy, teeny weenie, yellow polka dot bikini.
No matter how dear the friend, there are just some things that shouldn’t be seen.
I didn’t know they even made bikinis that size.
I whispered to Maggie, “That is just wrong on so many levels.”
She whispered back, “Try not to look.”
I averted my eyes and saw Willie sitting in the sand. I hadn’t noticed him before. He sort of blended into the background, it being night and all.
I gave him a quizzical look, and he just shrugged his shoulders.
There are just some things you can’t control.
Willie and Mary joined us for the remainder of our beach walk. I found comfort in the fact that no one else was awake to see this odd foursome strolling Waikiki Beach.
It probably wouldn’t be good for tourism.
We returned to the Sheraton just at daybreak, showered, dressed, and reconvened in the hotel dining r
oom.
The breakfast buffet was what you dream about.
As I surveyed the sumptuous array and the beautiful setting, the words of a song from South Pacific came to mind:
We’ve got sunlight on the sand; we’ve got moonlight on the sea.
We’ve got mangos and bananas you can pick right off the tree.
Sure enough, there were mangos, bananas, papaya, pineapple, carved ham, omelets, basically anything to please the tourist palate.
I think I gained three pounds just looking at it.
We finished our lavish breakfast just in time to meet Jimmy in front of the hotel.
“Climb in. I’ve got a great day planned for us on the south side of the island. First stop, Hanauma Bay.”
Jimmy was a great guide. The Hanauma Bay Nature Reserve was magnificent, and we were blessed to have someone along who had grown up on the island. He shared his personal insights and stories, which made the experience even more memorable.
The next stop was Sea Life Park. This attraction was obviously designed with the tourist in mind. There were shows featuring birds, turtles, penguins, and, of course, the bottle-nosed dolphin.
Jimmy led us into a large covered arena with stadium seats circling a large pool. He directed us to some seats high above the pool.
Mary took exception.
“This is the dolphin show, right? I love dolphins, so I ain’t gonna sit way up there. I want to be right here by the glass where I can see them up close and personal.”
Jimmy just shrugged. He already figured out that there was no point in arguing with Mary.
The dolphins were wonderful. They jumped, waved their fins, balanced balls, and did all kinds of fabulous tricks. I could see that Mary was having a ball.
At the conclusion of the show, the MC announced that anyone sitting up close might want to move back a few rows.
Not Mary. You know, up close and personal.
The dolphins swam in circles around the pool, gaining speed with each lap. Finally, the trainer gave the signal, and all three dolphins came out of the water and crashed down in a thundering back flip that sent a tidal wave cascading over the edge of the pool—right on top of Mary.
The crowd roared, the dolphins grinned, and all I heard out of Mary was, “Well, damn!”
The sign next to her seat reading “splash zone” probably took on new meaning for her.
Sea Life Park is right on the ocean, and there are wild birds everywhere. “Wild” might be somewhat of a misnomer. While these birds certainly weren’t in captivity, they had lived around people all their lives and were not intimidated by our presence.
Quite the contrary, they knew we humans were good for a handout, and our feathered friends, from tiny sparrows to seagulls with eighteen-inch wing- spans, followed us around hoping for a tasty morsel.
Like much of the US citizenry, they had discovered it was much easier to live on the dole than to actually work for their food.
Park officials discouraged such behavior and had posted signs everywhere admonishing us, “Please don’t feed the birds.”
It was a futile effort. Either all the tourists are illiterate or just don’t give a damn. There was plenty for the birds to eat.
We were getting hungry too, so we headed to the snack bar and ordered burgers and fries, traditional Hawaiian fare.
We found a table in the shade of a beautiful plumeria tree in full blossom. It was so relaxing, just sitting in this beautiful place with friends—friends feeding the birds!
Mary was pinching off little bits of her French fries and coaxing a little brown dove closer and closer to the table.
I was about to admonish her when I heard Willie exclaim, “Hey, I didn’t want no mayonnaise on my sandwich.”
I looked at Willie’s sandwich, and I looked in the tree directly over his head.
A big white gull peered back at us, and I swear he was smiling.
“Uh, Willie, I wouldn’t eat that if I were you.”
Willie looked up and, like Mary, simply muttered,
“Well, damn!”
We were back at the Sheraton by late afternoon. Jimmy told us to shower and relax, and he would pick us up at seven for dinner.
It wasn’t far down the strip to Duke’s Barefoot Bar on the Beach. The restaurant was named after Duke Kahanamoku, the famous Hawaiian surfer. The atmosphere was exactly what we had hoped for: soft Hawaiian music, the surf and sand a stone’s throw away, good food, and fruity drinks with little umbrellas.
Mary was in hog heaven.
As she proudly hoisted her first piña colada, it brought to mind Steve Martin in The Jerk as he jauntily lifted his umbrella drink and proclaimed, “Be somebody!”
The restaurant was packed, and I noticed many of the diners wore little badges. We were obviously in the midst of a convention crowd.
While this wasn’t exactly a Hooters restaurant, it was obvious that the waitresses weren’t hired for their serving skills alone. Island beauties with long black hair, dressed in short, formfitting sheaths, scurried among the diners delivering food and drinks.
The booze flowed freely, and after enough mai tais to float a battleship, the convention boys started acting like sailors on shore leave.
I had noticed one particularly obnoxious guy trying to cop a feel. The waitress had deftly sidestepped the intended grope and moved on without causing a scene.
But when the next round was delivered, he had apparently decided not to take no for an answer.
While both her hands were busy balancing a tray of drinks, Mr. Macho grabbed a handful of tush and squeezed.
“Please, sir. Don’t do that,” she said.
“Aw, come on, honey. You know you like it. Besides, if you’re not asking for it, how come you’re dressing that way?” And with that, he slipped his arms around her waist and grabbed a cheek with each hand.
“Please! Stop!” she pleaded.
I had seen enough.
I normally try not to get involved in other people’s affairs, but macho bullies abusing women is one of my hot buttons.
Without really giving much thought to the consequences, I rose from my seat and approached the offending oaf.
“Look, mister, the lady asked you nicely to let go.
Why not give her a break?”
He just looked at me in disbelief. “Butt out, grandpa.”
“Sorry, I can’t do that.”
He was obviously not used to being talked back to, and I soon discovered why.
He released the girl, and as he lifted his six-foot-two, 220 pound frame out of the chair, I noticed his nametag that read, “Earl, Building Contractor’s Convention.”
Oops!
I could tell right away that he was really pissed. The fire in his eyes told me I was in trouble, but the booze in his belly leveled the playing field.
He reared back to deliver a roundhouse you could see coming from a mile away. The alcohol dulled his reflexes just enough for me to duck under the huge fist, which landed squarely on the chin of a busboy who was unfortunate enough to be passing by. The tray flew into the air and landed in the middle of the table, spewing leftovers into the laps of Earl’s dining companions. They leaped from their seats and converged on me like a pack of hyenas on a gazelle.
The first guy to reach me was about to exact his revenge, when a black streak hit him from behind and took him to the floor.
If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn that Willie had been a linebacker for the Kansas City Chiefs.
In the meantime, the busboys had come to the rescue of their fallen comrade. It was obvious that the boozed-up conventioneers were no match for these sleek island guys.
I was just picking myself up when I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Earl was swinging a tray at the back of my head. The last thing I heard before the lights went out was sirens wailing in the distance.
When I regained consciousness, I found my head resting in Willie’s lap.
Slowly, I rose up, my hea
d nearly exploding. When my senses finally returned, I looked around and found myself—in jail?
I looked at Willie.
He just grinned and said, “I guess we done took care of those guys, didn’t we?” Then he pointed to the cell across the room.
Earl and his cohorts were slumped on the floor nursing cuts, bruises, and the mother of all hangovers.
I had never been on this side of the bars before, and it was a strange feeling. As I sat contemplating our situation, the words Elvis sang in a similar situation in Blue Hawaii came to mind:
I’m a poor Hawaiian beach boy, a long way from the beach, ‘cause someone shoved his face against my hand.
Now I’m a kissing cousin to a ripe pineapple; I’m in the can.
I heard a commotion in the hallway and saw a smiling Jimmy coming down the hall with a guard.
“Well, bro, you sure earned your Hawaiian name last night: Kamamalu, the protector. You’re kind of a hero.”
“How come I don’t feel like a hero? And what’s my captain going to say when he finds out I’m in jail?”
“You aren’t in jail anymore. My cousin manages Dukes, and he told the cops how you rescued Maile from those creeps. You’re free to go.”
The guard unlocked the door, and we followed Jimmy to his waiting van. Maggie was waiting for me inside, and I was hoping for a hero’s welcome.
It was then I noticed that I was covered in blood, garbage, puke, and stale booze.
Maggie rolled her eyes, covered her nose, and moved to the front seat beside Jimmy.
My hero’s welcome would have to wait.
The next two days were terrific.
Jimmy took us across the Pali to the Polynesian
Cultural Center on the other side of the island, and we visited beautiful Waimea Falls Park on the north shore. We did all of the wonderful things that every tourist does that makes Hawaii one of the best vacation spots on the planet.
We had one day left on Oahu, and Jimmy asked if there was anything else we wanted to see.
“Jimmy, you’ve been a wonderful guide and friend, and we have loved all the places you have taken us, but so far everything has been the usual tourist places. I know this stuff is all commercial. It’s not the real Hawaii. I want you to take us to the village near Waimanolo.”
[Lady Justice 03] - Lady Justice Gets Lei'd Page 10