Meth in Maui
"This is a throwback story from our time hitchhiking around the island of Maui. When the wife and I were bummin' it on the Hawaiian Islands for our honeymoon. I've added dialogue based on memory. I will continue to post stories as I get around to writing them from my recent travels. Please comment if you enjoy it or have any suggestions on how to improve my writing. Thanks and enjoy!"
After a two and a half month long stint of roughin’ it near the sandy loams of the North Shore, packing chutes, and landscaping, our gypsy blood took us on another transience, Maui.
My wife never thumbed it before, and I spent my first time hitchhiking with a woman, so it made a first for both of us. After booking a luxurious flight in coach, at about $3.00 per mile, courtesy of the immaculate godsend, Hawaiian Air, I set my expectations high for this sought out paradise.
We stepped off the plane, our packs strung high around our backs, with no particular destination in mind. I looked up at the sinister sky cackling down upon us. Her thunderous cries reflected in the copious puddles beneath our squishy tracks.
“Damnnit, we just left Kauai cuz of this shit,” I yammered to Kelly in a hissy fit.
“We’ll figure it out honey…I’m sure there’s a pavilion somewhere to stay outta the rain.”
We watched as taxis and shuttles picked up a limitless amount of tourists dressed for vacationing. They sported ridiculous straw hats, Hawaiian t-shirts, sandals, scandalous skirts, and high-end name brand attire. The lot of them squished into the shuttles, stuffing their enormous suitcases on-board as they stood, shoulder-to-shoulder, to get to their rental cars not even a mile away.
We walked; our boots squeaking through the pools of water on the sidewalk, following the wails of the ocean. The soft pitter-patter of drops splashing against us slowly stopped. But once you’re wet, you’re wet. We poked along, tramping past an industrial parking lot, jam-packed with rental cars and antsy taxi drivers, waiting to make buck.
A campground lay ahead beyond the coastal dunes and wetlands of Kanaha Beach Park. The sandy shoreline birthed life to a plethora of flora. Between the swollen, green, leaves of Bacopa and Pickleweed, lay a diverse co-existence of native jungle plants thriving amongst Hibicus, and Ironweed trees. With over 30 species of native plants, each mile spawned new eye-candy for our wanderlust.
I plopped my ass in the sand, digging a pit to start a fire, while Kelly gathered tinder. The Stratus clouds parted like the Red Sea, opening up a clear picture of West Maui. Its lush rugged mountains and dense rainforest twinkled yonder calling my name with a soothing lust.
I fumbled around in my pack for the instant coffee and a couple ramen, while we stoked the fire amidst the humid bits of rage. The sky calmed to a misty dark hue. Sprawling out on the sand we sipped cowboy coffee, so dark, so strong, so dissatisfyingly tasteful, without an ounce of clothing drier than hours prior.
“We should probly find a spot to lay it down for the night, as old Brisk would say,” I mumbled.
“Lay it down,” Kelly muttered?
“Ya know…camp…home bum it…find a spot to sleep for the night,” I snickered with a childish grin.
“Oh, you don’t have to be a meanie pants.”
“Yeah…yeah…well it’s gettin’ dark…alotta meth heads camped up around here. I saw all their tents and shit scattered in the woods. Not sleepin’ near those homebum paddies. Let’s get at it…”
“Okkkkay, five more minutes, I wanna enjoy more coffee first, pweaseee.”
I shook my head with a bit of smirk curling up my face…”Yeah…yeah…,” I muttered.
The serenity of the waves splashed against the shore like a tranquil lullaby as we squabbled between the jetties seeking shelter. I peered off between the brush, Tree Heliotrope and Naupaka clustered together like a forest of lillypads, rustling followed, by a grueling shadow.
“We’re bein’ followed,” I whispered under my breath.
I reached down in my pocket concealing my knife in the palm of my hand as we walked gingerly along the coastline.
“How can you tell?”
“That shady dude over there…see em…he keeps stoppin’ behind the bushes whenever I look over there…looks spun out or somethin’…just sit here here…wait for em to leave…”
Just as I unstrapped my pack I heard footsteps approaching, getting closer and closer. I turned around with a fierce stare of anger dwindling in my eye and remained silent.
“Hiii, uh…uh…uh…you guys…you guys didn’t see…see a yellow tarp…did ja…did ja…you didn’t…you didn’t…take it?…see I set it down…down over there…or well…maybe it was over there…well iunno…but it’s around hurr, somewhere,” he stuttered while his eyes flickered like a dead man twitching.
“No, we didn’t see it. I don’t have a tarp…threw ours out a few days ago cuz of holes…gotta get a new one. Sorry bud, hope ya find it,” I said.
“Ohhhh….okkk…,” he mumbled as his teeth grinded against one another. He moseyed off, his head bobbing from side-to-side, as he wandered back through the trash infested homebum camps, spun out on dope.
“Seee…not stayin’ anywhere near here…fuck that guy, Johnny Jitters…accusin’ me of stealin’ his shit…people like him ya wanna stay far away from at night…last thing I want is this ass-hat stealin’ my shit at night cuz he thinks I got his tarp. Damn junkies. Let’s head out the other way towards the campground.”
Kelly nodded and we wandered along the shoreline retracing our footprints in the sand. The rain held up despite the hellbent tears of Mother Nature following our every footstep. We wandered towards a dense section of Ironweed as the sun whimpered behind the clouds, finding a camp near the base of the shore. With no tarp or waterproof shelter I prayed for one night out of the rain, just one.