Old Lahaina Luau
March 16, 2008
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Hawaii had been a mysterious memory for both of us,
a place lost in the sands of time -- if not quite the
time of Captain Cook and King Kamehameha, at least as
far back as the Apollo-Soyuz mission (when I last visited)
or the days of Oingo Boingo (when Jen did).
People kept telling us it was still out there, somewhere in
the middle of the Pacific. But we couldn't see it -- not even
from the Marin Headlands. Still, our friends Steve and Cali
insisted it was there, and managed to talk us into flying out
there to join them at their favorite Maui haunt over Spring Break.
Trotting through the terminal at Honolulu Airport, trying to
make a tight connection to our island hopper, I moaned about
the foolishness of signing up for a big pig-roasting luau
on our arrival evening. But we made our flight, and made
it across Maui in our
convertible Mustang in plenty of time, Steve and Cali giving
us directions over the cell phone and waiting to welcome us
with fruity cocktails.
Down the road in Lahaina, sandwiched between the Cannery Mall
and the Pacific, they put on one heckuva nice show, pulling
roasted pig from the ground, pouring lots of fruity colored
drinks, and performing lots of Polynesian booty-shaking into
the warm tropical night.