Workin' Vacation
The plane about skipped a beat and the heat about burnt the street.
At four a.m. we turned off the waterfalls. Can't be playing electrician and fiddling with the sky blue lenses and Flamingo pink spots with water running. Plus we had to recalibrate the flow. Seems a couple o' drunk tourists decided to take a dip in the 'river' and swum upstream to the falls. Then they decided it would be cool to go behind the falls.
And I admit, it is cool to go behind waterfalls. Especially real ones! I've done the tunnels behind Niagara Falls. I have made my way through the turbulence to get behind Beaver Falls in the Grand Canyon. I have even driven through and then behind a waterfall on a public bus in Bolivia.
These clowns got behind the genuine imitation waterfalls at the Westin but suffered for it. You see, the swimming pool(s) are everywhere. Hot tubs, cold dips, kiddie pools, water slides, swim up bars, water volleyball nets, kidney bean shapes were nearly as ubiquitous as pear shapes and they were nearly as ubiquitous as shapeless masses of under dressed human flesh.
Struggling jiggle pods of unsupported whiteness waddled reluctantly away from food courts as last resorts. They wore preposterous swimsuits that never made it to saltwater and probably wouldn't make it back to Iowa either. Some of the hipper husbands wore the stupid fuckin' sexual innuendo surf t-shirts that you saw everywhere. They won't be wearing those back in Cedar Rapids either. "Get you're stick waxed at Woody's".
So, these two complained that the force of the waterfall was too strong and hurt them. They claimed the power of the fake falls pushed them under. They thought they were gonna' die! If it wasn't for that unexplainable burst of adrenalin that accompanies the relentless desire to live, they wouldn't have found the strength to get out of the pummeling vortex.
When they regained equilibrium and recovered from the vertigo, they found themselves standing on the winding sidewalk that also goes behind the falls. Dazed and stunted and profoundly embarrassed, they latched onto the nearest, easily attained, middle intelligence emotion . . . anger!
They blamed the hotel.
Heaven forbid they actually swim in the ocean if they were looking for a little late night waterborne adventure. There are friggin' sharks an' shit out there. And who knows what kinda' slummy lowlife local might be lurking out on the beach.
They are actually public beaches. What bullshit! I pay all this money to stay at some hotel and they can't even work the local laws to keep the undesirables of the god damned beach.
So no, we didn't go to the ocean. Or the pools for that matter. We were drunk and now you are going to have to fix those falls.
Danny and I turned down the CFS's. We replaced some bulbs and tried not to wake up the flamingos.
Thus began my working vacation on Maui.
At four a.m. we turned off the waterfalls. Can't be playing electrician and fiddling with the sky blue lenses and Flamingo pink spots with water running. Plus we had to recalibrate the flow. Seems a couple o' drunk tourists decided to take a dip in the 'river' and swum upstream to the falls. Then they decided it would be cool to go behind the falls.
And I admit, it is cool to go behind waterfalls. Especially real ones! I've done the tunnels behind Niagara Falls. I have made my way through the turbulence to get behind Beaver Falls in the Grand Canyon. I have even driven through and then behind a waterfall on a public bus in Bolivia.
These clowns got behind the genuine imitation waterfalls at the Westin but suffered for it. You see, the swimming pool(s) are everywhere. Hot tubs, cold dips, kiddie pools, water slides, swim up bars, water volleyball nets, kidney bean shapes were nearly as ubiquitous as pear shapes and they were nearly as ubiquitous as shapeless masses of under dressed human flesh.
Struggling jiggle pods of unsupported whiteness waddled reluctantly away from food courts as last resorts. They wore preposterous swimsuits that never made it to saltwater and probably wouldn't make it back to Iowa either. Some of the hipper husbands wore the stupid fuckin' sexual innuendo surf t-shirts that you saw everywhere. They won't be wearing those back in Cedar Rapids either. "Get you're stick waxed at Woody's".
So, these two complained that the force of the waterfall was too strong and hurt them. They claimed the power of the fake falls pushed them under. They thought they were gonna' die! If it wasn't for that unexplainable burst of adrenalin that accompanies the relentless desire to live, they wouldn't have found the strength to get out of the pummeling vortex.
When they regained equilibrium and recovered from the vertigo, they found themselves standing on the winding sidewalk that also goes behind the falls. Dazed and stunted and profoundly embarrassed, they latched onto the nearest, easily attained, middle intelligence emotion . . . anger!
They blamed the hotel.
Heaven forbid they actually swim in the ocean if they were looking for a little late night waterborne adventure. There are friggin' sharks an' shit out there. And who knows what kinda' slummy lowlife local might be lurking out on the beach.
They are actually public beaches. What bullshit! I pay all this money to stay at some hotel and they can't even work the local laws to keep the undesirables of the god damned beach.
So no, we didn't go to the ocean. Or the pools for that matter. We were drunk and now you are going to have to fix those falls.
Danny and I turned down the CFS's. We replaced some bulbs and tried not to wake up the flamingos.
Thus began my working vacation on Maui.
posted by Steve-O at 12:19 PM
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