Yes, but Fabio started it…

I went out to Makapu’u beach because I was tired of the crowded beach scene at Waikiki. Trying to get enough sand space to lay a towel down is dicey enough, but you never know if the person next to you is one of the Usual Suspects:

Is he/she:

A. The Talker.

Who the frig talks on a cellphone on the beach? Wait, what? You’re telling the person on the other line who is in a snowstorm that you are…gasp..lying on the beach? Oh my god! Can you hear me now? Your network called: you are an idiot! Sand is the natural enemy of your Nokia!

B. The Child.

The lovable little tyke that will inevitably run into the water only to emerge again, and shake itself like a dog, spraying you with unwelcome sand and water, and may occasionally fling a plastic shovel in your direction, prompting you to give yourself a little mental high five for not procreating.

C.

The Make-Out Couple.

At first they’re just barely tolerable love-dovey, “schnookums this” and “pookums that,” and "I love you so much, I can’t believe that we’re honeymooning in Hawaii." And then her top is undone and you can’t see his hands anymore and you’re pretty sure that some people would pay money to see this; you’re just not one of them.

D.

The Stealth Bomber.

One minute you’re soaking in the sun, the next you are embattled with a toxic aroma reminiscent of macadamia nuts, pineapple, bacon, eggs and whatever was on the free continental breakfast at the hotel and you stare over at the perp, usually an old guy with white hair growing off his gut in tufts and you think, “good god man, what died inside you?”

And finally, my personal favorite:

E.

The Dumbass who won’t take the hint that you are not interested.

No, I don’t want your number, your name, or the name of the place where you are staying. No, I don’t need help applying sunscreen. No, I did not miss a spot on my back, I’m very conscientious about sunscreen application, thank you very much. Yes, I do have a boyfriend. Yes, he is an escaped convict. Yes, he did do 3-5 for deadly assault with his bare hands. He should be here any moment. Why isn't he here yet? Because all that time in solitary confinement made him sensitive to the sun.

So yes, tired of this cast of colorful characters, I get on a bus and head to Makapu’u which is in Southern Oahu and is only crowded if you’re a surfer, not a beachgoer.

Makapu’u means “bulging eye.” Not quite a nice moniker for such a becoming spot, but really, maybe they should have called it “bulging disc” because if you fall down on the hike into the beach, your chiropractor will be picking porous gray rock out of your spine for the rest of your natural life.

From the shores of Makapu’u, you can see Rabbit Island, which does not have a fun Hawaiian name that would be difficult to pronounce. It’s called Rabbit Island because the savages who used to live out there would hunt the rabbits, roast them, and then wear their pelts as hats…Kidding! The island resembles a lop-eared rabbit swimming out of the surf. I will attest that rabbits can swim. My beloved Buttons (hey don’t look at me, I didn’t name him), god rest his furry little soul, was a great swimmer. Whether he swam out of love of the water or fear of drowning, I will never know. For those of you who are curious, rabbits swim just like dogs. (See top pic, I kinda see the rabbit. Could just have easily been called Dog Island).

Anyway, like I said, gorgeous scenery, white sand, blue water, surfers out in the distance. Not many people on the beach. I walk all the way down to the edge and pass this:

(SEE LAST PICTURE OF FABIO)

Clearly, this dude and his lady are European. Only the EU makes “swimsuits” such as these and wears them without a trace of irony or wedgie. On Europeans have butts that look like this. I just kinda gawk for a minute. And then I snap a picture because well…I do it for you, gentle readers. All for you.

Fabio and his thong go swimming and lady proceeds to disrobe. All the way. Total nudity. I sit up and look around. Seriously? Did I miss a posted sign? Nudists welcome? To be fair, we (me, Fabio and friend are sort of cut off from the rest of the beach by rock croppings), but really? Nekkid?

Fabio emerges from the surf. My eyes are burning out of my skull from the image of his little mankini and I’m chewing the skin off the inside of my cheeks to keep from laughing loudly and hysterically like a baboon. Clearly, I am a beacon of maturity.

So I’ve got the naked Europeans to the left and nothing to my right but the cliff wall. No surfers, no beachgoers, no beach patrol. And so I lie there a minute and think, why not?

Tan lines are sooooo 2008, and why not start of the new year sans weird white lines, at least where it matters. So I decide to tan topless.

(Pause. Am waiting for Mom to stop crying).

(Am still waiting).

We good? Awesome. So there I was tanning beneath arching, primordial cliff walls and crashing wave, glorious sun streaming down, totally topless, and you know what happened then?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The sun did not fall from the sky. The beach patrol did not come issue me a citation for public lewdness. Japanese tourists did not appear wielding flashing cameras. A bird did not crap on me causing me to jump up and run around the beach attracting attention to my toplessness. Nothing. I didn’t even get a sunburn.

The only thing that did happen is that I wound up with no tan lines and ended up looked pretty spiffy in my going-out dress that night as a result. Also, I would now say that I’m less closer to “sand” colored and approaching “nut” colored on the tan spectrum thanks to my scrupulous applications of Maui Baby. Excellent.

All I have to say for myself is: Mom, blame Fabio…he started it.

The Ballad of Teddy and Miss Baha

Today involved a series of mishaps beginning with the killer: forgetting to charge the battery on the camera, so I had to buy a cheap throwaway one, which is why the pics don’t look that good. The second mishap, was not mine, but worked to my advantage. The concierge at my hotel told me that Sea Life Park opened at 9:00 am, which was awesome, because I’d been awake since 7:00 am, unable to sleep.

Of course, when I get to Sea Life Park, which is an hour bus ride from my place, I am informed by the matronly admission person that I am an hour early, the park doesn’t open until 10:00, only special tours are allowed in before 9:00. Sigh, so I go sit on a bench that’s made to look like you’re sitting on a sea turtle’s back. Ms. Matronly looks at me thoughtfully, and then beckons me over. “You look like my daughter-in-law,” she says, “you go on in sweetie, just tell them you’re with the Sheraton tour, if anyone asks.”

Awesome, this means the park is empty except for a few guided tours. I feel like a celebrity with unobstructed access to all the exhibits, no having to push small, nose-picking children out of the way. The penguins are mine alone to enjoy. They float on their backs and flap their little flippers at me because they’re excited to see someone. The sea turtles are inquisitive. The seal lions…are fat and sleeping. They haven’t roused their enormous, shiny blubbering bulks yet. Fatties.

I make my way up and down the paths until I come to an arena; I glance at it, just a big tank. I walk by, but then something catches my eyes, are those…rogue penguins? At the top of the tank are these three penguins, not in the water, but on the platform. And now that I’m squinting, I see the gray graceful figure of a dolphin in the water. Now I am intrigued. Solo dolphin in an empty arena and potential escapee penguins? I’m in. So I move in for a closer look.

I inch closer to the tank (I inch not because I'm trying to be all covert, but because I’ve already slipped and nearly killed myself because my flipflops have no traction and the floor is wet and slimy). And like a little kid, I kinda press my hands, and possibly, my nose against it. I think the dolphin is smiling at me.

“His name is Teddy,” says a voice behind me. I turn around, a little embarrassed and try to cover up my greasy paw prints on the glass. There’s a grinning guy wearing a pastel blue STAFF shirt. I want to get the attention of my greasy smears on the glass. “What’s with the penguins?”

The guy grins and launches into this convoluted story about how those cute little tuxedos are kind of like the opening act for Teddy and are sadly, not on the lam. “Would you like to meet them? And the big guy?” He asks, gesturing to Teddy. Do I want to meet the dolphin? Oh, hell yah! He adds, “I mean, it’s not supposed to, but no one’s here yet, as long as you don’t tell anyone or take any pictures.” Right, who am I gonna tell, besides my whole blog and its 6 followers (yeah, thanks guys).

I'm going to call this guy, “Kemo,” (which is actually the name of a guy I work with, but I want to protect this guy’s identity, that and I probably couldn’t spell his actual Hawaiian name, and he kinda looks like a Kemo, so we’re going with it). Kemo takes me on a VIP tour behind the scenes; imagine traffic cones and buckets with silvery fish and weird looking dolphin toys, clipboards, cleaning schedules, all very glam.

This is all very fine and good, but then I get to touch penguins. Sadly, this is not as exciting as it sounds. Penguins don’t actually like to be touched, so it requires me to feed them oily little fish and even then they shy away when you want to touch them. Fine, whatever. Aloof penguins.

Teddy on the other hand comes right over and lets me touch him, shake his fins, rub his belly. Kemo then proceeds to tell me all about the inter-tank dolphin drama. Turns out that Teddy is currently pining for Miss Baha. Miss Baha is currently in the connected tank behind us with Kona. Teddy and Kona are separated because they don’t have a great working relationship. Not like gouge each other in the gills to the death bad, but Teddy has a thing for Miss Baha, Kona’s girl. “Kona,” Kemo says, “is kinda like the Big Kahuna. Do you know mainlanders know that word?” I pretend I don’t and kinda sound it out for his gratification “Kaaaa-hhhhuuuuu-naaa,” I say aloud. “Very good,” he nods and I wonder if he’s gonna feed me an oily little fish as a reward. But, he’s very nice and he’s letting me play with the dolphins, so I’m not about to foul this all up by being snarky.

As I’m playing with Teddy, who makes all sorts of fun noises, Kemo further explains the aquatic love triangle between Teddy, Miss Baha and Kona. Kona is Sea Life Park’s prize performer because he’s not only super smart, but incredibly agile and easy to teach tricks. He’s also locally grown, farm raised or something, like coffee. And Teddy, well Teddy is the underachieving runt who isn’t living up to his potential. I don’t know. It’s hard to listen when you’re playing with a dolphin.

Miss Baha, on the other hand, is apparently the hottest little piece of tuna around. Kemo opens up the gate to the back holding tank and in comes Miss Baha. No, Teddy does not rush over and mack on her. Teddy is a gentleman.

Miss Baha is smaller than Teddy, even though Teddy is the runt (for males, Kemo explains when I ask). Kemo tells me Miss Baha is very pretty. Now, I don’t know much about the attractiveness of dolphins. I wouldn’t know which one to hit on in a dolphin bar. But she’s very smiley and she’s a lighter gray with a stark white tummy. And she makes a lot of high pitch happy noises and clicks. And she likes me too because she comes over, lets me pet her, and hangs out. Awesome! So we like Miss Baha. But unfortunately, Miss Baha is all gaga over Kona, alpha male dolphin and isn’t giving Teddy the time of day. Poor Teddy.

She and Teddy start circling around in the tank as Kemo starts throwing toys in the water: nerf balls, a squishy basketball, and some other floaty type objects. Teddy brings the basketball over to Miss Baha. What a guy!

Kemo apologizes, but it’s time for him to do the sound check. He rolls his eyes and says something about the music selection. He excuses himself into the booth and then the theme from Ferris Bueller's Day Off comes blaring from the speakers all around the arena. You know what I’m talking about, the one where they see the car? Okay, it’s in the Twix commercial too? (Ohhhhhhh yeahhhhhhhhh, chicka chicka). The dolphins are grooving on this music, you can tell. This is their introduction music for some sort of trick they’ll perform later on. It's getting them pumped.

Teddy comes back over, and lets me rub his belly again. “Teddy thinks you’re cute,” Kemo says. “Teddy thinks you’re really cute.” Then I realize that we are not actually talking about Teddy. Unless my breath smells like anchovies (it doesn’t, just the Chunky I had for breakfast, thank you), Teddy is not really the slightest bit interested in me. His heart belongs to Miss Baha, remember?

Anxious to be nice about this, I mumble something about how I’m like Miss Baha, I have a big Kahuna at home (I mean, Aaron is kinda a big Kahuna. Who else brings portable carbombs to New Years, two years in a row? Who else has the audacity to eat food off the T (Besides Becca). And have you seen this kid’s sideburns? Or the way he takes a case apart? Yeah, definitely a big Kahuna). Of course, this sounded more clever in my head and now Kemo is trying to be polite and so am I, but we’re both embarrassed. Playtime with the dolphin is over. I thank him for the tour and promise to come for the show later on (I don’t, what show is possibly gonna top getting to be all up close and personal with dolphins?) But it was nice while it lasted.

On the way out, I stop by the glass tank and snap a few pics of Teddy and Miss Baha. Teddy tries to bring me the basketball. It’s very endearing. And Miss Baha comes over to where I’m standing to. I feel very special like that kid in the Sea World commercial where Shamu comes over to the glass. The top pic is of the tank and behind it you can see where the holding tank was, click on the pic to enlarge it, then look above the Sea Life Park sign and you can see the penguins. Miss Baha is in the next two, happy smiley Miss Baha the heartbreaker, and then last, is Teddy. Go ahead and try and tell me that Teddy does not make you smile. Uh huh, that's what I thought.

At Sea Life Park, they charge you over a 100 dollars to put on a stupid lifejacket and stand in a pool with ten other people to pet a dolphin. For 200, you get to ride one (no joke, check the website, it's called the "Royal Swim"). But somehow I got to play with Teddy and Miss Baha for free. I kinda felt like the cool kid today. Baller!