This Lane Is Your Lane, This Lane Is My Lane

He and She were driving down scenic roads (the signs said so) on Hawai‘i Island, He in search of plants to study, She in search of plants to photograph. Part of what made these roads so scenic was their profusion of diamond-shaped yellow signs, most of them announcing that They were approaching a “One Lane Road” or “One Lane Bridge”:

He: “Does scenery always have to be so narrow-minded?”

She: “Narrow-sided, anyway. I guess.”

He: “Whatever. But if they’re going to have all these one lanes, they may as well name ’em. Like – geez Louise what a squeeze – this one.”

He and She together:Lois!

He: “Now that, love, was super.”

She: “But of course, dear. Nathan!”

He: “Fast!”

She: “On this road? Are you kidding? Slow, if ever there was one.”

He: “How ’bout a sloe gin? This keeps up, I might need one.”

She: “Stay thirsty. Bryant!”

He: “Bryant Lane? I know a Bryant Gumbel …”

She: “Lane Bryant.”

He: “Uh uh. I am not going to try to drive backwards on this road, any more than I’m going to find a fancy clothing store on this skinny trail through the woods.”

She: “Chicken.”

He: “BucbucbucbuDAAAK!”

She: “P!”

He:Now?!?

She: “Not that! Just P.”

He: “P lane …? Oh good grief! That’s a Lane Violation if ever I heard one!”

She: “So you’re going on strike?”

He: “No, I’m going to strike!”

She: “What? Where?”

He: “On my Ten-pin Lane!”

She: “Right. You’re just trying to bowl me over, aren’t you?”

On Vacation in Kailua-Kona

Amoeba and the Quill are in Kailua-Kona on the Big Island. He gets to work everyday in a laboratory with his algae specimens and a microscope. She is having to enjoy the beaches, shoreline drives, and beautiful scenery. I know it seems unfair, but she is making do.

Kailua Bay

Humpy's Big Island Ale House

They went out to dinner the other night and walked back to the condo together along Ali’i Drive. She took a couple of photos of the sunset.

Cooked!

He: “So I’m standing here trying to fix dinner …”

She: “Fix dinner? I didn’t know it was broken.”

He: “Right. How ’bout you give me a break?”

She: “Where?”

He: “Um .. as I was saying. I get a saucepan, open the box, pour the contents of the box into the saucepan, add water … and now the box tells me to stir thoroughly.” Where do I find this thoroughly thingy?”

She: “No clue. I’ve been looking for years. Never found one. Carry on without it. You’ll probably do fine.”

He: “OK, I … dang it!!

She: “What?”

He: “The blamed instructions tell me to bring to boil. No way! I ain’t bringin’ nothin’ noplace! Even if I knew where to find boil any more than I know where to find the thoroughly. That saucepan is on the stove where it belongs, and it’s stayin’ there until it’s done!”

She: “[Sigh] Relax, love. Boil figured out this flaw in the instructions a long time ago. Leave the pan on the stove. Turn on the burner. The boil will come to you. Trust me on this.”

He: “OK. I guess I’ll just keep cookin’.”

She:No!

He:What ‘no’?? You want me to try to put this wet, slimy stuff back in the box? And go hungry??

She: “I want you to cook your dinner. Not you! Are you wearing your suntan lotion?”

He: “In the kitchen?!

She: “In Hawai‘i. Where you’re broiling under the hot sun!”

He: “Not in the kitchen two hours after sunset, I’m not.”

She:Phew! For once, I get a break!

He: “Where?”

Counter Fable

He: ” … and I did some sampling at the floor of the Pololu Valley, right about here. It was quite the hike to get down that cliff face, I’ll tell you.”

She: “Lovely. Can you come home now?”

He: “Love to. After they give me what I need to pay the rent.”

She:Sigh. I know. That makes sense, but …”

He: “I am not making cents!”

She: “Um … tell me something I don’t already …?”

He: “Absolutely not. That would be counterfeiting!

She: “And when did you start having this thing about carpentry?”

He: “Carpentry?”

She: “If you’re doing finish work, you want the counter to fit, don’t you? If it’s too big, it sticks out; if it’s too small, stuff falls in the cracks. Either way, the customer complains.”

He: “Oh. That. That’s how the breakfast bar got invented.”

She: “It is?

He: “Of course it is. ‘Dang it, boss, whoever drew these plans was clueless. This counter design don’t fit noplace!‘ ‘Relax, cuz. Just stick it out in the middle of the kitchen and throw a few high stools around it. They’ll never know.'”

The Hoofprints of Paradise

It was after sundown. Darkness falls quickly on the Hawaiian Islands after sundown. I was walking down a beachfront road in Kailua-Kona, on the western shore of Hawai‘i Island, when out of the darkness a drunk called out.

“Do you know God?”

“Do you know Jesus?”

“Or”, as I kept on walking, “are you just vindictive?

I walked on, reflecting on the true tales of living on the Hawaiian Islands for which “vindictive” is one of the milder words, tales which I myself had lived, and I heard him laugh. A crazy laugh, high-pitched, hysterical.

And I thought that I had never heard a more apt description of life in the 50th state.

This is Hawai‘i. Of course it’s hot here. Welcome to Hell.