July 1st, 2002


A little sumthin for the G's

On their way from New Jersey to Atlanta, calamine_tea and her beau Rob spent the night at my place. We went to Chinatown for dinner and a mai tai, and made a few pitchers of Kiwi Strawberry Snapple-enhanced margaritas, shot the shit, played Apples to Apples, and looked over pictures from Hawaii. I noticed that Dale and Rob stopped at the same drive-through arboretum that she and I did on our way to Hana. Drive-thru arboretum, you ask? Well, that brings me right to the tale of this here userpic.

The Road to Hana is a 7 hour, 70-so mile drive along a single lane road that winds up and down mountains, across single lane bridges, and sharp curves that offer absolutely no visibility of the oncoming traffic--one must stop their car and honk their horn to make sure no one else is coming. The "road" to Hana is road in name only: barely paved, barley a car-width wide, carved out of the mountain with the mountainside rock inches from your right side and dropoffs to the ocean inches from your left. And potholes that would make a D.C. resident feel at home. When you rent a car in town, the rental agreements are little more than pieces of paper that say you swear you damn well won't take their car on this road and will suffer exorbitant fines if caught, say, with a flat tire on the Highway.

There are hippie communes along the way, each selling their organically grown fruits and crafts and whatnot. While we were stopped at one of them, a hippie informed us that since they are 4 hours from the nearest town, they do not get trash pickup service. I overheard another one of the hippies complaining to the other that the guy who promised to stop by and ask what she needed from town didn't stop, but rather slowed down and catcalled at her as he sped by, leaving her without cigarettes or vegetables for that night's dinner.

Collapse )
  • Current Mood
    cheerful cheerful

Climate Control

Why do I buy summer clothes? It's always the same 42 degrees in here no matter what. It's gotten to the point where I look forward to going to the bathroom because at least when I wash my hands, they're warm. I hate to type too fast because I don't want to create a breeze around my fingers.
  • Current Mood
    cold cold