by Richard Timothy | Oct 25, 2010 | I Just Don't Get It, I Think There's a Point, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking
After spending a week in Maui, I learned something… ok technically I learned a number of things while I was there. This little nugget of Hawaiian wisdom comes from the realization that if your goal for Hawaii is to have a resort type of island holiday, then they will do their best to charge you for everything they possibly can… including the wind.
I’m sure you’re asking yourself, “But Rich, how can they charge you for the wind?” Well, I’m glad you asked. I was a touch dumbfounded when I heard them say it myself. Ok, so here’s what happened… For the first half of your trip we stayed in the ritzy part of Wailea (pronounced why-lay-a). This area is home to some the bigger high end resorts on the island, like Four Seasons or Grand Wailea, were rooms with a view of the parking lot start at around $400 a night, and if you want a view facing the ocean, well that’s going to cost you.
One of the first evenings there my sweetie-baby-cutie-pie-wifey-pooh and I wandered around looking at the place. As we rounded the corner we came across these adorable little cabanas, i.e. patios with padded wooded lawn chairs under a big umbrella out in the middle of one of their pools. We even went out onto one and enjoyed a few moments laying on them looking out into the blackness beyond the resorts lights were the sound of the ocean kept spitting its S’s like a giant with a lisp trying to say “lisp,” reminding us that it was there, even if we couldn’t see it.
On our third day, decided to spend a fair portion of our afternoon lounging in and around the pools. The first place we headed to was the pool with those cute little cabana areas in the middle of the pool. Out of three possible options, there was one that was not yet taken. I started making my way there, appreciating the fact that we could snag one before any more people arrived. Angela, being a little more aware than I of resort protocol, asked one of the resort employees next to the pool how we would go about reserving one. The employee kindly informed us that we could get one for the entire day for only one hundred dollars.
“What all does that include?” Angela asked.
“It comes with a chilled fruit tray, a pitcher of ice water, and a nice cool natural island breeze that comes up from the ocean.”
Yes really, she included the islands natural breeze into the price. As Angela and I tried to have one of those “Did she just say that?” conversations using only our eyes, the employee leaned in and in a voice that I imagined locals only use to convey some mystical secret about the island, said, “If you rent it after 2PM it’s only fifty dollars.”
Not wanting to be rude, I engaged in the conversation by saying, “Ohhh.”
“I know,” replied employee smiling fanatically.
Angela thanked her and we watched the employee set off toward one of the ‘natural island breeze’ cabanas to deliver a pitcher of ice water to a waiting couple.
“Did she really say that they charge you $100 dollars to enjoy the island breeze?” I asked.
Angela smile, nodded, and decided, “Let’s go to the pool by the bar,” which is where we spent a good portion of our afternoon.
The rest of the time in Maui we would laugh when that $100/day wind would start blowing. Apparently the wind didn’t get the memo that it was only suppose to blow on those people visiting the island that had paid the $100 wind blowing fee for the day.
Ok, one more thing that cracked me up about Hawaii as well, Hershey’s Kisses with macadamia nuts. Yes Hershey’s has teamed up with Mauna Loa to create a Hershey’s Kiss that is stuffed with macadamia nuts. The kicker, you can only buy them in Hawaii. It’s true; these chocolate nutty treats of sugary goodness are made specifically by Hershey’s for the five island state of Hawaii. Mauna Loa ships their macadamia nuts from Hawaii to the states were the Kisses are made. Once the nutty Kiss cools, and is wrapped and packaged, it is shipped back to and only to, Hawaii…
Anyone else find that a little silly, or is it just me?
Image Sources:
Google Images, keywords: Learned, Wailea Marriott, Hawaiian wind, ice water, and Hershey’s kisses with macadamia nuts.
by Richard Timothy | Oct 20, 2010 | I Think There's a Point, Lightbulbs and Soapboxes, My Cutie Baby Sweetie Pie, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Public Service Announcement
Now for the record I need to start off by saying that this research is not based in any type of scientific research I’ve come across, or made up for that matter. In fact not a single dolphin was questioned in the gathering of this research, and by research I mean the short conversation I heard while I was standing in line outside a sushi restaurant in Maui.
The sushi restaurant was in our things to do in Maui book. The place had half price appetizers, sushi rolls, and sake after 10 PM, and karaoke! I have many fond memories of karaoke, not so much me singing, but me enjoying the singing and usually attempted singing of others. This was no different; the best performance of the night was, hands down, an old gray-haired Hawaiian with a cane. He was a largish sized man who chose to sing a song by Smokey Robinson and nailed it. It was amazing that a man that size for hit notes that high. And no, the Smokey-like Hawaiian was not part of the research, but definitely deserves some recognition.
The research happened about 9:50 PM, while standing in line waiting for the doors to open. We were the fifth group in line and shortly after getting there a red convertible pulled up and three youngish kids, i.e. barely old enough to legally drink, got out and got in line behind us (two boys and one girl). I don’t think they were bad people, I just think they had a different set of priorities than my sweetie-baby-cutie-pie-wifey-pooh and I have. As we attempted to talk about our favorite parts of the day and share our excitement about going snorkeling that following morning, this threesome talked in the vibrato of children who are trying to whisper, but haven’t figured out it involves lowering the volume of your speaking voice. Also, their favorite way to begin almost every sentence was with the phrase, “Oh my god.”
Actual example:
Girl to Boy 1: “Oh my god, you look so good in that new shirt.”
Boy 1 to Girl: “Oh my god, really?”
Girl to Boy 1: “Really.”
Boy 1 to Girl: “Oh my god, thanks.”
Boy 1 then announced to everyone in line, while only making eye contact with his friends, that he needed a smoke. So he walked over to his little red convertible (no, sadly it was not a Corvette), opened the trunk, dug through a backpack and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. As he stood next to the trunk of his car and smoked the girl yelled to him, “Oh my god you look so skinny standing next to your car.”
To which he replied, “Oh my god, really?”
Which caused Angela whisper to me, “Why do they have to talk like that?”
“Oh my god, what do you mean?” I whispered back to her.
She hit me.
“Oh my god, ouch!” I said, smiling at her. (It was officially on at that point.)
Now I did not see Boy 1 drop his cigarette on the ground and get back. This was probably due to my threats and taunts of tickles directed toward Angela as she attempted to hit me again. What disrupted this playful exchange was the lady standing in front of. Seconds after Boy 1 got back in line, she walked past us and up to Boy 1, saying, “I just love your car, could I talk to you for a minute?” And she pulled him over to the back of his car for a quick chat.
I’m not sure if it was the acoustics of the parking lot being just so that the conversation carried perfectly to where we were standing, or if it was the fact that she too did not understand the volume differences between a whisper and a normal talking voice, but this is what she said, “Hi, I’m a marine biologist on this island and I know that 95% of all littered cigarettes butts end up in the ocean and are responsible for making dolphins and other life very sick. You need to pick up your cigarette butt and put it in the trash. Thank you so much.” And then back to her place in line without even a “please” or “thank you”.
Boy 1 stood there for a second, looking like he was processing what just happened to him. Then without a word, bent over picked up his cigarette butt, walked it over to the trash can and disposed of it properly. As he walked up to his friends he said, in the quietest his voice had used since we they got there, “I totally understand where she’s coming from.” Then promptly changed the subject.
Angela turned to me with her large eyes full of joy and amazement. “That is the best thing I have seen all day,” adding, “I love that lady!”
A few minutes later we were inside ordering an excessive amount of sushi and giggling at the cigarette incident and then at the tone deaf couple trying to sing some Johnny Cash song and failing at every note.
So what’s the lesson? I guess it’s… well, I mean people are going to smoke if they want to, even if everyone agrees (even smokers) it’s an unhealthy and disgusting addiction. No, I think the point is, throw your cigarette butts in the trash. Because every time you drop a cigarette butt on the ground, a baby dolphin bursts into flames… too much? Ok fine, every time you drop a cigarette butt on the ground, a dolphin has a chance of becoming addicted too. And you can get into a lot of trouble trying to feed Nicorette to dolphins… ahem, I mean, so I’ve heard (whistles innocently). Seriously, if you smoke don’t litter. Actually, just don’t litter period. The dolphins say thanks (yes, for not littering AND for all the fish).
Any no-littering stories you’d care to share?
Image Sources:
Google Images, keywords: dolphins, standing in line, oh my god, cigarette litter, sick dolphin and litter free planet.
by Richard Timothy | Oct 18, 2010 | I Think There's a Point, My Cutie Baby Sweetie Pie, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking
I noticed something this past weekend as I got up and sleepily moseyed into the bathroom, which has always been my movement speed of choice when I get up in the morning and move that short distance from my bed to the bathroom. Granted, there are times when moving faster than a mosey (after you just wake up) are required. Morning sickness for example, and I mean all sicknesses that happen in the morning that is accompanied by that sudden urge to draining the contents of your stomach in a manner that avoids your intestines all together.
So what was different about Saturday morning? My stuff was missing. Stuff like, my tooth brush, dental floss, stick of deodorant, and my razor. I also noticed that the one of the two drawer units we had on our counter was gone, the one that all my bathroom items were stored on. Thus began my early morning bathroom treasure hunt… well, not that I was looking for a bathroom, I had already found that. What I needed to find was my toothbrush. Some mornings I wake up with a mouth that feels like it has been marinating in a zombies nether region, and I’m sure smells about the same. Brushing my teeth in the morning is essential to my daily bad breath exorcism.
Still, having just woken up, doing a treasure hunt for your toothbrush in the confines of a smallish bathroom goes a bit slower than I would have expected. Eventually, I discovered my supplies had migrated to the top drawer of the remaining drawer set. I’m glad I found it when I did otherwise the sacrilege of my using my sweetie-baby-cutie-pie-wifey-pooh’s toothbrush without her knowledge was about to become a reality. I’m not going to say that I would ever do that, but there have been a few times over the last eight years that I have been questioned as to why her toothbrush bristles were damp to the touch even though she had not yet used it that morning. (Hey, if I didn’t tell her, you think I’d tell you?)
After our day was in full groove I told Angela about my early morning bathroom adventure, she said, “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, I moved all of your stuff into that drawer.”
“So what you’re telling me is that after three years being in this house I finally have my own bathroom drawer?”
She started laughing, “Actually it’s not all yours, the back of it has a few of my… well it’s two-thirds your drawer.”
“So what… when we hit the five year mark in this house I’ll finally get my own bathroom drawer?” I asked.
“I don’t think we’ll still be in this house by then.”
“So will I have so start over when we move into a new place?” I smiled.
She laughed some more and then said, “You’re going to blog about this aren’t you?
And I think we all know that the answer is to that.
It did get me thinking about the whole ‘hers, mine, ours’ paradigm in relations though. Here’s an example… our house. The house is ours. However, my office is strictly mine, mainly because it’s the only room in the house I’m allowed to decorate. The rest of the house is hers in regards to how it looks and thanks (insert deity of your choice here) for that.
She does have her office, and her studio, and her storage space, which is our storage space, but because it is full of mostly her storage she gets dibs and title ownership. We even call it ‘her storage room’ (or ‘my storage room’ if she is asking me to put something down there). The other storage room is ours, but is where most of my storage hangs out. Oddly though we don’t call it ‘his storage room’, it’s just the ‘dry storage room’.
The garage is just like our bed… yeah that needs a little explaining doesn’t it? See, she has her side and I have my side. Now I don’t know if anyone else is like this, but it’s the same side for both. She sleeps on the left side of the bed and parks in the left side of the garage. No idea if this is normal? But it does strike me as something worth smiling about.
The television room is usually ours, unless The Apprentice, Gray’s Anatomy, or one of those Wedding/Wedding Dress themed shows are on. Then the room and television and our insane collection of remotes is hers… Seriously, we now have six different remotes that litter our couch and yes we use all of them at some point depending if we are streaming movies, watching cable, or watching DVDs. Yes, I know, we have a problem and someday I hope we are in a position that we can let some of them be free and enjoy a life of independence.
Likewise, I too have my movies that encourage Angela to keep clear of the television room until I’m done. MST3K is the main one. She either has to be very drunk or sleeping on the couch with her head resting on me as I run my fingers through her hair. Yeah if she’s unconscious, I can always get away with watching an episode with her. Sometimes it’s what you have to do so you can spend time with two things that you love… even if one of the loves hates the other loved, which doesn’t have an opinion on the matter because it’s a television show. It works well for us anyway.
What are some of thoughts?
Image Sources:
Google Images, keywords: man waking up, bad breath, bathroom drawer, storage room, and head in lap.
by Richard Timothy | Oct 14, 2010 | Gratefully Grateful, Horribly Horrible, I Think There's a Point, Lightbulbs and Soapboxes, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking
My sweetie-baby-cutie-pie-wifey-pooh and I have a system for packing for trips. This system is fairly common practice for people that have attended, are attending, or may attend the ‘Last Minute School of Preparation’. Although for the record, we did not pack last minute for our Hawaii trip… we packed three minutes prior to last minute. I always look at last minute as, well, just that. The fact that Angela and I got to take a two hour nap before driving to the airport I feel shows you our proficiency at packing just before the last minute.
There are a few things that acting, or in our case packing, last minute enables you to experience. Here are a few of my personal favorites:
- The a fore mentioned two hour nap. I’m a fan of naps, and even though I will most likely be sleeping on the plane to whatever destination a waits, starting a flight with a nap that is just long enough to leave me sleepy is a nice preparatory event before I begin my on plane nap.
- No double-checking your luggage before leaving. It means that I will always have the Goonies adventure quality about my trip. Because I don’t have time to double-check my bags there is no telling if I remembered everything and it isn’t until I’m in the middle of a hotel room in a new city, country, planet, etc. were I discover if I am going to need to get creative about doing my hair because I forgot a brush, or that I need to get out into my new environment to experience my new surroundings and find a store that sells what I forgot. (I only used a plastic fork to comb my hair for the first day. When Angela caught me using it, she made us go to a store to buy a small cheap brush for the trip.)
- The giggles. In my experience it is inevitable that, at some point in the late night hours when I am tired and wanting to go to sleep but am still packing, I hit that loopy stage where everything is so much funnier than it would have been had I actually gotten some sleep. I’ve never felt bad about an uncontrollable giggle fit and packing three minutes to ‘last minute’ is always good for at least one of those… sometimes more.
The flight to Hawaii was in two parts. The first flight went to Phoenix Arizona. I slept through the whole thing. I attempted the nodding off routine of falling asleep in an upright sitting position, but when my head dropped down for the first nod it didn’t come back up until an hour later when the captain announced that we had begun our decent to Phoenix. It was grand. The flight from Phoenix to Maui on the other hand was a flyway to hell (feel free to sing that in your best AC/DC voice).
You know that feeling when you get an ice cream cone filled with two scoops of your favorite flavors and just as you step out of the store, even before you have taken a single lick, your hands fumble and you watch in Hollywood slow motion as your treat of creamy goodness falls to the ground to become completely inedible crushing your dreams that there is anything good in this world? Yeah, well I had that exact same feeling when I walked onto the airplane and saw two of the three seats in front of me being occupied by little kids. The mother sitting in the middle seat separating the two children is what gave me a false sense of hope that maybe it wasn’t going to be ‘that bad’. Damn you ‘false sense of hope’ and your deceitful ways.
The sperm donor, I mean father, was in the chair across the aisle. Actually scratch that, he was a donor because during the six plus hours on the flight I saw him do zero in regards to being a father. In fact I would give him negative points because at only one point during the flight did he remove his headphones and stopped watching movies on his iPad. It was during this iPad break that his wife actually told him, “I need some help. I am asking you to help me.” His response to this was to put his head phones back on and ignore her and the kids with even more vigor than he had done before.
The little boy was by far the more horrid of the two evils, er kids, mainly because he would not shut the hell up. Seriously, for the entire flight he did not stop talking once. And the extent of the mother’s parental ability was to remain sitting in her seat and say “shhhhh” repeatedly and then ignore the kids. At one point the little monster had to go to the toilet. He did this by announcing to the entire plane that he had to poop. Then, because there was a line to get to the toilet, he spent five minutes waiting for his turn standing in the aisle announcing that he needed to poop. He even informed the mother at one point that he was just going to poop in the aisle. The mother had the insight to hold on to his hand while they waited in line after his started to undo his belt after the pooping in the aisle comment.
You know, I miss the days when parents would beat their children. Not with the excitable vigor of Rocky Balboa taking on the USSR, but a nice heartfelt smack on the rump when the kids were being little shi… fecal matters. I mean I know it’s the parents fault, but perhaps if the parents had been beaten as children then they would have not grown up to be such worthless parents themselves. Besides, let’s say a kid throws a fit on a plane and is making the plane ride a horrific experience for everyone on the plane, I think that spanking the child in front of all of those people would be a nice way to publically apologize to everyone on that plane for your failure as a parent and your child’s lack of behavior. I know I’d appreciate seeing the little bastard getting a quick smack on the butt. I’d probably even say thank you.
Now even though I’m a reverend I’m not the type of person to bless people. However, if I thought it would do any good I would bless this family with infertility, sterility, barrenness, and unfruitfulness … and a lifetime of failures in the adoption department. I mean sure let them have a long full life and die of natural causes, but family lines go extinct all the time; I just happen to be of the opinion that this family is one that deserves be part of the family line extinction.
However, there was one positive thing that happened from all of this, the sheer nirvana I felt getting off of that plane and away from that family. Sometimes it’s the little things you have to take with you and that one lasted the entire time I was in Maui. Hell, it even got me through the two and a half hour delay and entire plane ride home.
What are your thoughts on the topic of bad kids and worse parents?
Image Sources:
Google Images, keywords: last minute, unpacking suitcase, bad kids on plane, depressed, bad parents, and happy day.
by Richard Timothy | Sep 27, 2010 | Fiction, I Think There's a Point, Observationally Speaking, Something I Know Nothing About, Visual Smirk
The amazing thing about releasing a creation to the world is that one it is released, it becomes it’s very own force, which is something to be dealt with. The thing is one you put it out there it is out of your hands, and regardless of how much you want to keep hold of it and keep it pure, there is going to be someone out there with a little too much free time on their hands that is going to bastardize the whole thing. This has happened repetitively throughout the ages.
There is one, however, that I feel compelled to share. And it’s thanks to Facebook and the ongoing experience of meeting new people and seeing new profile pictures that makes me smile and want to share some of these unsolicited and experiments that were birthed by the creation that is Star Wars.
I mean sure I could make a comment that Lucas has done more to bastardize and destroy the magic that was the original concept and creation, but that would be a little too easy. So instead I give you a few Facebookian Star Wars themed profile pictures that I feel deserve a little personal insight as well as a gratitude filled nod to whoever created these Smirk inducing images:
Jedi Squirrels
The force has never been so cute and so dangerous at the same time. This is a result of Yoda getting bored waiting for Luke to show up on Dagobah for his Jedi training montage. The squirrels used the force to escape Dagobah to find a nice park on a populated planet where they could do Jedi battle reenactments for, well, nuts. To me, the only comparison that gets close to this trio is a squadron… is that right? Or is it a flock, or posse, or troop… flank!… whatever the word is the rest of it is… ninja bunnies! I mean what is a better or more perfect blend of adorable and deadly at the same time.
Gentleman Fett
Bobo Fett dressed up in a Victorian suit. There is something inherently smileful about a gentleman bounty hunter. This image was taken after Han was frozen and Bobo had some extra cash after delivering him to the Hutt. He opted to go on holiday. As he was traveling around he found a rustic little western town that had one of those old timey photo studios where he went in to play dressed up, and found some cloths from an almost forgotten era just to get his picture taken. I don’t know about you, but there is something about Bobo playing dress up always gets me laughing.
Princess Vader
Speaking of playing dress up, here’s what happened when young Leia discovered who her real father was. I can only imagine the inner dialogue that created this for her costume themed 5th birthday party. “Should I be a princess, or my dad… princess… dad? Hmmm… I know! Both!” A pink Darth Vader mask with a tiara, I know Darth wanted to rule the Empire with his son Luke, but had he just skipped that battle and approached the daddy’s girl who knows what direction the empire would have gone once the Emperor was out of the way.
President Chewbacca
It was a close race, but it happened, Chewie ran for office and won. And even though he was the first Wookiee to be elected to reside over the senate after the Emperor fell, he took the task very seriously. This included the first pitch of the season, not bad form either for considering Wookiee’s are not big baseball fans. They are not terribly fond of sports that require you to catch things in your hand instead of your mouth. It’s an instinct that goes back to their canine ancestors. And who would have expected him and Leia to hook up after things failed with Han. I always thought Chewy had more of a crush on Han than Leia, who knew. Han was still a trooper about the whole thing and was the best man at the wedding. Leia also made a very capable first lady due to all that political training she received when she was a kid.
And finally… a bit of (made up) Star Wars Trivia…
How Carrie Fisher Got the Role as Leia
According to my sources (that are completely fictitious) this photo was taken at some StWa-Con (a made up comic book/sci fi convention) where a reenactment was performed to convey how Lucas decided who was going to play the the role of Princess Leia… the winner of the pillow fight would don the Princess Leia mantel. This battle lasted at three days, and Lucas sat in his director’s chair for the entire duration until Fisher emerged victorious. (She might be little, but she can hold her own. Just ask Jabba.)
Well there you have it, some of my favorite random Star Wars themed images from random Facebook profile pictures and the completely bogus stories and made-up commentaries that go with them.
What are your thoughts?
Image Sources:
Taken from random Facebook profile images.
by Richard Timothy | Sep 24, 2010 | Borrowed Smirk, I Think There's a Point, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking
My cutie-baby-sweetie-pie-wifey-pooh’s best friend conveyed this story to me, since she were there when it happened. She is related to the senior who was denied her senior discount at a local eatery that just so happens to be a franchise of international claim, but I only think they exist in the US… maybe Canada and Mexico, but that’s it. To avoid naming names I’ll just simply say that this place spends a lot of its time focusing on cakes of the pan variety and have an affinity for that jumping action that bunnies seem to be so proficient at.
Sadie (the senior) was in sitting in the back seat feeling a bit peckish, in the way a bear might feel peckish after a six month nap. As they were driving down the road she noticed a big sign on the side of the before mentioned restaurant that said, “Early Bird Senior Discount – 50% off!”
Sadie realizing that she was the only one in the car that this sign applied to, had a moment of charity that was driven by her ever growing urge to eat something as soon as possible. She told the driver to go to the restaurant and that she would be taking care of the bill for everyone. Like most people I know, have known, will know, and will never meet, but if we did they would also be of the disposition that when free food is interjected into the conversation there is a high probability that the people that are presented with this type of offer are going to take you up on it. The people in the car with Sadie were no different, and soon everyone was out of the car and sitting in a booth inside the restaurant.
“Order whatever you want I am going to get a stellar discount,” she told everyone at the table. Then, as the waiter approached the table, she informed him that she would be picking up the entire check. As they ate Sadie expressed how excited she at the new year and how excited she was at being a year older so that she could finally get all the senior discount at movies, restaurants, museums, and everywhere else that offered them. After everyone had sufficiently stuffed themselves with eggs, bacon, waffles, and whatever else people eat when they decided to have breakfast for dinner, the bill arrived.
As Sadie looked over the bill she noticed that they had not given her the senior discount and called the waiter over. She pulled out senior ID card and handed it to the waiter, “I forgot to show you this so I can get my discount.”
The waiter looked at the card, and then looked at her, and then back at the card. “But you’re like seventeen?”
“Yeah, but I’m a senior see my ID card.”
“It’s for your high school.”
“Yeah, but I’m a senior.”
The waiter blinked. Then a little baffled that he had to explain it, said slowly, “The discount if for senior citizens, not high school seniors.”
The table started to shake as everyone sitting down tried suppress their laughter.
“But your sign outside doesn’t say that!” Sadie demanded.
“I’m sorry miss, but the discount is only for senior citizens.” And he walked away from the table.
By now the table was a roar of laughter. Everyone except Sadie, that is. She was trying to find supporters to her cause, claiming that it was false advertising. But that only got everyone laughing again, mainly because she was so serious about it. Her mother then explained to her that all of the senior discounts she had been looking forward to were, in fact, only for people age 65 and above. None of them applied to seniors in high school.
Sadie was a little deflated by this realization, but to help her feel better about the little misunderstanding, her parents offered to buy her dinner instead of the original plan, which, as I stated before is not the type of offer people seem willing to turn down. She got over it eventually. However, her mother did tell us that if you ever bring up the phrase ‘senior discount’ in Sadie’s presence, she almost always blurts out in a type of Tourettes inspired uncontrollability, “False Advertising.”
I even tried it once when we were over at their house while Sadie was there… her mom was not kidding.
All in all, I thought it was a grand story and now, every time I pass one of pancake restaurants I always find a smile has landed on my lips, as I think about the senior who was denied her senior discount for being the wrong kind of senior.
Do you have any ‘lost in translation’ stories? I’d love to hear them.
Image Sources:
Google Images, keywords: senior discount, breakfast, argue, and woman cursing.
After spending a week in Maui, I learned something… ok technically I learned a number of things while I was there. This little nugget of Hawaiian wisdom comes from the realization that if your goal for Hawaii is to have a resort type of island holiday, then they will do their best to charge you for everything they possibly can… including the wind.
On our third day, decided to spend a fair portion of our afternoon lounging in and around the pools. The first place we headed to was the pool with those cute little cabana areas in the middle of the pool. Out of three possible options, there was one that was not yet taken. I started making my way there, appreciating the fact that we could snag one before any more people arrived. Angela, being a little more aware than I of resort protocol, asked one of the resort employees next to the pool how we would go about reserving one. The employee kindly informed us that we could get one for the entire day for only one hundred dollars.
Ok, one more thing that cracked me up about Hawaii as well, Hershey’s Kisses with macadamia nuts. Yes Hershey’s has teamed up with Mauna Loa to create a Hershey’s Kiss that is stuffed with macadamia nuts. The kicker, you can only buy them in Hawaii. It’s true; these chocolate nutty treats of sugary goodness are made specifically by Hershey’s for the five island state of Hawaii. Mauna Loa ships their macadamia nuts from Hawaii to the states were the Kisses are made. Once the nutty Kiss cools, and is wrapped and packaged, it is shipped back to and only to, Hawaii… 
