It had been six years since I left my home. I had packed up and left my wild and wicked ways behind me. The town of Makawao on the Hawaiian island of Maui would be a much safer place…or would it? I had left the country life for the big city. I had to get away. I had to escape the madness of small town, strung out druggies, ignorant hicks, small minded, but big mouthed people. These people are everywhere, don’t get me wrong. I love my hometown, but the time had come for me to move on, or to be stuck there for the rest of my life. Anyway, it was time for me to revisit the past people and places who made me who I am today. (Now that’s a scary thought.)
I decided to take the new and controversial Hawaii Superferry, which shuttles people, vehicles, and commerce. This 85 million dollar catamaran, the size of a three decked football field is 340 ft. long and 80 ft. wide. It’s capable of hauling 900 passengers and 250 vehicles inter-island within 3-5 hrs. This Trojan horse is sponsored in part by the Federal Government. While masquerading as another means of inter-island travel, the Superferry also transports Military personnel and equipment such as the new Stryker Tanks for blowing shit up and killing people. What they’re doing in Hawaii I have no idea…well, I do, but that’s another
story.
The company that owns the Superferry works hand in hand with State and Federal agencies to keep control and regulations of its slaves…I mean its citizens. The opening of the Hawaii Superferry caused quite a stir last year in 2007. Hawaiian citizens questioned the way the ferry was allowed to operate without the proper legalities, and to bypass laws such as environmental impact studies and research on how the Superferry would affect all ocean life, as well as the endangered Humpback Whales that migrate here each year.
I felt like a sellout while I contemplated booking a trip to Maui on the ferry. I needed to get there somehow and I hate planes. Nightmares of being in a plane crash don’t help, besides I could take my truck and I wouldn’t need to rent a car. If anything, it would be convenient. I logged onto the Hawaii Superferry website and booked a ride, round trip. The total came out to $232.21, not bad considering the cost of a plane ticket and the amount of days I’d have to rent a car for. It was the alternate “better deal” so to speak. I printed up the receipt, confirmation number, and the details for pre-boarding. They wanted all passengers there 90 minutes prior to departure time. The ferry would be leaving at 6:30 a.m. I’d have to be there at 5:00 a.m. for check-in and other formalities.
It was already 11:45 p.m. I’d have to be there in five hours. I decided to stay up ’til then. A bunch of mixed emotions filled my skull, it had been a long time since I’d been back home. How would I handle it? The sight of old enemies, past arguments, and differences, all these thoughts raced through my head. I was older and wiser, time had mellowed me out…hopefully. I packed my huge red and black travel bag with wheels that I got a few years ago when I won a trip to the Marlboro Ranch in Montana. I smoked a joint, watched some recorded episodes of N.Y.P.D. Blue on my DVR, took a shower, checked my email, said my good-byes on Myspace and headed out the door at 4:20 a.m. for Honolulu Harbor.
I pulled up to the pier at the Superferry terminal. Employees with flashlights guided me through the maze of bright orange cones and lanes divided by white paint. I was greeted by a short, good looking Hawaiian girl in her mid-twenties. She wore a khaki uniform, with a name tag. She looked official in a militaristic sort of way.
“Good morning. Can I have your confirmation number, driver’s license, registration, and insurance card please.”
“Sure,” I said, as I handed her my paperwork and documents.
Two other employees made their way to my truck, they were dressed similar to the girl I was dealing with, except they wore those orange reflective road vests. The older woman carried a flashlight and the guy had one of those round mirrors on wheels for looking at the under-carriage of vehicles. The girl I was talking to asked me to pop my hood. The woman with the flashlight looked under my hood, while the dude with the mirror on wheels checked my under-carriage. It must of took them a minute. They didn’t even ask to look in my toolbox mounted in the back of my truck.
“Thank you. Please pull up in lane five until given further instruction for boarding,” she said as she handed back my papers.
“Thanks,” I replied, as I drove on ahead into lane five where I turned my truck off and started reading “Atlantis Was America: Tampa Was The Royal City” a book I bought a couple weeks ago at the Third Annual Hawaii Book & Music Festival. At about 5:50 a.m. they started to let us board. I followed the car in front of me. They had employees stationed about every 100 ft. or so, guiding us up each ramp and each deck of the Superferry. Coast Guard personnel now directed us where to park. I noticed that they tried not to appear too official. Their uniforms were plain, but I could tell by their identification that they were Coasties. I myself was in the Coast Guard, and I can spot a military man by the way he walks and talks.
“Please lock your cars and proceed to the stairway and up to the top deck,” This was all they would say. Once aboard the ferry and out of my truck, the place turned into a mad house. People and cars ran a muck in the bowels of the ship, people squeezed through the narrow spaces of cars and trucks parked side by side and packed like sardines in a can. “Someone’s gonna get run over and killed around here,” I said. It seemed like chaos way too early in the morning. I locked my truck and headed for the stairway.
I made my way up the steps and handed my boarding ticket to the kid at the door. I was impressed once I entered the passenger deck. It was beautiful, like the lobby of a hotel. More roomy than an airplane and less claustrophobic. There were three or four mini-bars located throughout the deck. They sold food, snacks, beer, coffee, and water. They even have a gift shop, an arcade with video games, a first class section, a restaurant, movies, computers, and more. I wished there was gambling, it would be just like Vegas.
At 6:30 a.m. we were underway. As we left the pier the city lights got farther and farther away. I stepped outside to get a glance of Honolulu as we got miles away from the island. The fresh sea breeze invigorated me. I stood against the railing on the outer deck and I thought about my younger days in the Coast Guard, who I was back then and who I am now. I thought about my childhood on Maui. Growing up in a small town, the shit I did and got caught for. The shit I did and didn’t get caught for. In the end it all evens out I guess.
I went back inside, found a seat, and reclined. I tried to sleep. I drifted in and out of consciousness for about an hour. I awoke feeling nauseous, we had hit some rough water. Staying up all night, not eating, and too much coffee, along with the rocking of the ferry was getting to me. I was starting to sweat. I made my way to the bathroom like a drunk man. Swaying around and trying to keep my balance made me feel even more ill. I thought I was going to puke. I went to the bathroom, washed my face with cold water and went back to my seat. I just sat there and meditated. I felt a little better.
Just in time a voice came over the ships PA system. “We will be pulling into Kahului Harbor in ten minutes, please make your way to your vehicles and await further instructions.” I made my way to my truck. Standing made me feel even more sick. I got in my truck and waited another 30 minutes to drive off. I had started feeling better. They pulled into port and let us off. I drove to the far end of the pier which we call breakwater point. I rolled and smoked a joint. Then I drove Upcountry, to my hometown of Makawao.
After five days of vacationing it was time to say my good-byes and to head home to Honolulu. It had been a good trip, too much to talk about. Nothing that that would really interest anyone except me probably. My dad had given me a bunch of frozen food and local delicacies like smoked pork, homemade sausage, New York steaks, and Opihis (pronounced O-P-HES). Which were all frozen, wrapped in newspaper, and taped. I had three coolers of frozen meats and a small bag of Opihis probably a quart of them once I took them out of the shell. Opihis are a seafood, a crustacean much like oysters, clams, and mussels. Being an island delicacy they are quit expensive, about $150 a gallon. It’s a staple of Traditional Hawaiian food, and served at Luaus.
I pulled into the entrance of the Superferry dock. An employee directed me to drive in lane three and proceed to the end of the lane. I was greeted by another ferry employee who held a walkie talkie. Up ahead about 50ft. was a checkpoint with ten or more police officers, they were searching through a car and a truck they had pulled over to the side of the painted lanes. The drivers and passengers of the two vehicles stood next to their automobiles while the police went through their belongings. I guess they fit the profile of criminals with their fancy car and lifted 4×4 truck. Someone spoke over the two way radio of the ferry worker that was dealing with me, some kind of numbered code. I was told to bypass the first police checkpoint and to proceed to the second checkpoint.(I guess I don’t look like a drug smuggler.)
They must have seen my three coolers in the passenger seat stacked in the cab of my truck next to me. I would soon learn that the second checkpoint was where the Department of Land and Natural Resources did their search and questioning. I followed the directions of the worker with the walkie talkie and drove ahead to the second checkpoint where I was greeted by another ferry worker.
“Confirmation number, drivers license, registration, and insurance card please,” said the employee. I handed him my papers. He gave them a look over and handed them back to me.
“Do you have anything to declare? Any plants, leaves, grass or seeds?” he asked.
“No.”
“Any guns or knives in your vehicle?” he said.
“I have knives behind my seat.”
“You’ll have to lock them up in your toolbox.”
“No problem,” I replied.
“Do you have any crab, lobster, shrimp, clams, oysters, opihis, or fish you are transporting?” he asked.
“I’ve got a bag of opihis,” I told him.
“You’ll have to remove them from your vehicle, we need to take a look at them,” he told me. “Crustaceans and seafood are not allowed on the ferry, please step out of your truck and remove them,” he continued. Suddenly I felt my blood pressure rise. He motioned one of the game wardens over to my truck. There were about five of them, all dressed in blue with their guns and badges, clipboards in hand. They were walking around the cars and trucks at this checkpoint eyeing people up through their mirrored sunglasses, especially me. I got out of my truck and walked to the passenger side. I opened the door and began going through my coolers looking for the bag of opihis. I had wrapped each bag in newspaper and taped it shut. I had to rip each package to see what was under the newspaper. Now I was pissed.
“What’s the world coming to? We live in Hawaii and I can’t even take a small bag of opihis over to the next island? They call this a free country? It seems I’m free to do as I am told. What kind of ridiculous law is this anyway?” I ranted. The last package I ripped was the opihis. I threw them at the feet of the game warden. All this time the game warden just stood there and never said a word. He himself was a local islander, and I could tell he knew I spoke the truth. He picked up the bag and walked over to a makeshift tent. “Make sure to get pictures, weigh and measure them too,” I heard another game warden say.
“This is the last time I ride this goddamn boat,” I yelled.
“Sir, please get in your truck and pull ahead to the side of the loading ramp,” I was told by the ferry worker. I did what he said and waited in my truck while they interrogated my bag of opihis. After about fifteen minutes the game warden approached me at my truck window.
“Where’d you get those opihis?” he asked.
“My dad gave them to me,” I replied.
“You can’t take them on the Superferry, it’s not allowed. Count your blessings. You could have been arrested if we found any that were not the legal size,” said the game warden.
“You know something, this is not the same world I was born into,” I told him as I shook my head in disgust..
“That’s how it is nowadays, you’re free to go,” he said as he motioned me to drive up the ramp and onto the loading dock. I pulled up to the parking area where everyone sat in their cars and waited to board.
“That’s how it is nowadays,” I said as I sat there. These motherfuckers I thought to myself. They’re either part of the solution, or a part of the problem. It just goes to show what’s wrong with government and our world today. I reached in my little black bag and pulled out one of my pill bottles. I found my sedatives and popped one. I picked up my cell phone and called my buddy Jack, who works at Hickam Air Force Base for the Department of Defense.
“Hello,” Jack answered his phone.
“Jack, these fucking fascists stoled my opihis. What the fuck? These fucking Nazis have us over a barrel and are going to town on us. I could have been arrested,” I yelled.
“What happened?” Jack replied.
“They confiscated my opihis. I think those opihis are wanted by the Department of Homeland Security for alleged ties to Al Qaeda. They’re probably on a plane to Guantanamo Bay at this moment,” I said.
The driver of the van parked in front of me kept looking at me as I continued ranting on the phone. I noticed he had Arizona plates. I guess he didn’t like my tone of voice or my conversation. Soon enough he stepped out of his van with a laptop computer in hand. There was some kind of emblem on the computer, some sort of a sticker. I should have known by the looks of this dude that he was a cop. The sticker on his laptop was a badge. Great, I thought. I’m surrounded by the Gestapo.
“Jack, I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you when I get back,” I told him.
“O.K. bye,” he said, and hung up. I figured I’d better settle down. I had enough close calls for one day, plus the sedative was kicking in. About twenty minutes later we were allowed to board the ferry. I drove on, locked my truck and left my knives behind the seat. With all the excitement of contraband opihis, harbor officials had forgotten about the knives I told them about. I guess opihis are way more dangerous than knives, it seems their priority was seafood instead of weapons.
I headed for the stairway and made my way to the passenger deck. I went straight to the bar and ordered a beer, then two more, one after the other. We were back in Honolulu Harbor in about three hours. I got in my truck, drove off the ferry and out of the pier area onto the freeway. I lifted the leg of my pants up over my cowboy boot and pulled out a half ounce of Maui Wowie. I had a joint already rolled in the bag, I took it out and lit up.
Only in America, I thought. Where freedom means not getting caught. What the hell. I’m just another slave of indentured servitude, but a stoned and rebellious one at that. Shit, I could have been a pirate..