I only had three months to prepare to leave. That is my excuse. How else can I explain how I managed to leave just about everything important to absolutely the last minute?
Or perhaps I could take the moral high ground (shades of Jack Nicholson in ‘A Few Good Men’ – is the title implicitly saying that Demi Moore was not good?) and argue that I don’t need to explain anything about my behaviour. Much better.
So, after about an hours sleep, many hours spent organising all the things I should have organised long before, and an hour or so of packing my bags, I set off to the airport. Very uneventful plane ride. Many tedious films. Many drunken Australians too. A bit of local colour, I guess. It helps that they were going to the same Ultimate tournament as me.
So, textbook landing in Hawaii. And what greets us but a queue? A long one even. And in the middle of the night. Hawaii must be popular. The weather might be one reason, I guess. And the friendliness of the immigration staff (even if he didn’t really listen to my side of the conversation).
The five of us kiwis (I was travelling with some friends) hit the hostel and the beach, in that order. Into the list of strange local stuff goes the sighting of the man grooming the beach (like mowing the lawn I guess, but differenct). I mean, you wouldn’t want the patrons on Waikiki Beach to have to sit on roughed-up sand in the morning now, would you? Scary really.
On Friday morning (happy birthday again Dave) we set off to Waimanalo (for the Ultimate), pitched the tents (in what quickly became called ‘Tent City’, for pretty obvious reasons), and hit the opening night party. 450 players. Food, beer, big marquee and party included every night.
Actually, we hit it pretty hard. It is still reeling. I am too. We did count ourselves the victors (those who leave last ‘win’ the party at Ultimate tournaments), but I was also a victim, taking a reasonably substantial unscheduled snooze on the ground behind the big screen tv (how pleased am I that the weather is always perfect here?). They tell me that people were using me as a target to test the accuracy of their frisbee throws. They tell me that someone was protecting my head (thanks Si, and whoever put the cone down). They tell me other things happened too. The wilder they are, the less I believe. But I am hardly in a position to argue, I guess.
I trust that Day 1 of the Kaimana Klassik (for such is called this tournament) will be the most strenuous. If not, I could be in serious trouble.