Fall 2005: The Leftovers


The rest of November were very uneventful until the day after Thanksgiving 2005. My cousin and his girlfriend (who is now his wife) came out to Hawai’i. She had been there quite a few times for work and it was my cousins first time to the island. I picked him up from the airport and dropped him off at the Hilton Hawaiian Village where he was to meet his girlfriend. I would have stayed longer, but I had tickets to the UH vs. Wisconsin game at Aloha Stadium. Also, there was a SNOB turnover up at the point that night too.

I had extra ticket to the game so as soon as I dropped my cousin off, I bombed down the H1 to meet Newt and his (now ex) wife at the game. Wisconsin kicked the shit out of Hawai’i and it was on to the party up at Ka’ena Point.  It was rainy as shit, not good weather for a SNOB turnover, but we made the best of it. This one in particular was the turnover of MobyDick to Pastry.

It was rainy and muddy as hell. We were trying to get a coner to get into the truck so we could get the hell out of there. He was refusing, and drunk. I wasn’t looking, but I heard what sounded like a slap. I look over and his buddy was standing over him with a fist and an angry look and his face. He was out cold. His buddy had knocked him out cold!


We piled the out-cold coner into the back of the truck with the dogs. I was sitting back there with him when he came to. He just pleasantly started petting one of the dogs like nothing happened, “Hey poochie.”

Pastry got his Jeep stuck in a massive mud-puddle and I helped him get it out by pushing. I’ll remind you that it was soaking wet and actively raining out. I was soaked and my hands were wet. While I was pushing my hand slipped and I badly scraped my wrist. That scar stuck with me for awhile, but has since faded. We got the Jeep out and I rode with some dudes I barely knew back to Pastry’s in Kailua. Once there, I walked around the rest of the night in my underwear. Not something I’d normally do, but it was a rough night. I was trying to dry out my shorts, and o while I was waiting for them to dry, I actually had a semi-salient conversation with the coner who got knocked out. He didn’t seem as shit-faced as he had 2 hours earlier, and I was drunker by now.

At the end of the night, everyone had gone to bed and I put on my still soaked shorts and walked home alone. It was about a 15 minute walk, and at 4 AM seemed to take forever. That next Saturday, the 26th I slept all day and had to get up only to go to work at 8:00pm.

I got off work at 8 AM on the next day (Sunday) and was stoked to go meet up with my cousin. I had bought him a nice smoking piece from this head shop near Arnold’s in Waikiki as a kind of “Welcome to Hawaii” gift. He loved it and we promptly broke it in. He found a bag from some random dude in Waikiki coming out of a Jack-In-The-Box. Up until that point, he was doing the McGyver thing and found a pen in his girlfriend’s bag and pulled a screen from the faucet in his hotel room bathroom.

He later told me that that piece I got for him had broken in transit from Hawaii back to Minnesota. As he was telling me the story, I could tell that he was genuinely sad and upset that it broke. Ah well, it was a nice gesture, I guess.

That Sunday, I introduced the two of them to the catamaran sunset cruise. The three of us met up with Nugget and hit up Duke’s. It was awesome as usual, but this time there was this dude out there with a Ukulele playing Bob Marley and Sublime tunes. The MaiTais were flowing a I think my guests had an awesome time. Mission accomplished.

It was also on this day that I learned that Hokie was coming back to Hawaii off of Pac early because he punched a window in Guam in a drunken rage. He flew in the following day (Monday) while I was on duty.

The next Tuesday, my cousin came up to Kailua to hang out. Hokie, those two and I hit a killer steakhouse called Buzz’s over by the public beach in Kailua. We had a great time and my cousin came back to our place for booze, tunes, cards and as soon as his girlfriend hit the hay, me and my cousin smoked and played some poker. I loved having him out there to see me in my element. We had a blast.

Buzz’s Steakhouse.  Kailua, Hawaii.  A fine establishment.

The next night my cousin’s girlfriend used some of her contacts to rent a cottage up on the North Shore, so I went and hung out with them up there. I couldn’t stay late because I had to work or had duty the next morning. It was a beat-up, rustic old place right out on a beach. It was time for me to head back so we managed to find our way back to my car via cell-phone light. (No one had a flashlight and the paths weren’t lit) After almost getting lost, but eventually finding my car, I realized that I left my wallet back at the cottage. Here we go again… We managed to find our way back to the cottage and back to my car, again. All by guidance of three flipped open cell phones, periodically pushing a button when the backlight timers would time out. Too much hiking through the bush.

Hokie and I were coming on to base in the morning. I was heading to SY for work and Hokie had to go to the doctor for his broken hand. As I was coming on base, I had my ball cap on backwards. A no-no if you are in uniform.

I pulled up to the sentry, an older first-class Master at Arms. He looked at my ID and then ordered me to put my hat on properly. I obliged, and was turning my hat around and letting my foot off the brake to slowly pull away, and at the same time I shouted out my still open window…

“Thanks for telling me what to do in my own fucking car!!”

The MA1 hears this and yells after me, “HEY! Stop! Get back here!”

I floored it a tore off to go drop Hokie off. Hokie starts laughing hysterically as soon as I speed away. If you ask him to this day, he’ll probably remember this incident. He thought it was hysterical.

That was Wednesday September 30th. The next day, Thursday the 1st of December, I was coming through the same gate and I was about to pay for my hot-headedness the day prior. This time I was by myself. The guy that checked my ID this time was a different MA than MA1 ‘DonkeyDick,’ but apparently their whole division was alerted and now knew my name. The MA shouts over to his LPO…

“Hey! It’s him.” (Pointing at my Altima.)

MA2(to me): “Pull over to the side here.”

I pulled over and had a ridiculous conversation with their LPO. He let me have it, “I’m going to tell your captain on you…” and the like.

Me: “I think this whole thing, this whole conversation we’re having is completely asinine and a waste of time.”

LPO: “Well, I just need you to apologize to MA1 DonkeyDick.”

What a bunch of childish bullshit. I swallowed my pride and apologized to the MA1. I mostly just wanted the whole thing to be over and to be on with my life.

Lesson learned: when you have a shitty boring job, you take it way more seriously than is necessary and you’re just waiting for some shit head PO2 to come by with his hat backwards so you can flex your rank. Also, don’t fuck with MAs, they have zero sense of humor.

Published by dbradyf

Gentleman. Scholar.

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