The rough road...is littered with burn outs...Part 1

It’s been getting weird on the island in a very ominous way in the last few weeks. Strange events and personal embarrassments have made me question my place here; from getting the Ranger stuck on a remote jungle driveway and having to abandon it till the next day when my friend could pull it out with his Titan, to a near violent run-in with locals on a tiny upcountry back road when I nearly ran their truck off the road, to a failed real estate deal, followed by a failed business meeting with a vegan farmer who showed up wearing a bathrobe, to all nighters with hard drinking burners who are building a chapel in the rainforest of Hana for David LaChapelle, to the possibility that there is a serial killer roaming the island killing white woman whose bodies have yet to be found, to weird dreams and sleepless sweat soaked nights being ridiculed on the CB radio by unknown men in places like Tasmania and Albuquerque, and on top of all of this my funds having been getting dangerously low. Who knows what else happened that I cannot remember or have subconsciously blocked out of my mind. Either way I don’t want to know. And then goddamn it, I received a very strange phone call.

I was sitting on the porch of the bungalow drinking Hana Bay white rum listening to muffled arguments coming from the neighbors next door when I got a phone call from a 504 area code. I usually don’t answer the phone when I don’t know the number or the caller, but I was bored and so I answered.
“Hello?” I said. A deep voice answered back, "Semak?" "Yes, this is him. Who is this?”
“It’s Wes from New Orleans. Remember we met at Chuck’s in the French Quarter?”
The name sounded vaguely familiar. I thought back to my night at Chuck’s and it started coming back to me. I pulled out my wallet and pulled out all the cards and receipts and found his business card folded in half. It read *Wes Tremens, Private Investigator.
“Wes, Yes I remember, what's going on?”
“Did you make it to Maui?” He asked.
“Yes, I’ve been here for a few months.”
“Good, I have to leave town for awhile. I’ll be in Maui in two days. Can you pick me up at the airport?”
“Uh, I guess I could, I mean…”
“Good, I’ll text you my flight info, I’ll see you in two days.”
“Um…” He hung up the phone before I could say anything. I couldn’t believe it. The business card was real, but was he really coming here? I didn’t know or remember anything about him. I checked my text messages and sure enough there was a text from him with his flight number and arrival time. Sweet Jesus! I decided not to inquire any further.
*name changed to protect their identity

I didn’t sleep well the night before I was supposed to pick Wes up. I left the house at 10:30 and headed down to the Kahului Airport. The rain started pouring down as I drove in circles around the airport. Every time I came back around through the arrival gate I scoured the faces waiting on the curb, but I could not remember what he looked like. Then around the sixth or seventh time I saw a man with four huge suitcases, wearing a real tree t-shirt and a New Orleans Saints hat standing under an overhang smoking a cigarette. I pulled over and parked. I got out and looked at him. He smiled through a big brown beard and yelled at me, “Semak!” He dropped his cigarette on the ground and stepped on it and then walked over to me slowly and shook my hand.
“Nice to see you again.” He said.
“What the hell are you doing here? I was a little surprised when you called and said you were coming here, considering we’ve only met once.”
“Well you told me I should come here. So I’m here. What the hell is this weather? I thought this is supposed to be Hawaii? ”
“Yeah, well it rains in Hawaii too.” I pointed to his bags. “Jesus, what the hell do you got in there?”
“Everything. Is there somewhere we can go and get a drink? Somewhere where my bags won’t be exposed? ” He said while throwing his bags in the bed of the Ranger.
“Maybe.”
We got in the truck and I pulled out of the airport. The rain clouds were moving fast to the west and soon the sun was shining as I pulled into the Kahana Beach Park. I parked and he said, “Bar, I need a bar, not a dirty parking lot.”
“This is Maui man, you drink on the beach.” I said.
I got out and pulled my cooler out of the bed of the Ranger and starting walking towards the beach. Wes got out and followed me. We sat down on the beach and I opened the cooler and opened a Fire Rock Pale Ale and handed it to him. I opened one for myself and said “cheers.” He lit a cigarette and tapped his bottle to mine. We both said nothing and stared out to sea. The sun was lighting up the water to a bright turquoise. The beach was empty.
“I hope you’re not thinking…” Wes interrupted me before I could finish.
“Don’t worry, I have a suite at The Grand Wailea, and I’ll be renting a car later," he said.
I laughed and said, “I don’t remember much from that night in New Orleans, but I had your card in my wallet. Is that for real?”
“What?” he asked.
“Private Investigator?”
“Well, pretty much. But it’s not like the movies. Basically I follow people around and find out if they are cheating. That’s why I’m here. There is some gun crazy redneck bastard in Baton Rouge pretty unhappy that I showed his wife a bunch of pictures of him banging some strumpet in a hotel in the French Quarter. I needed to get out of town and that’s when I thought about you.”
“Shit," I said.
“Shit is right! It was time to reevaluate what I was doing. Now I’m drinking a beer on the beach. This is exactly what I needed.”
“How long you here for?” I asked.
“You saw my bags. I don’t know yet. I can’t go back for at least a few months.”
“How the hell are you gonna afford to stay at The Grand Wailea for that long.”
“I got some money. I’ll get a condo or something. I’m not worried.” He motioned for another beer. I opened one and handed it to him.

Jacques Arago : Maniere de punir de mort un coupable aux iles Sandwich -1819

We sat on the beach talking until Wes had finished off the last beer. Then I took him to the Enterprise car rental office and dropped him off. He told me that he would be in touch soon and grabbed his bags out of the Ranger. I watched him disappear into the office and then I slowly pulled out of the parking lot and headed to the Hana Highway going west. If things were weird before, they just got a hell of a lot weirder. I always felt at home in the weirdness, but at this point in life it can drive a man quickly down the rough road, and that road is littered with burn outs. People that are burned out on the mainland come here to either give up completely or to reenergize and find a new lust for life. I consider myself in the latter, but if things continue this way I could easily end up posted in a shack in the Hana jungle concerned with nothing more than the growth rate of my organic garden…but that sounds like hell to me. I belong in the fast lane, even if it’s unpaved. I am taking the sudden arrival of Wes as a good omen. I see no other option then to speed down the rough road and enjoy it.

3/20/14