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In this issue: 1. Erik reflects back
on this last year and then some. New Year's Reflections Maui Style... Before I moved to Maui 6 years ago, I was in Pennsylvania steadfastly stuffing clothes into a duffle bag preparing to leave that god-forsaken land of the damned (ok so I’m being a little melodramatic) dreaming of warm year-round surfing, white sandy beaches, and that holiest of grails… pretty girls in bikinis. I had just sold my trusty friend of a van. She was my apartment on wheels if you will, my beachfront Key West property, my house on the beach at Cape Hatteras, my cabin in the forests of western Pennsylvania. I had managed to whittle my personal belongings down to the barest of essentials: 1 green Marine Corps duffel bag with more miles under her keel than Charlie Lindbergh; 1 surfboard slightly used for lack of waves and egregiously frigid water; 1 beat up old Washburn guitar; and finally, five thousand dollars in large bills so they’d fit into my shoes. There was no turning back now. I was set and nothing could stop me short of global annihilation. I said good-bye to family and friends, and the world was looking a lot like my oyster. But before I left, my older sister said good-bye to me on the phone and left me with a particularly peculiar warning. I can still hear her shaking her head through the phone. She said, “You know Erik, be careful out there in the islands. One day you’re going to wake up look around and realize you’re 45 years old and have absolutely no idea how you got there.” I remember wondering at the time how my sister came to attain such information but never the less I heeded her advice, wished her adieu and was on my way. Well I landed and began my adventure. Within hours I was knee deep in this warm Pacific Ocean laughing out loud to myself like some sort of lunatic. The thought of surfing for hours with no wetsuit was almost overwhelming. For that first month, my life consisted of nothing more than surfing and working on my tan. Somewhere along the line I got a job pumping tanks in a dive shop, which lead to my first job as boat crew and eventually to my captain’s license. The days became months, and the months became years. It was sunset after sunset, margarita after margarita, and smile after smile. There were sea turtles; there were dolphins; there were whales; and again, there were pretty girls in bikinis. They say time moves a little faster out here and I’m starting to believe they’re right. Flash forward with me 6 years. Holy crap! It’s been 6 years since the day I landed in this Polynesian time machine. More often than not I find myself sitting on a stool in a little bar or out on a boat with a new guitar. That surfboard has long since gone. My Van? It's called a mortgage now and no longer has wheels. Those shoes wouldn’t hold money any more. (You can’t stuff that much into a flip-flop.) My clothes all look the same; board shorts and t-shirts. Well there still are the white sandy beaches, the warm water, and yes the girls do in fact still wear bikinis.
Where am I going with all this you ask? Well it’s the end
of December 2002. It’s a time you just can’t help reflecting
on the past year (years?). In just a few short days I’ll be
screwing up the dates in my checkbook again. Figuring out just where
I should be this time next year. It’s the usual end of year
worries. However this year I’ve discovered something new.
As I write this, I’m sitting in the San Francisco airport waiting
for the plane to take me back to my island bubble when I look up at the
board containing my flight in formation when I realize I have just completed
the final phase and I now AM a Jimmy Buffett song. Not quite sure
where I was, not quite sure where I am, and not quite sure where it is
exactly that I’m going. But so far so good and steady as she
goes! And perhaps the funniest part of it all, it looks like my
sister was right. Well I’m not 45 yet but it would appear
I’m on my way. (Just wish someone had warned Deep! Haha!) Every now and then, some visionary individuals come along with a concept that is so original and so revolutionary that your immediate reaction is: Those individuals should be on medication.” Today I want to tell you about two such people, John Baur and Mark Summers, who have come up with a concept that is going to make you kick yourself for not thinking of it first: Talk Like A Pirate Day. As the name suggests, this is a day on which everybody would talk like a pirate. Is that a great idea or what? There are so many practical benefits that I can’t even begin to list them all. Baur and Summers came up with the idea a few years ago. They were playing racquetball, and, as so often happens, they began talking like pirates. And the idea struck them: Why not have a day when EVERYBODY talks like a pirate? They decided that the logical day would be September 19th, because that – as you are no doubt aware – is Summer’s ex-wife’s birthday. Since then Baur and Summers have made a near superhuman effort to promote Talk Like A Pirate Day. As Baur puts it: “ We’ve talked like pirates, and encouraged our several friends to, every Sept 19, except for a couple where we forgot." And yet, incredibly, despite this well-orchestrated campaign the nation has turned a deaf shoulder to Talk Like A Pirate Day. In desperation, Baur and Summers turned to me for help. As an influential newspaper columnist, I have the power to “make or break” a national day. You may recall that almost nobody celebrated Thanksgiving until I began writing about it in the 1970’s. I have given Baur and Summers’ idea serious thought, looking for ways to improve it. One variation I considered was Talk Like a Member of the Lollipop Guild Day, on which everybody would talk like the three munchkins in the film version of “The Wizard of Oz” who welcome Dorothy to Munchkin Land by singing with one corner of their mouths drooping down, as though the have large invisible dental suction devices hanging from their lips. But I realized that would be stupid. So I have decided to throw my full support behind Talk Like a Pirate Day, to be observed Thursday, Sept 19. To help promote this important cause, I have decided to seek the endorsement of famous celebrities, and I am pleased to report that, as of today, Tom Cruise, Julia Roberts, Brittany Spears, Brad Pitt, Oprah Winfrey, the Osbournes, Tiger Woods, Ted Koppel, the Sopranos, Puff Doody and the late Elvis Presley are all people who I hope will read this column and become big supporters. I see no need to recruit President Bush, because he already talks like a pirate, as we can see from this transcript of a recent White House press conference: REPORTER: Could you please explain
either your foreign or your Domestic policy? As you can see, taking like a pirate will infuse your everyday conversations with romance and danger. So join the movement! On Sept 19, do not answer the phone with “hello”. Answer the phone with “Ahoy me hearty!” If the caller objects that he is not a hearty, inform him that he is a scurvy dog (or, if the caller is female, a scurvy female dog) who will be walking the plank off the poop deck and winding up in Davy Jones’ locker, sleeping with the fishes. No, wait, that would be Talk Like a Pirate in “The Godfather” Day, which is another variation I considered (“I’m gonna make him an offer that will shiver his timbers”). But the point is, this is a great idea, and you, me bucko, should be a part of it. Join us on Sept 19. You HAVE the buckles, darn it: Don’t be afraid to swash them! Let’s make this into a grass-roots movement that sweeps the nation, like campaign-finance reform, or Krispy Kreme doughnuts. I truly think this idea could bring us, as a nation, closer together. But not TOO much closer. Some of us will have swords. • Dave Barry is a humor columnist for the Miami
Herald. Write to him c/o The Miami Herald, One Herald Plaza, Miami,
FL 33132
By: Captain Deep Banana In the mid nineties the mighty vessel Zephyrs and I, along with a few fellow Captains who were dive instructors at the time, were hired by Paramount Movie Studios to help do a movie shoot. We were hired to be the safety vessel and supply the safety divers for the water scenes. The name of the movie was Crowfoot and I really doubt if anybody has ever heard of it. It was a big bad flop and the only reason my crew and I watched it was to see our names in the credits at the end of the movie. (We were probably too drunk to read the credits by then anyway). Basically the story was about a detective in Lahaina who is investigating the shark attack death of a woman who comes back as a ghost to catch her killers (happens here all the time…). The dead woman’s character was played by an actress named Kate Hodge. Kate’s had a few supporting roles and has acted in a few sit-coms. Rick from Magnum P.I. was there, as was Wilma from Buck Rogers and a few other actors that would probably like to forget about this particular movie. To top it all off, James Whitmore Jr. from Ba Ba Black Sheep directed the entire ensemble. The mighty vessel Zephyrs, along with the safety divers, movie director, cameramen, make-up artists, caterers, Kate Hodge (the only actor on board), a stunt double, all the dive gear, movie gear, myself, and honorable mention to the directors kids all crammed on board, was sitting about a half mile off shore of Kaanapali Beach on Maui. Keep in mind that the Zephyrs is only 41 feet long and 12 feet wide. We were sitting pretty heavy in the water! Zephyrs reminded me of a typical snorkel boat going to Molokini Crater. Being the harbor rats that we were, everybody on the boat looked a lot more important than my crew and myself. Once we had dropped anchor I really did not have much to do but watch breathlessly at a real life movie shoot! WOW! The movie scene that they were setting up for was a short one, lasting a whole 2-3 seconds, which must be why we started at sunup. The scene itself was of Kate Hodge getting pushed overboard with her hands bound behind her back where she would be eaten by sharks. The sharks would be added later. My safety divers were taking instruction on how to save Kate Hodge after she was thrown overboard. It was funny to watch my divers roll their eyes as they listened. These guys have had more experience saving more lame asses while diving then anyone from Hollywood could ever imagine. The cameramen had set up and secured their one camera, and then came Kate. I was really impressed. A real live movie actress dressed in a little white girlie thing on my very boat. Zephyrs was beaming that day and I swear that I heard angels singing. I was introduced to her by the director, which made me so nervous I didn’t think my ass would ever work right again the rest of my life. I sounded like a whining little puppy dog when I asked Kate? Do you think I could get my picture taken with you in the pilothouse? Whimper, Whimper, Whimper. In so many words she replied, “Why yes you pathetic excuse for a common boat captain, you little man. I don’t mind at all.” Next thing I knew she was sitting on my lap in the captains chair and I was sporting a woody. The picture was taken and will be one that I will always be proud of. Kate headed down to the main cabin to get her make-up done. I didn’t have much to do so I did a walk around on the boat to make sure everything was shipshape. I checked my lines and lights and other safety things; just the standard procedures. Most captains are proud of their vessels and like to make sure everything is in order whether it’s a garbage scow or a luxury yacht. I eventually made my way to the main cabin where Kate (we’re on a first name basis now) was getting her make-up done. Then I saw it. The woman of my dreams for that day, the not-so-famous movie star, was crushing her cigarette butt out on the deck into my brand new carpet in the main cabin. Aaaaaargh! What should I do? How should I handle this? She’s not getting away with this! I approached her with a lump in my throat and asked her if she could please use an ashtray. She snapped at me and told me she could do what she wanted. Oh my God, my dream girl was a bitch! I couldn’t believe it. However, the next thing I knew the director came into the cabin and unloaded on her. He told her to do what I said or she would be thrown off the set. Ha! I sat back in the corner and smirked. Soon she would be pushed off the boat and I just wished that I could be the one doing the pushing. Well, about five hours into the day they are just about ready to do the three-second movie shoot. I could have done it with my Sears video camera for one-tenth the cost in about five minutes. Kate Hodge was in position on the side rail, the safety divers were in position and the camera was ready to roll. Still not having anything to do, I positioned myself on the top deck of the pilothouse with my camera (one of my favorite positions!) I was hoping to get a few action shots of the movie shoot, so I assumed a position over the cameraman. All of a sudden the director hollered Action and then Cut! Kate was in the water and it was over. I managed to snap a few pictures of the sequence, which I have added to this page. Eight hours into the day the three second shot was taken. We wrapped everything up and headed back to the harbor. By 5:00 PM we were all sitting in Kimo’s restaurant drinking Morgan’s and coke and eating Maine lobster (all on Paramount of course). All in all it was a fine day as that sun sank below the Pacific horizon. A week later I got my pictures back from the developer and they came out so well that I had to crack a bottle of wine. I was kind of bummed out though when I dropped one of the best pictures down into a crack on the boat. I did manage to find it and hopefully the Whaleshark will post it on this month’s newsletter. The entire movie shoot went very well, especially since I made a lot of money, and the work was pretty easy. Another shitty day in paradise… Yeah, I think I know why I live on this island... So until
next month, let’s all CRACK a smile together, and if anybody has
any questions feel free to e-mail me. Maybe we can CRACK a few jokes about
Kate Hodge together. I included a photo of the Maui sunset, LIFE’S
A BEACH! Have a happy and safe New Year!!!
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