Title: The Art of Restoration (1/1)
Series: 100 Original Fics
Character: Fox Maharassa
Prompt: 059 - Food
Spoilers: post FH strips
Summary: The 3rd of Fox's articles/blog posts about his birthday trip to Hawaii.
Word Count: 1261
Date First Posted: 15-06-12
Date Revised: -
Notes: Hmm. Trundling along :)
Feedback: always welcome, as is constructive criticism.
Also Archived At: LJ
The Art of Restoration
By Fox Maharassa
It is with much pleasure -- and not a small amount of relief -- that I inform you we made it to Hawaii in one piece. I write this from the sanctity of a beautiful domicile in Kihei, Maui.
There are times when I doubted it; wrote goodbye notes, put as many of my affairs in order as possible, even drafted my final will and testament, but thankfully all those precautions have been happily discarded.
Or in the very least, filed away on my computer. We still have a return journey, after all.
There is a moment when we land that I consider prostrating myself on the ground and kissing the tarmac like the Pope (now I think I understand why he does it), but it all seems a little too Catholic. Well, for me, at least, no offence my Roman Catholic brethren.
Avoiding our friendly neighbourhood Navy Seal, we exit the plane quickly and quietly, wills temporarily broken. Collin looks tired and still a bit tipsy from the quantities of alcohol drunk on the flight over. I admit to not having slept a whole lot, either, and am starting to wonder if this is the brilliant trip we’d both hoped it would be.
Honesty time, folks. I’ve been with my partner Collin for about eight years now, but we’ve been best friends for twenty plus. Our friendship and relationship are woven together inextricably now, in a tapestry that is -- for the most part -- big, bright and beautiful.
But there are parts of that tapestry that aren’t so bright, not so strong. It has a few holes in it, and in our recent past, a large, ugly part threatened to spoil it all. Threads were pulled, good pieces unravelled, and the whole thing was nearly ruined.
The good news is, our tapestry was saved. It’s not in the best nick it’s ever been, and there’s still a dull part, but the holes are being patched up, and new work is being done on it all the time. In the future I’m hopeful it will be more magnificent than ever.
(The tapestry metaphor is a polite way of illustrating turbulent times while essentially still keeping them private, thus legitimately avoiding Collin’s ire and preventing more turbulent times, natch. Ah, the circle of life, and me without a lion cub to hold to the sky.)
This trip is the first one we’ve taken together in longer than I care to remember, and with ties between us still being rebuilt, the less stress, the better it will be. For me, for him, for the great state of Hawaii, and for the space-time continuum in general.
We lag back to dodge Stan the Seal once again before heading through the Arrivals gate. Collin rummages around in his carry-on for the information how to get to our accommodation and I people-watch like usual, when a very familiar name catches my eye.
My name, in point of fact.
It’s on a sign held by a beautiful Hawaiian native woman with white orchids in her hair. I nudge Collin with my elbow (possibly a little too hard) and point to her.
“Did you organise this?”
Collin looks up, and I see a slight frown crease his brow. “If I had, I would never have gotten such a gorgeous woman to be holding that sign. Would it kill the Hawaiians to be at least a little ugly?”
This makes perfect sense. If Collin had organised it, it would’ve been a strapping Hawaiian man holding his surname instead. Maybe I’ll have to organise that next time. A) If there is a next time, and B) if my ego can handle it.
I wave at her, and she walks over to us. There are two beautiful leis hanging from her arm, made of white and yellow fragrant orchids.
“Aloha,” she says warmly, “and welcome to Maui.” With that, she places a lei around my neck and kisses me on the cheek.
Turns out this esteemed publication organised this greeting, though I think it was only to have me report back that I blushed like a teen boy. Damn you.
My only consolation is that for all of Collin’s posturing, I swear I see his cheekbones color a little when she kisses him, as well. He later blames the warm light of early morning as well as the flush of alcohol consumption, but I know what I saw. I leave it to you to draw your own conclusions. There are teases I level at him that shall never be published, for fear I might never experience intimacy again.
Our greeter, Lani, tells us that a rental car had been organised, and gives us directions to not only that, but our cottage. It’s here I forgive my editor for the embarrassment of my blush at our greeter, because we have a Jeep rental for the week; the Jeep being my fantasy vacation vehicle.
You win, sir. You win.
Piling our bags into the trunk, and dosing Collin with Advil, who has the beginnings of a truly horrendous hangover, I begin the short drive to our destination.
Vacation-driving is so much more pleasant than work-driving. With work you're always clock-watching, cursing red lights, gauging how long you'll be stuck in the jam when that road works up the street closes off one lane and everyone has to merge into one lane save for the fact nobody remembers how to merge properly and everyone's an idiot--
But I digress. Vacation-driving lends itself to really appreciating the technology of automobiles as an amazing vehicle for taking in the sights around you, even moreso if you're in a new location.
The drive from Kahului airport to Kihei doesn't take longer than about thirty minutes, but it is the first pleasant thirty minutes we've had in about eight hours, and that makes all the difference. In no time at all, it seems, we hit Kihei. I find somewhere we can get a nice, greasy breakfast for the boy, and stock up on food for the coming week.
That's another thing; vacation-shopping. Totally different animal to ordinary life shopping. I don't mind grocery shopping as a rule, but embarrassingly, it takes me far longer than it should, and I've been chipped more than once for buying stupid things that we'll never eat just because they're on special ("'Potato bread', Fox? Are you trying to kill me with carbohydrates?"), and letting them go bad ("I'm throwing this packet of tortillas out. They've developed their own culture of bacteria that is mastering rudimentary speech.").
But vacation-shopping. It's inexplicably fun. Good things are bought, as well as many bad-but-so-delicious things that are okay to eat when you're on vacation and letting yourself have some fun.
When you shop in a new state, you also get the joy of discovering the local products that seem so ridiculously bizarre to you, but are perfectly commonplace in your current location (Poi in a can, anyone?).
Still, no matter the setting or the circumstances, it's never a bad thing to find those little items that will make you feel at home. It's good to know some things stay the same, and sometimes those old favourites are available in any location, no matter what.
And even though things are different and new in this new location, I am still the same person that left the continental United States.
And that person has never, ever, let a can of whipped cream or three go to waste.