We woke up from a longer night of resting than I expected to the rising Maui sun. Stretching over balcony walls, tip-toeing through the garden of bushes proceeding rails, and hugging us through the windows while we lie prone in bed. B playing her island game on phone, me caressing her and smuggling a few remaining bits of sleep.
Breakfast at the Cafe Kiowai(every spot is a cafe out here, or doubles as one as the case is here) was below par. Great tasting pancakes and stuffed french toast at a price I could have cooked the damn food my Self for. The food did taste great, however.
B and I left the overly priced morning meal for Kihei, a section of Hawaii’s Maui Island that looks to be much more residential than resort. Our destination was to pick up our Marriage License from the Health Department. On the ride, my mind drifted to the old Yakub myth detailed in The Honorable Elijah Muhammad’s “The Message To The Black Man”. Not that I am a staunch believer in the teachings, well, to a degree, moreso it tickles my fancy. The Yakub theory comes to my mind often when the topic of mating comes up, though.
Back in Maryland, B and I filled out the forms for marriage online. Interestingly enough, when one applies for the groom to take the bride’s last name, it prompts the program to ask why. In 2015, I suppose some customs are difficult to breach without too much ado about nothing. B felt the need to preempt the curious reaction from the woman issuing the documents. The lady behind the computer in the small office on the side of the house smiled and said while rare, it occurs enough for her not to be shocked. In fact, she went on to say, she wished her son-in-law took their last name.
Me and B left, a bit weary for the realization that it was actually going to happen, I believe. I did not expect to feel any sense of nervousness. I mean, we’ve been living together for the better part of four years. And yet, we returned to the room and rested, giggling between naps as we looked at the official paperwork. We did leave out for snacks.
Something I did not consider until I was there was how difficult it is to supply the world’s farthest most landmass. And the prices of common groceries, like cereal, definitely reflects that. I would also suppose the need to compete with surrounding tourist’s traps would add to overall price of foodstuffs in the area. Not to beat a dying mule here, but, I continue to be shocked by the dearth of Black people here. Maui is a very Whyte area, even almost southern Whyte in feel.
Later, once evening arrived, we joined B’s mother and two uncles at Molokini’s once again. While the food is not horrible, actually, the food tastes great, I do dislike resort restaurants. And my disdain for racial hierarchies that do not have US Blacks as lead echelon tend to annoy me. However, social analysis aside(again), my dish was terrific, B says her dish was satisfactory, but everybody at the table thought differently about their own food. I, once again, do not favor resort dining, I like to get out & about, mixing & mingling more with actual locals. But, hey, the, well, my food was delicious.