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Living the Life of Holly
By Holly Winter
© 2004
The Hawaiian Bikini Stumble

“Honey.” Cool-guy yelled, as he shook me awake. “Grab the camera. Come quick. Hurry.”

I tried to ignore him. Really. I did.

“You’ve got to see this.” He insisted, lifting my legs off the reclining chair and plopping them onto the ground. “Hurry. Follow me.”

He picked up the camera and started running down the beach. I followed slowly, wondering if my dream about napping on the beach in Hawaii had turned bad, or if I was awake and leaving my beach napping grounds for a questionable beyond. I had jumped up too fast and felt a little dizzy.

“We’ll take this short cut.” He said as he pulled me off the beach and into a crowded restaurant.

This was our first day on the island. How did he already figure out the short cuts? How long had I been sleeping?

The restaurant was filled with old people in long t-shirts and long shorts who laughed at us as we worked our way around their tables. One woman called out, “Honey. I’ll take the one piece in a triple X.”

What was she talking about? I turned around. She was talking to me. Oh. God. No. I appeared to be modeling my new skimpy bikini. I’d only agreed to buy this suit swearing it would be saved for private beach moments. The suit fit somewhere between modest and obscene with all the fleshy parts covered, but I wasn’t accustomed to showing so much skin in public. If my mother saw me right now she would call me ‘naked’ and insist I put on a ‘whole’ bathing suit before I got arrested.

I self-consciously held one hand over my stomach and the other over my back which left my thighs totally exposed. I was tired. It wasn’t easy walking around trying to hide my near nakedness. Um. My boyfriend had set me up again, hadn’t he?

As I stumbled past people, I heard one click, then another. Where were they coming from? Some kind of restaurant noise? It took the short man in the long pants holding the camera in my face for me to make the connection: I was being photographed in my two inch bikini bottom by a Japanese tourist. He was recording my Hawaiian Bikini Stumble.

It was sort of like having ice water poured down my neck; I became hyper awake. I fixed my eyes on the escape door and within seconds, I had pushed four tottering customers out of the way, jumped over six children playing in the aisle and pulled my boyfriend out of the restaurant at top speed.

Clueless-Cool-guy dragged my bare feet over lava rocks, across a public beach, through a crowded public café, and across a parking lot before he started searching around a far beach.

“Oh. Honey. You didn’t move fast enough. YOU MISSED IT.”

“Didn’t move fast enough?” I demanded. All of the people on this beach were wearing expensive cover-ups over their bathing suits. I was still the least dressed. Would this nightmare never end? “What do you mean I didn’t move fast enough? Oh. That must be because I stopped to sign autographs after the photo shoot. You planned that, didn’t you?”

“There was this turtle here. He was SO COOL. You missed it.”

People were watching us. People were watching us. They could tell we were newly arrived. No tans. A little uptight. And they had witnessed me being pulled, at top speed through several of the busiest parts on this side of The Big Island.

I crossed my arms. “You know. You woke me up. I was napping.”

“The next time I tell you I have something to show you…” He said, still searching for the turtle, “RUN.”

An old man selling leis (flower necklaces) on the beach nudged Cool-guy’s arm. “There’s another turtle right there.” He said, pointing. “They come here every day. That’s why this is called, Turtle Beach.”

“See.” Cool-guy pointed. “There he is.”

There was the Green Sea Turtle swimming right off shore. He was searching for food amongst the lava rocks. He paddled with all four legs while his head bobbed back and forth eating small strands of algae. People swam all around him and posed for pictures which didn’t slow Mr. Turtle down one bit.

I felt as if I had been chosen to film a National Geographic Special. A turtle within a few yards of shore nibbling on algae? “Take my picture.” I ordered as I plunged into the water and swam out to the turtle. Good thing I was wearing a bathing suit.

“Oh.” Cool-guy teased. “Now you WANT your picture taken? Make up your mind.”

The moment I had secured my spot next to the wild reptile, my stomach started somersaulting. I’d never been so close to a wild reptile jaw and it didn’t look playful; this was business. I backed off a bit. Why interrupt his dinner? “Hurry. Take the picture.”

“Get closer.”

“Um. I’m close enough.” I said through a frozen smile.

He snapped one picture. (Later friends would try to see the turtle swimming around and wonder if I was sure the discoloration wasn’t seaweed. Um. Look harder.)

I crawled onto the sand to warm up and nearly sat on a turtle who was lounging in the sun. He was the essence of peace in a place where volleyball, cell phone blabbering and boogie-boarding was the rule. How could he sleep?

Cool-guy laughed. “Oh. Maybe THIS was the turtle I wanted to show you. I guess you didn’t have to get wet, after all.”

I looked at the Green Turtle napping on the sand and leaned down to have a private chat. “You know, if my sweet boyfriend had his way, he’d wake you up and drag you through restaurants and parking lots to show you something far, far away.”

I settled into the sand next to Mr. Turtle. “Now. I think you should go wherever you are called, because there might be something exciting. But. May I suggest, no matter the appearance of urgency, you should always dress first?

Believe me. You’ll thank me later.”

Wanna try another column? How about #139: Enough is Enough is Enough which is about me (not really) helping Cool-guy in the kitchen.

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Copyright © 2004 by Holly Winter
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