I Don't Love the Ocean, I love the Coast (Part 2)

or "I feel like Hell in Paradise"

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5 March 2009, 18:20 hrs
Mitch drops by the operations office located on the bridge deck of the JOIDES Resolution to ask if I'm about ready to have a beer. Being the sociable guy I am, we are off to the crossover party in Mitch's rental car.

In the olden days, usually on the evening of the day when the two crews change out (also know as crossover) the powers that be would give a little party at a local watering hole and too often times more touristy type establishments. Free drinks would normally flow for an hour or two, maybe longer depending on the port and corresponding drink prices. Certain non-government funds were used for this and other things like the annual Holiday (formerly known as Christmas) party. Then new management came along and nixed the use of these funds for alcohol purchases. It was/is my understandings that there would then be no more crossover parties, but somehow, someone came up with some money and voilà, crossover party. Whether they continue in the future, who knows. Times are changing.

Crossover parties can be held at places from dive bars to fancy restaurants depending on who is in charge of them. In this case, the gathering is at "Cheeseburger Waikiki", a touristy tiki hut bar place that is apparently part of a Hawaiian chain called "Cheeseburger Restaurants." It's a patio style place with the plastic walls that roll down when the weather's bad. Waitresses wear grass skirts and push Mai Tai drinks with pineapple slices and little umbrella toothpicks. Now I like palm trees, and grass huts and all that, but not the Disneyland version, so this was pretty much the exact opposite of my kinda place. Did I mention free drinks?

When Mitch and I arrive our private patio area is already pretty full, but I find a seat. About 15 minutes later a grass skirted waitress stops by to take my drink order. I always try to sample the local brew where ever I travel. This is no exception.There are several local beers from the Kona Brewing Company on the menu. I pick the Longboard Lager. Another 15 minutes pass before she returns with my beer. I try to order a $12 cheeseburger at this point, but she hurries away before I can speak. At least 20 more minutes pass before I can get her attention and order a second beer. She turns away before I can place a food order, luckily my friend blocks her path. I place the order as she scribbles on on a notepad completely full of drink and food orders for our section. I see that she writes the burger down, but without any indication of where I am sitting . I wonder if she has any intention to bring me a beer or a cheeseburger. Forty minutes later no beer and no cheeseburger. Apparently the management felt like two wait staff was plenty to handle the expected 50 to 75 people. I decide to go to the bar and order for myself. I walk up just as one of my co-workers is being asked to leave the dining room. The waitress tells her that we must stay in our reserved area. I'm beginning to wonder if we are being held against our will and really starting to get ticked off. I walk back to the entrance of our patio and stand there with some other guys who have figured out the system. As soon as a waitress walks into our area with a tray of drinks, she asks who ordered a such and such drink. The trick is, no matter what you ordered, if you are willing to drink what she's carrying, just speak up. I get a couple of beers this way, but I am hungry. Now three pints and 90 minutes after ordering my cheeseburger, I've had a enough. I gather up Mitch and my friend Eric and we are off and around the block.

5 March 2009, 2115 hrs
The Irish Rose is quite full, but everyone is as friendly as before. Tonight the bartender is truly Irish judging by his accent. The band is just starting to play. They are a cover band and start off with the Toadies' "Possum Kingdom", which takes me home to Texas for a bit. We are sitting at the bar, Mitch is next to a "No Smoking" sign that also points out that it is illegal to smoke inside, under Hawaiian law. He pulls out a cigarette and asks the bartender for an ash tray. The bartender walks, by places an ash tray in front of Mitch and says, "It's Illegal to Smoke", then walks away. As Mitch lights his cigarette, the band starts playing Cheap Trick's "Surrender". I make a failed attempt not to sing along. While reading a flier advertising the bar's tricycle races posted on the side of the taps, I glance up to see that they have some kind of pear cider on tap, so I order a snake bite. Cider goes in first and then Guinness is layered on top, which creates a good mix of bitter and sweet. After my first snakebite, Mitch orders one, then I notice a couple of others have ordered some from across the bar. Mitch remarks that I have started something. The band plays a Stevie Ray Vaughn song. I feel like the snake bite, bittersweet. It's a great hangout, the people are friendly, the weather suits my style, but I'm too far from home, with a long journey ahead of me.