Taking the advice of the crazy van driver Ike, we went to Germaine's Luau.
The previous night marked the last day of work. We were now free from the tyranny of a graveyard-shift schedule. To highlight this event we reserved four places for Germaine's Luau for a nighttime celebration.
At 4PM we loaded up on the bus. We were greeted by Cousin Aka, a native of the islands to the north. He shared his traditions with us, and performed an anniversary ceremony for the longest-married couple on the bus (21 years).
We arrived at Germaine's and received our Leis. There were two kinds of tables, picnic tables, and lower tables without chairs. We kicked off our shoes and sat Indian-style in the sand.
The entertainment began - a large Hawai'ian woman belting out some Hawai'ian/Lawrence Welk hybrid tunes. The king and queen of the luau were ushered in, then we were all bade to attend the uncovering of the roast pig.
The crowd gathered 'round the roasting pit as two Hawai'ians removed the cloth tarp from the pit. They tossed out the still-hot cooking rocks onto the sand, and lifted up the remains of the pig. The stripped skull danced around in the meat, one of the handlers lifted the skull up high for us to photograph.
We had a good table - Chris, Karen, Kristen, and I, a couple from Canada, and three hot chicks with a dude (all from SoCal). John, the son of the 21-year-anniversary-couple, sat down with us and leered at the womenfolk.
Now everyone had three free drink tickets. The girls from California used their tickets up quickly, and headed back to the bar for more, graciously buying Kristen round after round of drinks, each one loaded with demon alcohol. So once the luau ended, we climbed back aboard Bus #8 for the return trip.
Once again, our Cousin Aka entertained us with music and tales of his people. Kristen plaintively called out to me for a barf bag. Being the dutiful brother, I raised my hand and Aka asked me what I needed. "A barf bag" I replied, and the other passengers laughed at my seeming inability to hold my liquor.
I passed the bag back to Kristen, who mercifully didn't throw up. And when I say "didn't throw up" I mean "didn't throw up at that moment." After piling off the bus, she cried out, grabbed onto me, and threw up onto her sandals. Ugh. She insisted she not be moved, with murmured cries of "it hurts it hurts." I tried to move her, but she grasped my upper arm and gave it such a vicious pinch that she hit a nerve. My arm was useless for about 10 minutes after that.
I carried her to the oceanside entrance of hour hotel, while Chris, John, and Karen helped by retrieving water, and eventually stole a couch for Kristen to lay on (which she refused to do). The hotel manager came out and asked us if he could get us anything - Chris suggested a wheelchair. A few minutes later we had Kristen upstairs, where a sudden burst of energy made her leap out of the wheelchair and onto her bed - surely a miracle!