Kurt and I stayed at a bed and breakfast on our honeymoon. Everything was going well - the setting was lovely, the room was comfortable, the location was good.
Then came breakfast.
Things started out well enough. There was a gorgeous spread of tropical fruit and Hawaiian sweet bread. Jackpot!
As I was loading my plate with pineapple and papaya, I noticed that the conversation at the main table was a bit ... strange.
On the surface, everyone was just talking about what they had done on vacation and their plans for the day. But there was an edge ... an urgency even ... that felt a bit odd. I placed my waffle order and went to eat on the lanai. Better safe than sorry.
Kurt joined me, and I was soon glad I'd veered away from the main breakfast room. The "friendly" conversation had turned into a pissing match. The goal was to see who had done the most extreme, unusual activities and brag about them without appearing to do so. It was all done with a smile, but the meaning was clear: My vacation is better than your vacation.
Since the conversation was loud (why brag softly after all?), I resolved to eat my waffle and get back to the room as soon as possible.
Then they sat down. Pisseurs extraordinaire: Mr. and Mrs. Topper.
It was like Muhammad Ali vs Pee Wee Herman. We had no shot.
"What all have you done?" they asked. This was politeness only, of course. A set-up to allow them to
We went to Volcano National Park. Well, they hiked 11 miles, uphill both ways, into a steaming caldera.
We drove to South Point. They braved the turbulent waters of the Pacific to swim with hot lava.
Blah blah blah.
You get the idea. If I hadn't already ordered a waffle, I'd have been out of there in minutes.
The kicker came when they asked our plans for the day (after telling us of their itinerary which involved naked boar wrestling or something along those lines).
"Well," I said, "we're going to a botanical garden and then to the Waipio Valley."
"Will you be hiking it? We are riding down on mules tomorrow. Bareback."
"Um ... no. No, we're just gonna look."
"Look?" they asked.
"Yup. And after, we're getting donuts."
"Donuts," they said, unable to hide their contempt.
Of course, I didn't tell them they were the sixth best donuts in the world. That they were hot and fresh and as close to fried dough perfection as man has achieved. And I certainly didn't tell them to stop by the Tex Drive In to see for themselves.
No, I respected them as the hard core adventurers they claimed to be. And I reveled even more in our mornings sleeping in, our leisurely drives, our days lazing on the beach, and most of all, in some fabulous mango donuts.