Hawaiian vacation, day 10

My favorite memory from my first Maui trip (1973) is of a dog.

Dad was driving us down some side street while Mom looked at a map (yes, kids, that's what people did before GPS). As we rolled along, we came to a Golden Retriever lying across the middle of the road. The street was narrow, with no way around him.

So Dad drove on, figuring at some point the dog would get out of the way. No such luck. He was, apparently, quite comfortable.

As we approached, Fido raised his head off the ground to look the car over... Then put it back down.

Dad stuck his head out the window and yelled. No response.

He honked the horn several times. Fido's left ear twitched.

Finally, Mom got out of the car and went around to nudge him. He rolled over on his back with an "OH BOY! YOU'RE GOING TO RUB MY BELLY" look.

Finally, Dad gave up. He backed slowly out of the side street and turned around to find another route. My sister and I watched as a bird landed on the sidewalk and Fido took off after it.

As it turns out, this is pretty much the way dogs are on Maui. Nothing fazes them. No matter how laid back you think your dog is, a dog on Maui will make him seem high-strung. They are remarkably mellow. The scuba place we dived with had a dog named Sarge, who pretty much had the run of the strip mall.

He spent the day wandering around the parking lot and in & out shops there, and no one cared. In fact, he seemed to have a small fan club, like the postman and others, who tossed him treats as they went by.

Equally important, he also provided surrogate dog services to people whose pets were back home. And was more than happy to do so.

Marie and Sarge. He looks vicious, huh?

After scuba diving, Marie asked if we could go to Subway for lunch. Marie's favorite sandwich there (roast beef, tuna, and cheese) always raises a few eyebrows.

Counter lady: "What can I get you?"

Marie: "I'll have roast beef and tuna, with cheese."

Counter lady: "Sorry. Can't do that. It's against company policy to combine roast beef and tuna."

Marie: "But I get that at home"

Counter Lady: "Well, they should know better."

Marie: "You can't do it?"

Counter Lady: "No. It's probably a health code violation or something, too."

Marie: "Let's go, Daddy."


We ended up down the street at L&L for a plate lunch.This is a Hawaiian thing. Regardless of what you order, it always comes with 2 scoops of white rice and one of macaroni salad.

Down the street from our condo is a restaurant with the unusual name of Slappy Cakes. This immediately brings to mind an image of getting smacked by the hostess when you go in.

Curious, I looked them up online. The theme is that you cook your own pancakes. I, personally, have never understood this concept. If I'm going out to eat, I'm paying for you to make it for me. I'll stay home if I want to cook.

The setup consists of a large griddle set in the middle of each table, making me imagine someone getting 3rd degree burns while passing the syrup. Their menu, however, does list the admirable feature of serving cocktails at breakfast for those who like to watch Matt Lauer while blitzed. One is called the "Slappy Screw," which sounds like something a guy would spend $50 on in the Honolulu red-light district.

They also feature such heart-healthy fare as chicken-fried bacon and pork-belly benedict. Like every place here, they also have a Loco Moco (called the Slappy Moco). This is a pile of white rice, with a hamburger patty on top, then mushroom gravy, then a fried egg.

At the bottom of Slappy's menu is this great "We told you so, so don't sue us" legal disclaimer:

Tabletop griddles are hot! Please use carefully at your own risk. For safety reasons, children must stay seated and not reach across griddle. 

Because, you know, small children ALWAYS do exactly as they're told.


This afternoon, while hanging out in the lobby, Frank wandered over to one of those tourist brochure displays. After a few minutes he pulled one out, brought it over to me, and asked "Dad, can we go to this luau?"

Dude. I'd be staring, too.

This is part of the fun of traveling with teenage boys. Pretty much EVERYTHING gets their attention. Even ceiling lights.

And that's the lei it is.


Disclaimer - none of the above restaurants paid me to write about them. But I am, however, for sale. Someone, please, buy me.