Of fleas and pigskin

6 January, 2007

Today was to be the day that everyone kept speaking of. No, not the rythmic cerimonial ritual of old, but the day for the International Marketplace that was in the parking lot of the Aloha Stadium, better known for hosting the Pro Bowl the week after the Superbowl.

The great White Whale was surely dieing to her harpoon wounds, but we struggled along and made it to the parking lot. From there, we were chartered only with our return time, and were set loose to run amuck in the capitalist depravity that this nation is so fond of.

I remember looking at three booths, and nearly every one after that was nearly identical. While my compatriots purchased shirts of T for friends back home, I did not. Mainly because I never liked doing that, and secondly, I no longer had the room in my minimalist suitcase, which was more like a miniature duffle bag. The only thing that I purchased while here were malasadas, a type of Portugese donut. While I ate these, I remember commenting about how many of the shirts of T had marijuana leaves on them, which was quite ironic considering if anyone were to wear one of these they would instantly be targets for the police, or fuzz as some refer to them as.

As I continued to walk around, I bought some shaved ice with banana flavor, which was quite refreshing. After this, I decided to head back to the Great White Whale, and rendevoused with the other members. Many of them had purchased items of some what questionable usefullness, but who was I to point out their foolishness, I had bought more malasadas and was enjoying them.

We quickly made our way back to the hotel in order to go to a local restaurant to watch the Professional Football game. This restaurant was called Lulu's, and after ordering the Magnum P.I. burger, which was enjoyable since it came with bacon, and having the classiest of beverages, a Pabst Blue Ribbon, we watched the game between Dallas and the Seahawks. Now this was quite the situation. Seeing as how I hark from the Houston area, I've never cared for Dallas; something to do with their strange engineering techniques or their lack of wanting to cover a hole in the roof, I'm not sure which. But seeing as how the Professor was rooting for Dallas, and since I didn't care for the Seahawks either, I merely watched the game and laughed at the divided restaurant cheer and jeer for their chosen team.

I remember several bouts of bad noise, and after a botched field goal attempt by Romo, the game was over. I remembered that i had to do some laundry, so I walked back to hotel among the strange street performers. After seeing these strange bastards for a week, and after wondering if the Copper Cowboy was indeed made of copper, I threw a penny at his face in hopes that it would some how fuse with the rest of his copper parts. But, the penny merely bounced off, proving that he indeed was not made of copper. However, I will say this about the strange cowboy, the penny bouncing off of his face didn't phase him in the least, and for that, I tip my proverbial hat to him.

The laundry room was full, so instead of doing laundry, I went back to the room and again watched the comedic exploits of Dog the Bounty Hunter. The next day was to be one of our last free days, and we still had no real plans for what was going to happen. Indeed, it would be an epic journey of discovery just to find out what we would do the next day.