The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

Imagine yourself thousands of miles from the next terra firma, on a small dot of land, warm breezes, almost a paradise. With active volcanoes towering above you from every point on the island. Welcome to Hawaii, the Big Island. Everywhere you go is evidence of the last eruptions, nothing but lava fields, some old, some new, some still venting sulfurous emissions, cars and houses incinerated, Danger Will Robinson, Danger!

Up above you the crater glows hellish orange after dark. Drive the highways and you’ll see mostly uninhabited lava beds. We’ve seen a couple of coffee tree groves and nut farms but not much agriculture. For that matter, outside tourism, not much business. I’m told 72% of the island’s employment works in government, schools, administration, fire, police, etc. I’m also told unemployment is rampant.

On top of that add the smoldering grievances of the native population, their land co-opted, their culture subverted, now relegated to essentially a service industry work force. Some of the high schools have a 30% graduation rate. Who needs an education when there aren’t many jobs that require one?

I know, I know, it’s just a vacation — I’m not searching for a place to live. But … I will say, the weather is perfect.

We’re camped in what most Americans would call the Life of Riley, a timeshare apartment in Kona, Hawaii. Swimming pools, movie stars, fancy eating table, clubhouse, golf courses galore, gated entries, high end shopping mall, spas — no need whatsoever to leave the elite compound of Hiltons and Marriots unless you’re crazy enough to venture out among the natives.

Sure, it’s wonderful to rub shoulders and elbows with the retired 1% and let the small army of service slaves trim the hibiscus, skim the pools, change the linens and attend to us and our three other friends’ every whim and need. After all, don’t we deserve pampering? We did, you know it, work those jobs that paid, oh, slightly more than menial labor. Hard jobs, stressful jobs. And do not give me that WOKE talk of white privilege!! You can’t guilt us anymore, especially not here in the land of the pampered few. Everybody had the same chance, says it right in the Constitution … or maybe the Declaration of Independence. What? You think Tom Jefferson or George Washington should’ve freed their help? C’mon, it’s a complicated world.

Right now we have housekeeping bringing in fresh towels and new sheets. Lap of Luxury, buddy. No way am I using my towel more than once or twice. Or a sheet that I slept in. Bring me a freshly laundered one. Is that too damn much to expect? The American Dream in a nutshell. Call me crazy but I’m bored out of my frigging mind. Should have learned to golf, I guess….