Captain’s Log: Part IIII (Fin)

• Lori Palminteri
• Uncategorized
• March 4, 2024

Day 20: It’s still morning on the south shore of Oahu. I’m surfing Moana Bowls, 3-5 foot swells. A rainbow extends from the land into the water. Quite literally, I am somewhere under the rainbow. I have to paddle in soon and finish packing my stuff for my afternoon flight to New York (where, I will land the following day due to the time difference). No question, my heart is a little sad. But there’s no point of being anywhere but the present for these two hours in the ocean, silhouettes of turtles in crystal blue water— Hawaii is such a place, I learned a decade ago, that when I leave I take a little part of it with me, only to leave a little bit of me behind in exchange. But I guess I’m getting ahead of myself here. Let’s rewind…

Day 15: Out there on the North Shore, Monday morning, I sat on my board in the lineup with a rain cloud over my head. Literally. It was raining. But I don’t mind the rain. It feels nice, and passes quick, and then you can usually see a couple rainbows. However, there’s a metaphorical cloud over my head as well. That morning I got a text from my boss of the radio company I worked for about jumping on a call. To say I was shocked would be a lie. Though I was sure hoping my pessimism wouldn’t be accurate.

The radio company was in financial duress as of last year (there were times I lamented and wrote about how they went months without paying me). A new company bought them out. Changes were made, budgets were cut, but as the written prep writer and producer, I thought I was one of the safe ones. I was fine after the first round of cuts. But round two would slice me out like the reef at Rock Piles sliced off a piece of my toe.

My boss was sympathetic and apologized. I know he did not want to let me go, along with others. He said if the opportunity to hire me back comes, he would, and would highly recommend me to next employers.

Fuck. Me. Well, I guess I’m officially on vacation in Hawaii. I tell my housemate I just lost my job and ask if I can borrow Truckie for the day (that’s the name of his beater truck). He generously gives me the keys, and I’m off to the North Shore. Grief, no one tells you, is a wheel. You don’t go from denial to anger to bargaining to depression and reach acceptance and that’s it. It loops back and forth. I’m sad, pissed and worried. I let some people know. I know the first step here is to let everyone I know I’m looking for work. My mom says, “something better is coming.” I don’t tend to believe such things.

I surfed Hale-iwa and then took a break and went to Pipeline to watch the really good surfers. If I wasn’t at the beach, it would probably be harder for me to find the silver lining in all this. My job was severely underpaid… but the flexibility and remoteness of it allowed to me travel (frequent trips to Florida, road gigs, Portugal, Paris and Hawaii), work other freelance writing jobs, and write my screenplays. All things must come to an end. Jobs. Holidays. Waves. People. Hell, even the stars and planets have expiration dates. I tend to believe things will get worse before they get better. That’s how life is. Comes and goes in waves, gets better, gets worse, ebb and flow.

The negative voices in my head are are distant, but I can feel them. I can feel their crass attitude, writing up their dour thoughts. It’s patient, this dark part of me. How we’ve both grown. It sits in the corner of the shadows, eyes glimmering with a fictional cigarette exhaling like, “have your fun now, you deserve this good time. I’ll be waiting for you in New York. Your panic and pathetic ponders are inevitable.”

Already, I can’t stand how the voice says, “you deserve this good time.” Knowing I’ve doubts that anyone deserves anything. I know what’s coming. I’ve been through it before. Having to figure out my life again is something I dreaded, though just the same if I knew exactly how my life would go, I’d likely lament the lack of surprise just the same. The world has ended for me before, though I take little comfort in knowing I can glue the pieces back.

I return to Hale’iwa for a second surf session. It’s too much fun. For the drive back, I take the long way home to go to drive by other parts of the island. On that side of the island, the mountains are greener. Blasting music, I did cry some and aired my grievances to Truckie. Cars are the best listeners.

DAY 16 & 17: On Tuesday, I surf and snorkel all day, basically. After I was on the phone with New York State of Health, sent out some resumes and contacted everyone for work. At some point during the day, I walked to the beach in just my board shorts, rash guard, snorkel and fins. I didn’t even bring flip flops because I was going to walk wayyyy down the beach, and then snorkel all the way back.

So I walk almost a half hour down the beach and go in the water near this jetty that I walk on and jump off the end of when I surf a spot called Kaiser’s. (Who is Keyser Soze? He is supposed to be Turkish. Some say his father was German. Nobody believed he was real.) It’s a bit windy at this point of the day, so the visibility isn’t super clear. While out in the water, a man, about 60, who looked like Milton from “Office Space,” bald, extremely freckly, and had a little bit of gut all while wearing the type of swimsuit Daniel Craig wore in “Casino Royale” (swoon), but this guy… well, let’s just say he’s no Daniel Craig, starts talking to me. He is a fellow sea turtle enthusiast and he starts talking to me about sea turtles. Oddly enough, this is not the first time in my life I’d had conversations with a random middle aged man in the ocean about sea turtles.

I tell him I’m going to swim to the other side of the jetty then swim down the beach. He says, “me too.” For sure I thought I’d lose him in the water because there’s a current beyond the jetty and I’m a pretty fast swimmer. But he was also fast, much to my surprise. It’s crazy being a girl in this world. Because I’m out pretty far, where random waves crash over shallow sharp reefs, where spikes of sea urchins the size of your head stick out, and there’s always the possibility of sharks but the thing I fear most is man. I’d feel safer with a shark, and statistically speaking, I would be safer with a shark.

Anyway, I spy an eagle ray. I signal to the guy so he can see it too. Now we’re bobbing in the water. He tells me it’s rare to see eagle rays in Hawaii. I’ve only seen one in the wild once before, in the Bahamas. He then says, “I’m really happy if you’re here with your HUSBAND. You know, that’s great. I’d be happy for you and your HUSBAND, but I live here and snorkel out here every day. Don’t usually have anyone to do it with, I’m just saying.”

Is this guy proposing to me right now? What the actual fuck is happening.

“By the way, I’m Bob.”

Okay, Bob. You proposed to me after knowing me for five minutes AND before telling me your name. I thought about telling him I’m gay and have a girl friend. I thought about telling him I had a husband, but he pissed me off so I cut him up and fed him to sharks. I thought about saying, “I’m recently unemployed, Bob. Do you have a pension? Are you rich? Do you want to get married and them go deep sea snorkeling with sharks? Pay no attention to this samurai sword I’m carrying. That’s to protect us from sharks. Not to slice you open so the sharks get you. ‘Oh no, my dear love Bob, who I just married, I loved his marshmallow body so much, I can’t believe we were just married and he was eaten by sharks.’ Oh well. At least I can remember him by owning his house in Hawaii.”

Instead, I said nothing. Because, I thought, that’s actually the weirdest thing I could do. I slowly put my snorkel back on and then went on swimming.

Fucking Bob. What a Bob.

The following day, I spent on the beach with one of my local friends, did some acid and spent the day swimming with the sea turtles, watching the clouds dance above Diamond Head and listening to jams.

Day 18: The only job I have now is on Thursdays when I submit jokes to Gutfeld for their “leftover jokes” section. If you watch the show, the reoccurring segment occurs every Friday where Greg reads the ‘leftover’ topical jokes for the week. I usually get a couple jokes on. If you remember in my first log, I won $400 during the Super Bowl and despite my sister’s wishes, booked a helicopter tour (my sister, who briefly lived in Hawaii, is terrified these things will crash… but I always wanted to be in a helicopter and what better place than Hawaii? Plus, if it crashes, I wouldn’t have to bother finding a new job!).

The helicopter DID feel like toy, or maybe a carnival ride. In fact, as soon as I’m buckled in, I’m surprised more helicopters don’t crash. This helicopter only seats 4. Doors off. I’m next to the pilot, this pretty cute Scandinavian looking dude. I wasn’t at all scared. It was beautiful up there. I spotted two whales breaching and told the rest of the people in the aircraft. It was dope. Actually, I felt extremely calm and relaxed up there. I’m floating above Neverland. I asked the pilot if he ever saw UFOs. He laughed and said no, but people mistake him for one sometimes.

[So those breaks down there are where I surfed, mostly. Moana Bowls, Rockpiles and Kaiser’s.]

[Can you hear the Jurassic Park theme in your head?]

Day 19: It’s now my last full day. I’m for sure bummed. I didn’t want to leave even when I had I job, now I had worry in my head, quickly spreading to a dread in my heart, a weight in my chest. Physically, besides being sore, I feel (and look) great. It’s amazing what three weeks of practically perpetually surfing, hiking/walking and swimming will do to your body. Sure I may be an unemployed loser at 34, but I’m a hot 34 year old! Pictures of my feet that are scuffed up from the reef are for sale.

[Lori Palminteri. 34.]

That day, Pele, the deity of the volcano, had blessed us with good waves. The waves were 3-5 feet and good all day. While it was best in the morning, I surfed three sessions that day. The sea turtles visited, as usual. It was too much fun. The greatest amusement part in the world is the ocean. Relishing each moment, I pushed my tanned arms to paddle for wave after wave. My hair is super blond now from so many days in the salt water. There is no moment of regret, now. Whatever roads led me here to this moment, right now. Had I not taken this trip and lost my job, which I would have either way, I would have said, “fuck, I wish I traveled when I had to opportunity to work from anywhere.” There is nothing that forces you into the present like surfing, because there’s nothing more you’d rather be doing. I’d be able to get one more session in the morning. And right then, I knew trouble and worries were in front of me, but let them be. Time will inevitably move, just like the waves. Just ride now, and enjoy.

That night, after packing most my things and cleaning, I walked around Waikiki. I got some drinks and poke. I walked down to Moana Beach, where I’d been surfing and a bunch of locals hang out. There, I bought some surf art from a local surf artist and professional surfer. Then, they offered me some beers and I chilled with them and watched the fireworks show. The pro surfer had some dude with him that was massaging him and aligning his back. I asked him if he would mind adjust my back (might be a little crazy to ask some dude don’t know to crack your back, but I needed it). Crunch, goes my back— it felt great. I’m happy, this night. The locals optimism is contagious. Laughing with these people I’ve never met before nor likely will ever see again. Talking about surfing and art, besides the ocean. They say I’m a “vibe,” but I think they are. Beaches, anywhere, give me a sense of belonging.

Tomorrow, I head home, to the island I grew up on. A place I love. Surely, I’ll always long for Hawaii. But if there’s any place to leave half your heart, I certainly cannot think of better. I promise to return, hoping it’s a promise I can keep.

“I think she was afraid to love sometimes. I think it scared her. She was the type to like things that were concrete, like the ocean. Something you could point to and know what it was. I think that’s why she always struggled with God. And I think that’s why she also struggled with love. She couldn’t touch it. She couldn’t hold on to it and make sure it never changed.”

― Carrie Ryan