For some reason I just wanted to put in something a little lighter than I have lately. Enjoy
Sometimes, people just have to put their foot in their mouth. Mostly by making comments or judgements without knowing the facts, or their audience.
A bunch of us were sitting having a couple of beers at the old “Sugar Bar”. A mile beyond Haleiwa, in the sleepy sugar plantation town of Waialua, locals gather at the Sugar Bar, in a building that formerly served as the Bank of Hawaii. They used the old bank vault as the liquor storage with a sign, “The Safest Beer in Hawaii” hanging over the door.
A big part of the Sugar Bar’s charm was the large outdoor deck with a few tables and benches. You could sit there, have a couple, and keep your bike in sight the whole time. A big plus.
So there I was, sitting next to my wife, minding my own business, when two bikini clad girls pull up in a rented convertible. They went into the bar, got their drinks and then walked out onto the deck.
These two fine young ladies were wearing very small bikinis, rubber slippers, and big smiles. They started talking with the bikers sitting there, asking about maybe a ride later, until one of them pops up and asks; “Anybody here know this fucker ‘Storyteller’?”
Of course, all heads turn in my direction so I answered, “Yeah I know him. Why?”
And away she goes. For all the things she accused me of, I’d to have been three guys working as a tag team to accomplish it all. She accused me of stuff that never even happened and shit I certainly wasn’t responsible for.
Everybody there had known Julie and me for many years so there was no doubt they all knew this broad was trying to make herself look like a real Hawaii biker woman.
She ended her tirade with what would happen if she ever ran into this “Storyteller”. She finally looked at me and asked; “How do you know him?”
Everyone sort of held their breath until I told her; “I’m married to his wife.”
Silence. Dead silence while she tried to sort this info out. I then stood up, reached out my hand and said; “Hi. I’m Storyteller, charter president of…”and I went through the entire formal biker introduction.
The two of them were dumbfounded to say the least. Then one of the other wives spoke up and said; “Honey. You best climb back in that Mustang and head back to your Waikiki hotel. You got no friends here.”
Appears I did.
But strangers aren’t the only ones that seem to be able to put their foot in mouth.
On the Waianae side of the island used to be a second floor restaurant called the “Fog Cutter”. Over the years the place went through several reincarnations, but was a favorite stopping place for bikers on their weekend ride.
Once again, I was sitting there with my wife, minding my own business when a couple we had met before walked in and sat down. Everything was cordial and friendly and really quite peaceful.
Then I made the mistake of asking a question. It seems both of the newcomers shared the same last name, but were not married or otherwise related, so I asked where did they meet. Seemed like an innocent question.
So the male half answered they had met at the Hawaii Yacht Club. Again, an innocent question, did they know “The club secretary, Elaine”?
And away we go. The female jumps up, literally, and starts telling me about “that red-headed bitch” and all the things she had done to them both and the members of the club.
She went on chapter and verse for about ten minutes and when she stopped she looked sidewise at me and demanded; “How do you know her?”
Julie by this time was trying to hide because she was sure it was about to get ugly. I looked at out two new friends and calmly responded; “She’s my mother.”
My mom had been the club secretary for over 22 years and had just recently retired to Las Vegas.
He looked over at a now very embarrassed companion and told her; ‘You just had to do it, didn’t you?”
I let her off the hook fairly easy, but never let her forget to check her brain before she opened her mouth if her old man was going to ride with me.
“Bear” was always claiming to be a member of the Anchorage Chapter of the HA. He had some tats, a prison picture frame made out of Popsicle sticks that said “HELLS ANGELS – ALASKA”. He was on parole and needed an address to report to his P.O. and I offered to put him up for a while. (Don’t remind me, he was one of the bad ones.)
This turned out not such a good idea and I asked him to leave; well really I just put everything into a garbage bag and threw it at him when he pulled into the driveway, and told him to leave. Told him not to say a word, just drive off. He wasn’t as dumb as I thought because that was what he did.
About four months later I get a visit from that friendly neighborhood ATFE (Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives Enforcement) agent asking me questions about “Bear” .
Seems some friends of his in prison got into a bit of a disagreement with some incarcerated members of a Viet Namese group. A week after one of the VN’s leaders got released, him and his car got exploded. Some pieces of the bomb casing were found and these pieces had Bear’s fingerprints on them. Then he very nicely explained that Bear had been under surveillance put had slipped away, did I think he had the expertise to make such a bomb?
I didn’t feel I really owed Bear any loyalty so I answered that he had often told me how good a bomb maker he was but I had never seen him make any. But he bragged about it all the time.
That was enough and the Fed went away, for about another three months. The second time he just called to tell me Bear had been arrested in Arizona trying to get into Mexico. Seems he paid for his trip down the west coast by robbing every gas station, motel, and convince store he stopped at from Anchorage to Flagstaff. So not only was he a parole violator, a felon with a weapon, armed during the commission of a felony, crossing state boarders to avoid prosecution, but he also had a large container of bomb making supplies in the vehicle, which was also stolen. Jackpot.
They made Bear finish his first sentence, and then he started to serve the other state and federal sentences. To my knowledge, he’s got two state sentences to finish and then he gets to start on the federal.
Hey, it coulda been life.
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