Someone Always Stops

(Week one in Maui)

          I couldn’t get over how pretty she was.  Her name was Kelsey, and she was a hippie from what I could tell, or at least a vagrant.  She had beautiful blonde hair, blue eyes, and was in very good shape.  Which surprised me, because she didn’t look like the type that exercised.  She was wearing a black tank top and camo shorts.  She was about 5’6 and had a very laid back personality.  The kind that screams out I just don’t give a fuck.  Her back seat was about as messy as my room at home, and had 3 cd cases filled with Reggae and hip hop music.  I don’t like either very much, but it added to her image.

          I was wearing a purple Sacramento King’s cap, a baby blue Hurley shirt, plaid Billabong shorts, and hiking shoes.  I could feel the outline of a mustache and beard growing on my face.  I had a complete absence of style.

           I put my head against the back passengers window, Rob calls it Cobain, and took the moment in.  She did have a lot of trash and random shit in her car, but something about it was welcoming and familiar.   She had a unique laugh that sounded like someone singing out of tune, and the stereotypical stoners voice. 

Kelsey first fell in love with Hawaii when she was 19.  A few years later she moved to Maui with the prospect of working to buy land.  Something about acres on a volcano being really cheap.  Who would’ve thought. . . Her best friend was with her up until January, when she ran off and got married.  From the sound in her voice to the look in her eyes, one could tell that life hadn’t gone exactly as she planned, but that she had long since been callused to the outcome.  She works on a farm in Hana, three days a week.

             Every so often I would ask her a question, just so she would have to turn around and match the smile on my face. 

              I shook my head; I learned the hard way that things aren’t always the way they appear to be.  It’s folly to assume that everyone is good-natured, and more than often enough people are in their positions for a reason.  I don’t truly trust a person until I’ve known them for a long time.  But I was grateful that she’s the kind of person that stops for hitchhikers.

             One hour later, we arrived at our destination.  She gave us each a big hug and a helpful hitchhiking tip someone always stops.  We told her we’d try and stop by the farm she works at, but we didn’t get around to it, and never saw her again.