Home > fuck > The carpet is lava…literally

The carpet is lava…literally

I think it was when the volcano consumed my car that I finally had to admit I’d made a mistake by moving to the Big Island instead of Oahu. It did seem like a good idea at the time though. A three-bedroom house ten minutes from a black sand beach compared to some twenty–second story studio apartment in tourist central? The choice seemed so obvious to me when I was signing the deed, but now that I’ve had to evacuate my family to prevent all of us from being eaten alive by molten rock, my point of view has altered a bit. Magma can change a man.

I do understand that Kilauea has been erupting more or less non-stop since 1983, and it’s not like this is an isolated incident. But still, a studio apartment? I’ve got two kids! Just the thought of coming home to that chaos everyday makes volcano life charming by comparison. Factor in the real estate costs in Honolulu compared to Hawai’i, and I couldn’t see a reasonable alternative. I suppose the paranoia in my new neighbors’ eyes and my inability to secure any volcano insurance should have been red flags, but hindsight is always 20/20.

When the fissures along the mountain first cracked open and began their spewing, I was surprised but confident things would work out. I even took the kids on a drive up there to get a firsthand look, and they were thrilled, pressed against the windows. That excursion turned into the beginning of the end though, because I drove a bit too close to the flow, misjudging its speed, and that’s when we lost the car. The three of us narrowly escaped being inside when it happened, and my daughter was so traumatized by the experience that she’s been half-catatonic ever since. Her therapy bills will probably end up costing me more than the destroyed house did.

The irony of course is that now we’re temporarily living in a hotel just off Waikiki that’s two blocks from where the studio I was considering is located. Worse, I kind of enjoy this neighborhood. Yes, the tourists are annoying, especially the ones that won’t shut up about the volcano activity, but overall it’s been pleasant. Having virtually no possessions has proved problematic, that’s true, yet the sundries shop has kept us going. Even living in the confines of a hotel room hasn’t been as bad as I would have expected, though having one kid who’s more or less in a waking coma helps a lot with that. I guess this is where we belonged all along. It only took the Earth’s mantle destroying all I owned for me to realize it.

Categories: fuck
  1. No comments yet.
  1. No trackbacks yet.