bad juju

The day we arrived in Hawaii, Rudy’s son, Jeff took us to the beach by his house. We watched the surfers, met Charley Woofer, the famous Great Dane and I took loads of pictures. As we wandered along the beach, Jeff said, “One thing to remember in Hawaii. Don’t pick up anything from the beach… no rocks, no shells, nothing. It’s bad juju.” Rudy and I looked at each other and I could see it in his eyes! His rebellious streak was showing. He restrained himself and didn’t pick anything up. Well, at least, not then.

On Wednesday, Jeff and Sarah took us to the lava fields to watch the sun set on the beach. I noticed Rudy bending over and I watched him as he picked up a small, black piece of rock. I flashed him my best “no no no look” and he flashed me his best devilish smile.

The next morning Rudy and I drove to the hotel on the other side of the island where we spent the last three days. It was glorious. We wandered around Lahaina, exploring shops, beaches and restaurants. We saw hula dancers, birds, geckos, fish and adorable children everywhere. We talked to Hawaiian natives and tourists from all over the world. We went to a luau of course. On the way home from the luau we were waiting at the elevator talking to a young couple with a one month old baby who was clearly finished with Hawaii and registering his complaint. Rudy and I stood back and let the frazzled parents get on first. I followed. Slam! The door closed on me, bruising my right arm and wrist and knocking my skull from one side to the other. I saw stars, literally. I staggered for a while and my poor husband kept asking, “Are you sure you’re okay?” I wasn’t sure but I soldiered on.

Next morning we were eating breakfast and the room began to move. I looked at Rudy; he looked at me. “Earthquake?” I whispered. He nodded. I was glad. I thought it was damage to my brain from the elevator. It was only a 3.8 earthquake but it was an earthquake! That was also the day Rudy dead bolted our hotel room door from the inside and we had to wait while three housekeepers and a security man unlocked it.

On Sunday we flew from Maui to Honolulu happy and tired and talking about the “next time in Hawaii.” It was raining in Honolulu and as we were getting off the plane I noticed our luggage sitting on the tarmac. I said, “Look Rudy! Our luggage.”

In Honolulu we had a 3 hour layover. We ate, chatted, I drank Starbucks eggnog latte and the time crept up on four hours. The airline official said there were a few small technical problems with the plane’s lights and we would be late departing. Lights? They expected us to believe it was something wrong with the lights? Finally we boarded. The lights looked perfectly fine to me.

About an hour into the flight the attendant made an announcement. “If you are feeling ill please let us know right away. Is there a doctor or EMT on board?” A doctor or EMT? There was a doctor and he joined the attendants in the galley where they were caring for a man who was not feeling well. Not feeling well with WHAT? Several people around us quickly donned masks. We had no masks! Who thinks to take masks to Hawaii? Apparently several people around us. The doctor stayed with the man for the rest of the flight.

We arrived home about 11 pm. It was pouring rain and cold. Rudy grabbed two of our suitcases off the carousel right away. They were easy to recognize from the bright yellow bandannas I had tied on the handles. Then we waited while all manner of luggage rolled past but no more yellow bandannas. At midnight the carousel was empty and we were a suitcase short.

The nice lady from baggage claim said, “Come with me.” She was pulling two suitcases someone had obviously not claimed. I wondered why. Didn’t they recognize their own luggage? We followed her to her office where she asked for our baggage claims.

“Mr. Stolz,” she said, “you are in luck! This is your luggage.” She handed Rudy one of the bags she had been dragging. The bandanna had come off. “Now will you need a taxi?”

“No, we are parked in self parking.”

“Oh my! I think all the buses stop at 1 am. It was quarter to 1.

The one bus driver at the curb said he was not going to self parking. Tired, bedraggled, soaking wet and frazzled, we stood and looked at him. “Okay! Okay!” ” he said. “Get on!” I had the distinct feeling we weren’t really welcome on his bus. There was one other lady on the bus, bundled against the cold. As the bus lurched away from the curb two of our heavy suitcases slid off the rack and smacked into her left leg. I could see big problems in our future. “Naw, I’m all right,” she said, as we dragged the bags off her. We dropped her at the employee’s parking lot and circled the airport, happily on our way to self parking.

“So where’d you park?” asked the driver.

I looked at Rudy and he looked at me. “Rudy, it’s been 8 days! I was hit in the head by an elevator, remember?”

“You don’t know where you parked? Where’s your ticket?” barked the driver.

“In the car,” said Rudy. I had to laugh. I just had to.

I remembered we had parked by a pick up point and row by row the bus driver searched the parking lot. “Here?”

“Not here.”

“Here?”

“Not here.”

Suddenly it was right in front of us. “There!” I said.

The bus driver grabbed our luggage and threw it in the trunk. I honestly think he was happy to get rid of us.

At home we unloaded the luggage and took it all in the house. We were extremely surprised when we discovered the luggage and all the contents were soaked! Soaked! And then I remembered they had been sitting on the tarmac in Honolulu in the rain. As I began to unpack I found a small black rock in Rudy’s overnight bag. I waved it at him! “Bad juju!”

“You don’t really believe that do you?”

“Of course I don’t. I am a reasonable woman. I am not superstitious.” But still… I put his small black rock on his book shelf.

The rest of the story is simple. I went to the hospital December 23 and was released about 7 pm Christmas Eve. Christmas went well except I took lots of pictures and then pushed the wrong button and zip… I lost them all! All! And of course we lost our major gift for granddaughter, JoJo and my daughter lost a gift she had bought for Rudy but that wasn’t such a big deal. Strange, but not a big deal.

But tonight Rudy is at work and I stuck a small load of laundry in the washer. I was on the sofa, reading when I heard it! Kerflunk, kerflunk, kerflunk. It sounded as if the clothes were kind of off loaded in the washer. Wrong! I listened as the washer moaned, whimpered and… died!

I am currently tearing through closets looking for a box the size of a small black rock! It should be back in Hawaii in a couple days and Rudy will never miss it. .