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Knappster: Maui wowie

By George Knapp

MAUI--Sitting in this airport bar, preparing to fly back to Las Vegas, it occurs to me that on my next vacation, I may choose to leave my arm at home. Readers of this column may recall that during my last exotic outing (an ill-fated jaunt to Mexico), a brief period of vacational sobriety resulted in a fractured elbow for Knappster. A year earlier, the same elbow had been broken during an unfortunate encounter with a skateboard, an event that also coincided with the beginning of that year's vacation. And in years gone by, it was this same elbow that was sliced to ribbons when it smashed through a window pane during a summer vacation.

The good news is, I didn't break my elbow on Maui. The bad news is that I was bitten by a pit bull. This blood-crazed hellhound must have heard the secret signal that seemingly emanates from my elbow and it drove him to temporary madness. I say "temporary" because we all know what sweethearts pitbulls really are. Perhaps it is the alien implant in my arm that sends out high-frequency commands to pitbulls, skateboards, and less animate objects, ordering them to attack my unfortunate limb. Whatever the reason, the arm is probably going to stay home the next time I go anywhere.

The dog in question chomped onto my elbow as I was walking off the Maui beach for the last time. He didn't break the skin, but just kinda hung there for a minute, growling with hungry delight. Nothing's broken, but the arm sure as hell is sore, which explains why I am seeking medicinal relief at this bar, and wondering to myself where Ed Bernstein and Carl Piazza were when I needed them.

Considering my perpetually sunny disposition, I am pondering the potential meaning of this encounter, looking for the hidden opportunity or silver lining. It occurs to me that perhaps this dog was trying to tell me something. "Stay in Maui," he must have growled and slobbered. "You belong here." Who am I to argue with Satan's housepet?

I don't need to tell you folks about Hawaii, or as the locals write it, Hawai'i. The place is paradise. My previous two visits to these islands were by no means pleasure trips, so there wasn't a lot of time for touristy things. This time was different. I never even saw anyone with a suit or tie. They don't even sell them here. My friend Mark arranged for the rental of a beach house near Paia, a little town far removed from the high-traffic tourist hotels and shops of Lahaina and Wailea. Paia is sort of a throwback, I am told, with a slower, quieter pace that has attracted surfers, assorted expatriates, and a generation of bong-toking whiteboy Rastafarians sporting dreadlocks worthy of Sideshow Bob and humming Bob Marley tunes.

I went ahead and bought some Maui Wowie. Oh yes indeedy. They were selling it pretty much everywhere here, and local lawmen (what few there were) didn't seem to mind. Actually, the stuff I bought was catnip, Meowie Wowie, to be specific, and yes, I knew what it was when I made the purchase. Without question, I will score major points when the Knappstercat herd gets a sniff of this herb.

The Viking has told me that she would be willing to move here from Las Vegas, but she isn't quite ready to live in a hut made out of sugar cane husks. How then can a person make a decent living over here? It occurred to Mark and our mutual friend Jeff, himself a news professional, that Maui has no TV news operation. Whatever local news these people get comes from faraway Honolulu. Hell, that's not local. These deprived natives need local news.

The reaction from Mauians to this plan of ours was one of skepticism. They've seen plenty of mainlanders come here with similar delusions. One guy who came and stayed is former Las Vegas casino executive John Miller, who spent 20 years in such places as the Golden Nugget and old MGM Grand, then cashed in his chips and headed for the islands. Keoni, as he is now known, thinks that moving here added ten years to his life. That sounds good to me as I approach another milestone birthday. But is there enough news to support a TV operation here? The Maui folks don't think so.

In their view, nothing much happens here. Maybe that's because no one is looking. Maui is experiencing many of the same problems that face Las Vegas. Its tourism figures are down. Room occupancy figures averaged about 80 percent last year and have suffered because of the war. They've had considerable growth here, with all of the related problems like traffic, solid waste disposal, water quality, and such. And say, does this sound familiar? Hawaiians are debating whether to raise taxes or slash government services even further as they grapple with a budget crisis.

Don't tell me there isn't any news over here. Any place that attracts so many visitors, that has so much development, so many hotels, so much money, so many big named celebrities and sports figures and millionaires, so many artists and musicians and creative types has got to be generating news. Lots of it. But perhaps it's like the old tree-falling-in-the-forest conundrum.

The larger problem might be whether I could ever get any work done here, whether there is news to be found or not. I had intended to call in to the Mike and Beth radio show while I was here, but never got around to it. Mark Twain wrote that the same thing happened to him when he came to Maui. His creative juices were kickstarted by the sheer beauty of the place, but that overwhelming magnificence has a way of sapping one's will to perform actual work. It seems far more appealing to crack open a cold one, then saunter down to the beach. The work can wait.

There is also the issue of bugs. They didn't bother me that much, but anyplace this green and moist is bound to generate all sorts of little critters, millions of who seemed to find the Viking's Norwegian blood to be quite the delicacy. We're talking about previously unknown species of mosquitos which were each the size of my Rolodex, along with spiders as big as weasels and ants that could kick the hell out of a good-sized poodle. Blood suckers, ear biters, toe nibblers, saber-toothed ladybugs, miniature buzzards feeding off our flesh, ticks and mites and assorted flying vermin, bugs that stalked the night like insectoid versions of Hannibal Lecter--they were relentless. Yep, we'll have to figure out a way of dealing with the bugs if we're going to move here. I will ponder these issues as we jet back across the ocean. It seems likely that I will think about it for a long time to come. Maybe the Mercury needs a Maui correspondent.

French-bashing redux

Those Americans who are still riled up about the French and their lack of support for the military campaign in Iraq will be interested in pondering the following. A few weeks ago in this space, we reported that the Clark County School District would soon face a multi-million dollar lawsuit over alleged bid-rigging. CCSD is getting ready to spend about $11 million on a new phone system, and the NEC company, which lost out in its bid to get the contract, alleges the district awarded the big project to a company which didn't deserve it. Here's the part that hasn't been reported before--the company that will sell all of the new equipment to CCSD is Alcatel, the French telecom giant. Concerned citizens are complaining to Knappster, asking what's wrong with phones that are made in America, and why isn't our school district buying American goods with our tax dollars?

Along the same lines, the RTC has approved a $10 million deal to buy French-made Civis buses for use locally. Understandably, some local taxpayers are upset about this, while the RTC says it would cost too much to switch to another system at this point. The RTC honchos should hear what some of their own mechanical experts have to say about the French buses. According to one of these high tech grease monkeys, the French bus "is a piece of crap." The expert says test data shows the computer-guided craft is "so dumb it doesn't know where the curb is." The source assures me his reticence concerning this bus has nothing to do with current animosity toward all things French.

And finally, do we want French technology being used to safeguard our nuke waste? The Department of Energy is getting ready to award a $30 billion contract for design work on the Yucca Mountain project. One of the three finalists for the contract is a French-German conglomerate. Heck, the DOE had better be careful. Giving out a huge contract like that the to French and Germans could result in bad publicity for the Yucca project. Boy, that's never happened before.