John and I went on a retreat with our church young adults group this weekend. We went over to the island of molokai, a small island off of Maui, where about 7,000 residents live. It's the island with the leper colony, which is pictured below.
Well anyway, it was beautiful. We had heard about this famous molokai bread, but to get the fresh "hot sweet bread" you have to go between 10pm and 2am. A bunch of us decided to go check it out. We get there by way of riding in the back of some old pick up truck (i didn't realize that people still used the back of trucks to transport people, but here in hawaii they do) and drive up to the main town road and walk down this alley way. Once there we see a bunch of people standing in the bread line. It's a totally creepy alley with graffitti and run down buildings.
To place your order you have to wait in this bread line and every few minutes a small hawaiian lady will open the door and ask what kind of bread you want, then she shuts the door. In a few minutes she'll come back and get your money and go back inside. Then after a few more minutes the lady comes back with part of your order. Finally, it takes another few minutes for her to complete the order.
By now, it is like 1am and we are patiently waiting in line. We had a pretty big order of bread to take back to the people who did not come. So, we wait and wait and we finally get to the door and place our order. They are running low on bread and we have to cut our order short.
We finally get our bread when the local hawaiian boyz show up in there hawaiian tattoos and big trucks, and let me tell you, these guys are big boys. When they go to get their bread there is none left, and they are not too happy. They start cussing us and reving up their big trucks; they spin their tires leaving us in the tire smoke and drive off.
Okay, by this point I am scared. I quickly started walking with the guys in our group that were not "houlie's" ( what the locals call white people). I figure if I am walking back to the truck with them then I will be less of a target for the hungry hawaiian boys. I just knew we were going to be bread jacked. Well, we make it back to the pickup truck and head back to the retreat. As we turn into the parking lot we pass the hawaiian boyz who are just outside the property. They are yelling and cussing at us in their pigion language. We finally make it to bed and fall asleep to the sounds of revving engines and squelching tires.