Time’s fun when you’re having flies.
– Kermit the Frog
Top Five Ideas People Have Given Me for My “Goodbye” HG Column
1. A big, long thank you letter to Maui with specific shout-outs to all the friends, fans and acquaintances made during my tenure as HG columnista.
2. Divulge all my secrets. Clean out my closet. Make a final, shocking revelation. (Um, yeah… what’s left? That I’m actually a 54-year-old man who lives in Trenton, New Jersey? Oh, oops…)
3. My own Eh Brah: the frustrations I’ve experienced not only with writing this column but also with covering “nightlife” on an island with irrational, superfluous rules and regulations mixed with the depressing apathy of its inhabitants, and the resultant ridiculous expense of going out at night, and the not having of live shows of contemporary mainland artists.
4. Print my photo.
5. TIE: Best moments in HG history. Or my so-called Valedictorian speech.
Top Five Reasons Why I’m Starting to Get Excited About the Move to SF
1. Late-night taquerias in the Mission.
2. The presence of an independent bookstore and a female-run peep show on the same block.
3. Si*Se, Bitter:Sweet and Colin Hay, all live at the Independent the first week I’m there.
4. Getting a proper Bloody Mary at Club Deluxe, martini at Gold Cane and pitcher of beer at Zeitgeist.
5. My future rockstar day job.
Top Five Reasons This Week Why I’m Sad to Go
1. Driving down the one-lane highway from my place in Haiku or Pukalani or Lahaina, admiring the gorgeous shoreline and—although diminishing, still present—expanses of green land (or charred land, if on the Westside) and sugar cane fields, drinking strong Kona coffee, arriving to work in my low lit, red-curtained office piled high with books and CDs sent by publicists in need, checking out my full calendar and setting priorities for the day, checking my emails and answering quests and invites, wondering which awesome local musician or artist or sandcastle builder to write about next, then deciding to write about the culture of bilingual porn in my column instead…
2. The bartender chicks at David Paul’s. (And that ridiculously delectable light coffee-Cabernet demi-glace on the rack of lamb. Oh, and the Triple Berry Pie.) The hot chef at Spago Wailea. (And anything he wants to cook up and hand-deliver… uh, to my table. Geez, people!) The Taste of Chocolate at Wailea Film Festival. Sushi and weird whiskey at Hirohachi. The wooden nickels at Sly Mongoose. And, of course, the old-school (I did NOT say “old”) regulars there. Drinking $150 bottles of wine on the beach at sunset. Eating mangoes from the backyard over the sink.
4. The Boyfriend. And his calling me “cupcake” ‘cause that’s what his grandpa called his grandma. The friends—or, at least, the ones who are still talking to me. Maybe even the friends who aren’t still talking to me (okay, especially them). The ex-boyfriends (but only a little). The co-workers. The former co-workers. All the musicians, chefs, artists, writers and DJs I’ve crushed on over the past 10 years. The beautiful bohemian buttheads who shop at Mana. The tall, dark and handsome suits who take breaks at Cafe Marc Aurel. People who speak “bank” aloha. Anyone who’s smiled at me and really, truly meant it.
5. You. Most of all.
Samantha Campos spends too much time reading the graffiti in public restrooms. MTW