Brett Returns to Kick Off a Long Weekend

This is going to be an epic weekend, and I mean that in the way Homer or Virgil did. And if you’re asking “Homer and Virgil who?” I don’t know their last names, but c’mon. Really?

I was going for artsy.

I was going for artsy.

It all started with a game in Waipahu yesterday after school. I had never been to the school’s baseball field and missed the turn to access the unpaved road which leads to the field. How did I miss the turn? Well, it’s kind of an abrupt and subtle turn, but also I am horrible with directions. No, not just on the roadways, but directions in general. I think I overthink things. Or, I throw away the wrapper before I look how long I have to heat the food up. “How long do I have to put this in for?” I’ll ask Lynnette, with the microwave door ajar. “What did the directions say?” she’ll ask. That’s when I’ll go back into the trashcan and look for the item I disposed of prematurely. I feel like she could just tell me how long, but she revels in teaching me a lesson. I haven’t learned this one yet, and I never remember to wear a shirt while frying bacon, either. But if you want to have an intellectual conversation about Heart of Darkness? I’m your man.



I arrived home to an empty house, save for Abby. I had hoped that I would get to see my girls then, but I can’t blame them for going on a girls’ night. They probably ate some kind of food that will succeed in making me jealous. I don’t always go out, but when I do, it’s usually because someone’s back in town. Brett’s home for about a week, but that doesn’t include next weekend, sadly. Consequently, last night was the only night I’d have to go out and able to limit the regret and pain I would feel if I tried a stunt like going out on a weeknight. See, the thing you have to know about Brett is that a BBQ in the garage won’t do. He lives his life by a simple credo: chickschickschicks. The all-knowing Brent Limos suggested Rakuen for our get-together. See, the thing you have to know about Brent is that he’s like Yelp, but only for places that are packed with people and serve copious amounts of adult beverages. He’s a savant, really. The DJ at Rakuen ran the gamut of old-time pop and hip-hop. The conversation between Cruza, Brett, Limos, and me was built upon pseudo-critical appraisal of the music section. Long story short, it was as if the DJ looked around the room and estimated that the average age of attendees was 35. He then clicked into some kind of data base for just that demographic and well, there you go. What I’m trying to say is of course we felt the beat of the rhythm of the night.

Brothers can't shake hands, brothers gotta take shots.

Brothers can’t shake hands, brothers gotta take shots.

Paul was already at Rakuen with friends when I arrived with Matty. I enjoy these moments with my brothers. We rarely get to hang out outside of our Sunday lunches, and it is quite a mind-eff to be in a bar and realize that Paul is the coolest of the three of us. Back in his high school days, I never could have imagined a scenario, but stranger things have happened: Matty has a college degree. I can’t complain, there are worse things in the world than being “Paul Higa’s brother.” I particularly enjoyed the process by which the three of us decided what to drink. Matty absolutely will not drink tequila, Paul doesn’t like Crown Royal, and I won’t drink anything prominently featuring the first and last name of a man. None of us, however, have any problems with alliterative, colored birds.

The low light is probably for the best.

The low light is probably for the best.

Cruza, Brett, Limos, and I ended the night at Manifest where one of us Jedi mind-tricked the guy at the door to let us in without having to wait in line. These are the guys you’re looking for. *waves hand in front of face* Anyway, we met up with Dave and Matt, two of Matty’s classmates. I was pretty tired by then, but I remember two things distinctly. The first is that Dave and I took turns politely Ric Flair chopping each other. The second is that it was really, really crowded. I suppose, though, that was just a warm up for this evening. After Mr. Higa finishes as a proctor for the entrance exam, he will go home and turn into Coach Phil and head to a game in Wahiawa. Finally, Phil and Lynnette and Madison will head down to the Punahou Carnival where I will no doubt have to shuffle sideways between the sea of humanity while in constant fear of spilling my drink all over myself or someone else.


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