Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
“What you say?” She demanded, not understanding. “You say something bad?” Her eyes
glowed like a cat's. “You better grow a beard to fix your face, you fuckin' ugly bald man!
You better grow a big beard to make better your ugly bald head!”
I looked at her in disbelief and burst out laughing.
“Oh Helena, you have no idea how glad I am we went on this trip. You are easily the worst
woman I have ever met in my life! In fact, I have to say this to your face: I thought you
were quite pretty, but you are actually just a common bitch!”
“Fuck you, you horrible man!” She spat, throwing her used cigarette butt dramatically into
the water.
Never before or since have I ever had such an ugly encounter with a woman! I was nettled
at her cutting remarks about my baldness. This was a natural defect, and in my book of
social and personal ethics, it was strictly taboo. Seeing her true colors like this, I felt com-
pletely justified in flinging back at her just what she was flinging at me. I had never met a
human being as incompatible as her.
While on the subject of flinging, Déjà vu had just bumped hurriedly up against the wooden
dock at Opua right next to the sailing club. Hardly had the boat stopped moving, when
Helena rushed at the landing steps and scrambled up, still yelling obscenities at me in her
shrill Hungarian voice. I grabbed her suitcase and other bags and flung them with all my
might over the dock where they rolled about on the splintery, dirty, old planks.
“Good riddance to bad rubbish!” I yelled after her as I pushed off. There was a little crowd
that had gathered and had observed with great humor the sordid ending of the weekend
from hell.
That evening, a Sunday as I well recall, I went back to the club bar to have a much needed
drink. I was met by a group of grinning sailors who had heard all about our fracas. When
I related to them her remark about needing to grow my beard to “fix my ugly baldness,” it
was received with gales of ribald laughter and merriment. I was almost hoisted up on their
shoulders as they plied me with great tankards of ale and insisted on me telling them all the
details once again. For weeks after that they would peal with laughter as they reminded me
to grow my beard!
Another good thing that came of that miserable weekend was Warren offered me a job with
his crew of carpenters. They were working on a huge, double story wooden house on the
cliff overlooking Opito Bay in the Bay of Islands, and so I happily entered the next phase
of my stay in New Zealand.
