Friday, February 26, 2010
Why I Still Hate Yanni
Years ago my wife and I went camping on Catalina Island. Now this was shortly after returning from living abroad. We were both in pretty good shape and liked hiking and outdoor stuff plus we didn't have any kids yet. We took a boat over to the island from the mainland to Two Harbors and then took a bus to the campsite. What a bust that place was. The water tasted like chlorine (it was treated rainwater). The sun was so intense that whole week that we had to build a shelter next to our tiny pup tent. Now the brochure had promised that every campsite had a palm tree-they just didn’t tell us that ours was only about 2 feet tall and useless for shade. We ended up actually building shade out of spare wooden pallets.
Things were going along OK The diet was pretty lean, consisting many of rehydrated foods and good coffee (we brought along one of this little espresso makers). We actually ended up hiking back into town and bringing some decent water back, lugging it on our backs. So things were going just great (well OK) until Yanni and his love interest rolled into camp. I mean literally rolled because they came by bicycle (motor vehicles are prohibited on the island). I immediately nicknamed him Yanni because he had that doofus-looking long girly hair and was also all buffed-out like a rock star. He liked to strut around topless too, flexing his muscles.
Yanni and the Mrs both had those sidesaddle panniers on their bikes just packed with gear and goodies. We watched them set up from a safe distance. Yanni had a much bigger tree-enough to shade his walk-in tent. Yanni’s love interest soon disappeared inside the tent (no doubt primping herself for a romantic evening) while he set about preparing a fine meal.
“WTF did he just pull out of those panniers? Was that a steak?” my wife remarked. It was. That Yanni had thought of everything. Fresh vegetables even. Then out came a bottle of wine, and a corkscrew! After he prepared the meal, Yanni disappeared into the tent for the night. No doubt for a major seduction scene.
The next morning Yanni re-emerged topless from the tent to cook his lover breakfast (we never did see her until they packed up and left later on that day). Once again he dipped his hands into the bottomless panniers "Are those eggs? is that bacon?" soon came the laments. Oh well, at least we had our good coffee. And reconstituted refried beans and rice.