Brent Bielmann, Laserwolf, And More At Slowtide’s Haleiwa Photo Show
We missed the tacos, drank the beer, at Malcolm Campbell’s Haleiwa Bottle Shop
We arrived at Slowtide’s Island Fever photo exhibit two hours late, on account of Morgan Williamson’s fondness of chips and salsa. As the clock wound from 6 to 7 to 8 to 9 PM, Morgan feasted on his Mexican snack without concern for the rest of our wants and desires. It wasn’t until Ashton called Morgan for the 35th time that a bloated, salty-fingered Mr. Williamson came to pick us up in the rental van. And off to Haleiwa we went.
I went straight for the tacos. Rushed past the world-class photography and plopped myself in line for food. The photos aren’t going anywhere, I thought to myself. Tacos, on the other hand, are a finite resource.
My decision proved to be a clever one, as the meat supply was dwindling and I was one of the last people to receive food. My co-workers, who are less savvy in regards to taco procurement, attempted to fill their tummies with complimentary Coors Light and wine. A fun but ultimately futile endeavor.
Eventually, I went to inspect the artists’ work. Photos from Brent Bielmann, Brandon “Laserwolf” Campbell, John Hook, Keoki Saguibo, Kelia Moniz, Alana Spencer, Evan Mock and Brooke Dombroski adorned the walls, setting the scene of a wild Hawaiian dreamscape. The shots were incredible, but a man can only survive so long without a cold beer in hand. For reasons of status or spillage the gallery approved only of wine, so I drifted back outside where my friends had hit a solid-8 on the Hungry Meter. Their lackadaisical approach to taco procurement was coming back to bite them.
“Ok, that’s it,” declared a furiously famished Rory Parker. “We’ve gotta go get some food or I’m going to kill someone.”
After a few unsuccessful attempts, we resigned to the fact that everywhere was closed other than McDonald’s (which we wish we’d thought about after the whole Stewgate debacle at Surfer Poll left us empty after midnight).
I can’t help but think that my tummy’s morning ache can be directly attributable to Morgan and his goddamn tortilla chips.
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