Before I went to Vietnam, some friends talked me into going to the big island of Hawaii first. And from there flying to Vietnam. It had a good ring to it. Hitchhike around the big island for a couple of weeks before heading to my first foreign country.

I had forgotten though, how rusty my hitchhiking thumb was. That’s not because I’m predisposed to arthritis either. In my late twenties my hitchhiking adventures tapered off greatly then stopped.
I landed at the Kona airport at night, walked south towards Kona, and found a place to camp that wasn’t jagged lava rock. My first morning on the island I was woke by the bite of a centipede on my elbow. It felt like a hot fire flash through my arm with a pain a bit more intense than a bee sting. I don’t think I’ve ever woken up and gotten out of my sleeping bag faster than I did that day.
I remember my first day I met some hostile young locals. An extremely hostile homeless man who I thought was going to start fighting me. I got within 50 feet of “his spot” at a public park and said “Excuse me sir, you know what is down this way?”. But I finally found an OK couple of home-bums down along the beach that let me camp next to them.