Salt Pond Beach is large and sunny; families barbecue, couples picnic, kids swim, and further down the park they're setting up the pavilion for a party. There's food, alcohol, a DJ, karaoke. I'm itching for an invite. Later, I'll find out it's a baby shower. Hawaiians know how to throw a party.
In one of the closer pavilions there's a big group of young people drinking and they invite us to join. They're an eclectic mix of young nomads and older street people; they hail from all different areas of the states.
I start chatting with 'Crispy.' We've only just started talking, but already he's insisting we come visit his secret campsite in the middle of the forest. "We don't usually allow any outsiders up there, but you guys seem really cool." Something's off.
When I misplace something, those around me become immediately defensive, even though I never suggested it was stolen.
Crispy warns us, "You can't trust anyone on this island not to steal your shit. I mean, everyone in this group is cool, but don't trust anyone else."
A few minutes later when I go to the tent to get a corkscrew for a couple of the girls, someone approaches Mike and tells him, "Yeah, people will act really nice to you, but once you're a few beers deep and out of sight of your tent, their buddies will be over there stealing your belongings."
As he is saying this we are currently:
a) With a group of strangers who are being extremely friendly
b) A little drunk
c) Out of eyesight of our tent
d) Noticing a few members of the group lingering around the camping area
Mike subtly excuses himself, then speed walks over to me.
"Maybe I'm being overly cautious," he says, "but my instincts are screaming that something is wrong."
We decide to err on the side of caution. At first, we think to lock our valuables in the car.
"Wait, what if that's what they're expecting us to do?" The car park is a distance aways and pitch dark. Paranoia is really setting in now.
We decide to put our most important items (passports, wallets, electronics) in a backpack and take turns wearing it all night. We subtly rejoin the group, trying not to let on to our suspicions.
The night continues and we have some laughs. One of the older guys corners me to tell me about his struggle with heroine addiction. I feel for him, but he hasn't even told me his name yet and my social anxiety is rising, so I excuse myself and go join the others by the fire.
I chat to the one guy in the group who seems the most down to earth. He tells me he hates the guy who was just talking to me. Someone else comes over and warns us not to trust this tall guy with a limp. Clearly there is some inner drama in this seemingly tight-knit group, as they begin to squabble amongst themselves over the remaining booze.
The final straw is when we overhear Crispy tell someone, "I love getting drunk and straight up lying to people's faces."
We make our exit.
Back in the tent, I wonder if we really were about to get ripped off by a bunch of gypsies or if we totally overreacted.* As I'm drifting off, it suddenly dawns on me that they had a lot of expensive steaks, imported rum and brand new cellphones...
*Our paranoia is eventually validated, but that's for another story...
~~~
The next morning is a bit uncomfortable, as we go out of our way to avoid the group. By the time we get our day going, most of them have cleared out of the park. We enjoy our first proper beach day - lay in the sun, snorkel, see some cool fish. When it begins to gently rain, I lay in the tent and devour a good book.
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