You Go to Hell, I’m Going to Hawaii

I’m back long enough to grab a few things, put the house on the market and leave a forwarding address for the kids when they come home from college. I left the back door open; you’re welcome to anything you want to scavenge.

I talked to the bartender at the Grand Wailea – a lot – and he says they’re always looking for “older guys” to work at the hotel because we’re “too old to steal and too scared to lie.” I’ve also got a line on an apartment sublet. If that doesn’t work, I can always sleep rough on the beach.

So long suckers, as my friend Danny Cohen used to say, I’m out of here.

– Austin irs debt kind