Tour de Force

"I'm not doing one of those ship excersion's," snapped Ross. "They charge twice what everyone else does. We'll find one on shore and save money."
My heart sank. We got off the ship at Hilo, a port on the Big Island. We chose a hippy-like American with long grey hair tied back in a pony tail and a battered straw cowboy hat.
"Yawl have a good time with us," he enthused. "And we'll start just as soon as we've sold the other 6 places on the bus."
Half an hour later he sold us on to another company, unable to fill his bus. It was obviously some kind of holding area for stray tourists.
Our new guide, Tommy, was a 7 foot tall Hawaiian with a giant mop of hair. Not wanting to waste our day, or antagonise him, we meekly climbed into the mini bus.
Tommy must have either read and digested every book about Hawaii ever written, or had a wildly creative imagination. He was an expert of everything, from wildlife and botony to history and fables. And the stories. We must have heard every ancient legend ever handed down since the year 1,200. Twice.
One passenger commented that we were getting so much information that we could probably claim college credits.
As our 4 hour tour turned into 6 1/2 hours, we saw Mount Kiliuea from the top, waterfalls, plus of course the obligatory factory shop stops. Big Island Candies, Mauna Louy macadamia nuts and an orchid farm. Of course we were annoyed to be forced to stop at these less than educational stops, but it would have been impolite not to buy at least one thing from each one, so we did.
By the end of the day we were losing the will to live. We were seated at the back of the minibus, and Ross stretched out to go to sleep. Anyone who went to ask a question was shushed by their companions as the minutes passed by.
We had to run away from Tommy as he embarked on a lengthy Hawaiian farewell as the ship was preparing to leave.
"The good news is I'm starting my own tour company soon," he called out to us. "So be sure to look me up when you return to Hawaii!"