Richard Moore: My tropical haven

As you read this I will have been chilling out on a photographic mission in the Cook Islands for the past 10 days.
Rarotonga and Aitutaki, to be precise.
They are little dots of land in the mighty Pacific Ocean and, if you want the general direction, it's head towards Hawaii and don't fly anywhere near so far.
Aitutaki should not be confused with Arataki.
Instead of the litter-strewn streets of one of my favourite suburbs of Tauranga, Aitutaki is a stunning atoll with a breathtakingly clear lagoon.
I've never been there before but the thought of blue skies, bluer waters and mooching about with cameras in hands on a tropical island really, really appeals.
It may be so gorgeous there I may not even reboard the plane back to the Land of the Long White Shroud.
No, you're not that lucky ...
Anyway on the flight home I'm hoping I will not encounter the disgusting Kiwi bloke who was so intoxicated he urinated in the middle of the aisle on a Jetstar flight to Singapore.
In the process, he splashed his goodwill on to a male passenger and soaked a woman's scarf.
Now I'm not exactly sure what I would do on a flight if I found someone else's warm wee hitting me.
I like to think I'd shrug it off as another interesting experience in life, however, I think that would be pretty unlikely.
Certainly I'd be hollering for a sky marshal while summoning the hostie for another bot or two of champers. Later on, Weeing Wally may get back a taste of his own medicine.
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They say America is the land of opportunity and, being a Yankophile, it is hard to disagree with the sentiment.
Americans have a can-do attitude that makes their country the perfect place for entrepreneurs - you know the guys that George Dubya Bush said the French didn't have a word for.
They have millionaires by the boatload, their culture is copied around the globe and - let's give them credit - they even put men on the moon.
Okay, they do tend to like invading other people's countries and it is true they do vulgarise icecream, however, overall, they are the sort of get-up-and-goers that Kiwis could learn a lot from.
Such as the 8-year-old boy in New York who sold his father's loaded gun to a fellow third-grader.
You can imagine his dad wasn't pleased - the guy ended up being arrested for his son's efforts - and all for a measly US$3.70 ($4.44).
Hmm ... mebbe they're not all meant to be entrepreneurs.
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Working for the Department of Corrections is not really a job that grabs the imagination.
For starters, prisons give me the heebie jeebies.
They smell funny. Sort of like hospitals, but without cute nurses running around the place.
They're also home to an awful lot of people I'm not the slightest bit interested in meeting.
What do a mass murderer and I have in common? Don't answer that ...
Mind you, one of the positives about working behind bars would be the fact they are now completely and utterly smoking-free.
Since June 1, prisoners have not even been able to buy tobacco, cigs, lighters or matches so they wouldn't have a major stash to get through before the ban began this month.
Ooooo, they'll be a pack of grumpies but some kind heart in Corrections thought they'd be able to pacify hard-smoking crims by offering them wittle cawwot sticks to chew on instead.
Another reason not to join Corrections - there are morons in the decision-making process who would suggest such silliness.
A more sensible plan - not from inside Corrections one would suggest - involves giving the nicotine-addicted crims patches and lozenges to ease their cravings.
Only it seems the jailhouse smokers are so hungry for their hit they have resorted to smoking nicotine patches and tea leaves.
Crikey, maybe they need to take up a less addictive drug instead ... like P.
richard@richardmoore.com