From: Harris, Gardiner
Sent: Thursday, December 31, 2015 5:28 PM
To: Allen, Jessica L. EOP/WHO
Subject: Golf over; Pool #7
NEWS: After a 6.5-hour day of golfing on a beautiful day, the motorcade has reformed and is speeding away from the Hawaii Prince Golf Club. Destination is uncertain. Your pooler did not spot POTUS through the tint on the Beast.
USELESS COLOR (can't resist this one little bit. Really sorry): The pool held in a Starbucks in a strip mall near the course that serves as an intergalactic portal into Americana. Your pooler went into the bathroom, held his breath, clenched his fists, closed his eyes and emerged in Reston, Va., for about 15 minutes before deciding to do the whole thing again and return to Hawaii. It was a dangerous trip, of course. Not only did your pooler risk getting caught in the suburban space-time continuum but might have lost all taste for chai lattes.
Thankfully, the Tuscany II subdivision is still here – row upon row of tan two-story tract homes with builder BONUS! rooms and postage stamp yards just across from the golf course. Even with its American sameness, though, there is a glory to Hawaiian suburbia that peaks out here just above the asphalt tile rooflines – a fabulous series of sharp-edged hills called the Waianae Mountain Range.
On this and probably most other days, the setting sun created a patch-quilt of greens over the range’s deep valleys – blazing meadows of chartreuse and shaded cliffs of avocado.
A single massive cloud the shape of submarine floated over these happier suburbanites for much of the late afternoon, as POTUS and his three childhood friends at the adjoining golf course raced to finish their latest round of oft-told stories.
White House Correspondent
The New York Times
1627 I St. NW Suite 700
Washington DC 20006