Twin Fin
“I had no business being there”
It was October of 2024. Hunched at my desk, sauntering through a workday. 3 months post-op from back surgery. I had missed the whole summer recovering. No hiking, no lake trips, no evening pickup soccer sessions. A friend reached out with a timely proposition. 4 days in O‘ahu, accommodations already sorted. Just buy a flight and be ready to leave by the weekend. My schedule was open, the flights were reasonable and I had no reason to say no.
On our last night, we booked an impromptu sunset Catamaran. I had my film camera for the trip, I wanted off Instagram until I got home. It’s also a phenomenal ice breaker. We met a few locals on the boat, two of them recently engaged. I snapped a few photos for them, with the promise of sending them once they were developed. We exchanged info, had a few more drinks and caught up later that night. Great crew.
The husband-to-be mentioned he had just joined a band on the Island, Twin Fin -- they were playing mostly backyard parties and local venues, but as I do with every band I meet, I extended the offer for some free photos anytime they were in Colorado, convinced I would never see them again.
“Eyoo. I noticed you follow twin fin, are you going to their show at larimer lounge on the 28th?” That was the text I received a few weeks before the show. Twin Fin? Why did that name sound so familiar? It hit me -- The Hawaiian catamaran, over a year and a half later.
The local band, playing backyard jams and small venues, had amassed over 450,000 monthly Spotify listeners and was touring the mainland. Denver, Colorado a few stops out. I scrolled Instagram messages, and our last exchange, developed film photos from a sunset boat cruise, October 2024. Expecting very little, I fired a message -- saw the band was heading to Denver, would love to honor my promise for free photos. To my delight, they replied.
The show was one of the best I’d seen all year. The room was filled with an unspoken but shared aura of “we’re going to remember seeing these guys in a venue this small”. The guys were absolute gems -- we bonded in the greenroom pre-show, exchanging pleasantries over beers, calming nerves (yes the photogs get them too).
The other bandmates had asked how I ended up at the show, who did I know? “I met your keys player on a catamaran in 2024”. It really didn’t do justice how unconventional the introduction was. The spontaneity of the trip, the last minute booking of the sail, the 3,400 miles of separation from Denver to O’ahu. It truly was the most unlikely of connections.
We shared a few more brews and a cigarette after pack down, solidifying the transition from strangers to friends. “I had no business being there” -- I said to myself as I headed for the car. In writing this, I realized how provincial that phrase is, the perfect depiction of how narrow our horizons have become.
We have every business being everywhere that brings us joy, fosters our curiosity and challenges our conventions. Take the trip..get on the boat..talk to the band. Make it your business to be there.
