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Goat Man

This post is about the time I spent with an eccentric billionaire in Maui. I wrote this on my phone on the plane ride home.

I pull up to the 26 foot gates after driving 15 miles through straight jungle, through dirt roads and mud. It’s a lot for my rented white minivan to take. He gave me the gate code beforehand. I type it in and the giant gates to the property swing open.

Park next to the goat arena, the text read. So I did. Ok, cool, so there’s a goat arena.

“Hello?”I look around for someone, but I get no answer. 10 minutes later a figure emerges. He stands about 6 feet tall, with graying hair and piercing blue eyes. 3 dogs—2 goldens and 1 black lab—follow him in tow.

“Hello,” he says plainly. We stare at each other for a minute, the first encounter.

“Want a tour?” he asks.


This mystery man then proceeds to lead me around the most exquisite property I’ve ever seen. There are multiple buildings, with 55+ animals roaming the grounds. Luscious green fields. A guest bedroom overlooking the cliff to the ocean. A private waterfall. A trampoline. A yoga/contortion studio. A pool he supposedly dug himself to get over his ex. A plexiglass wall in the pool imported from Japan so you can see the waterfall while swimming. Giant buddhas imported from Bali. Crystals everywhere to balance the energy. I’m in awe.

“Ready to hike the waterfall with goats and dogs?” he asks me.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Let’s do it.”

We head to the nearly vertical pathway down the side of the mountain, goats and dogs in tow. Immediately I start sliding.

“Want to know a fun fact? I tore my ACL 3 times,” I tell him, a smidge of fear cracking through my voice.

“Great time to tell me that.”

We continue scaling down the side of the mountain, and I’m falling all over the place, covered in dirt and mud. We use the trees and their roots to grab onto for support. He gave me a pair of gloves for protection. He previously tied some ropes to trees, so we used those to levy us downward. We finally reach the bottom, and I’m wading through the stream at the base of the mountain.

“How do we get back if it gets dark?” I wonder.


I look into his eyes before he charges ahead of me. There’s a bit of crazy in them. It occurs to me that this guy could totally murder me if he wanted, and I’m in the middle of a jungle with no cell service.

We finally approach the waterfall. It’s magnificent. The dogs jump in the pool and start swimming, like they’ve been here before countless times. Mystery man sits on a rock a few yards away from me. My sweatshirt and clothes are destroyed from the mud. I strip down to my bikini and dive in the waterfall pool. He watches, but doesn’t join me.


By now, we’re back up at the house smoking a joint with his engineer and assistant that live on the property with him. The engineer is basically mute, silently rolling joints, with the Fibonacci sequence tattooed on his arm. The female assistant is tall, blonde, and beautiful.

“I spend a lot of money trying to live forever,” he says after taking a hit, smoke circling around him. “I make what Jack Dorsey does look like nothing.”

“Really? If someone told me I had to die tomorrow, I’d be okay with it,” I say emphatically.

He gives me an incredulous look, curiosity running across his face. “Interesting,” he says, then takes another hit of the joint.


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