Man, if they’d said, “Now girls, imagine it’s a hot, balmy night, it’s dark, you smell ginger and plumeria and gardenia on the breeze… Knowing instinctively what to do, you dip your poi balls in fuel, massaging them to make sure they’re fully saturated, gently wring them out and then light them on fire.”

“Oh, and by the way girls, you’re going to need wicks on chains girls, wicks on chains. Burning poi balls flying through the air = strictly no good. Now dance!” Man , that would have been a horse of a different color, would have put a whole new spin on it, if you know what mean. Would have looked a lot like this… well, almost.