Waikiki and walking wet...
Oahu Travel Blog› entry 3 of 6 › view all entries
The sun came into the high rise like a burning white elephant and sat its ass on my face.
I woke up sweating. I didn't have my contacts in but the light was intense. I squinted at my watch. Just after 7am. Jeeze... Chris grunted from the couch. He was up too. I stumbled into the bathroom and put my eyes in. I came back out and joined Chris on the couch. We hung our heads for a minute like two men in mourning. "Why on earth are we awake so early?" Dustin and Terumi had both left for work already, but left us Dustin's key. The Korean girls' door was closed - most likely sound asleep.
Since we were up, we decided to take advantage of the day and walk to Waikiki beach.
We passed the Hilton with its huge bronze statue of hula girls dancing, a park with crazy hanging trees and then a military museum. We came across a few more hotels and looking at a map realized we were going to have to cut through one to get to the beach. We took a little path and popped out on the west end of Waikiki.
Waikiki.. is a really pretty beach. It's on the south side of Oahu and gets little to no surf beyond what the wind brings in - perfect conditions for sitting out on the beach and relaxing, hiring a local to teach you how to surf or just splashing about with your family.
What few waves do make it to shore... break on your toes and roll back into the ocean like silly giggling children. The actual beach between the hotels and the water is small, either due to the close shore break or perhaps the hotels were built too close to the water. At times the beach disappears altogether and you have to walk through whatever hotel is there to get to the next portion. The small beach and number of tourists filing out of the hotels and cramming their towels next to each other gives Waikiki an unfortunate claustrophobic feeling. As Chris and I walked down we were more-or-less forced to walk in the water, not that we minded much. But I'd hate to see this place in the summer.
We walked along until we found a place where the waves seemed to be slightly bigger than the rest (a foot at best) and squeezed our towels in amongst everyone else.
An hour or so passed like this until I had a pretty nice rash on my chest from bashing onto the shore over and over and sand in places I'd care not to share. We watched the people walking by, Japanese girls in conservative bathing suits and older folks with almost blackish tans.
It was about 2pm and we had some time to kill before Dustin got home from work. I wanted to see There Will Be Blood, the new Daniel Day-Lewis flick and brought it up as an idea. Chris was down for it, so we set out for the movie complex, a good 45 minute walk from Waikiki. We walked along Kalakaua, people watching and window shopping as we went. About the time we turned onto Ala Moana Street, I realized that I was in trouble.
Well, that's an understatement really. How can I put this delicately, dear reader? The sensative end of a very important part of me was getting sorer and sorer with every step I took, until I couldn't understand how a chaff could ever get so bad. I had to stop. I wrapped my thumbs in my waistband, pulled and took a look to see what could possibly causing so much pain.
Sand. Pharmacologically bonded to every inch of sticky ocean-soaked skin. Sand, everywhere. I turned my back to the crowd, stuck my hand in my shorts and tried brushing it off while Chris snickered behind me. But nothing doing... it was like the sand was glued onto me. I tied myself up again, toughened my resolve and we set out again.
5 minutes later I couldn't even walk without holding my crotch like a wannabe Eminem. I didn't care though. The pain had gotten so worse that I had to stop again. I told Chris that I had to find someplace to wash myself off or else I was going to go mad. We found a Starbucks and I got the key to the bathroom. I tried washing myself off at the sink, but the goddamn sand was seriously sticking to me like it had been chemically welded. I climbed onto the sink and stuck my... myself under the faucet. That felt good and I managed to get a little bit off, but I heard someone coming in and gave up the idea. Instead I wet a wad of paper towels and wrapped myself up, making a virtual cast that hopefully would stop the rubbing at least.
Okay... you can stop laughing now. What else was I supposed to do?
Well the makeshift cast did a pretty good job and I was able to walk again, but I was still cringing with every step. Funny, amidst all the pain, I managed to take a picture of a pretty cool rainbow while we walked. We finally came to the movie theater, but we were early and hungry, so we walked down the street to Kua Aina burger... THE (and if I could make that "the" 10 feet tall, I would) THE best burger spot in Oahu. The first time was so good, I ordered another half pound pineapple burger and chewed my way through a half pound of Jimmy Hendrix Axis: Bold as Love style far-out-ness. I mean, that burger was just one of the best burgers I've tasted since I ate three nights in a row at Fernburgers in Queenstown, New Zealand. And those were the best EVER. So anyhow, enough capitals.
Stuffed, we waddled our way back to the movie theater and got our tickets. I won't spoil it for you, and if you've already seen it then you know what the fuss is about. I'll just say masterpiece, and go along my way.
Coming out of the movie theater, it was dark and raining. I called up Terumi and asked her if she could pick us up, cuz she's Japanese and her heart reflects her culture and I knew she wouldn't refuse. Chris thought that it was a dick maneuver calling her up, and maybe he's right, but I knew I couldn't make that walk home in my condition, so I didn't feel too guilty asking for a ride. I hadn't even gotten a chance to explain why we needed a ride home before she said Yes. We killed time in a bookstore. She was there in 15 minutes and...
...through the door, off with the trunks and right into the shower! Sweet mother of relief!
I put on the softest pair of boxers and the baggiest pair of jeans I had with me and we went out to the Irish Rose to meet up with Dustin. A few more friends of his had arrived during the day and they had already started drinking. We met a guy named DORSH, and I clocked him for a bit of a meathead right away. We met Steel, a short white guy who had a flair for talking hip-hop. We met a cousin named Blake. A couple rounds of beers. Steel was cool. DORSH was a total boner. Blake didn't say much. This group of old timers set up their equipment on the stage inside the bar and started playing so loud that we couldn't even hear each other. But they opened with the Allman Brothers Band and followed up with Pink Floyd and then moved on to the Doors, and that was enough to keep me sitting there.
I was digging the music and singing along but the other guys wanted to take off, so we left the bar and headed down Kalakaua Street and eventually found ourselves at this large sporty type bar. Inside was an open room and they were hosting karaoke. We grabbed a table and a few drinks, and I couldn't resist grabbing the book and putting a song in. Next to us was a table of smoking hot Betties who couldn't have been older than 20 and a half. It was obviously one of the girls birthdays, but they were obviously more into themselves than anything esle, so I did my best to ignore them. We got another round of drinks and DORSH decided he wanted to put a song in too, but he wouldn't tell us what it was at first. And then he started bragging about it. DORSH was doing Heuy Lewis and the News, "the only good fucking band in this whole fucking book," if I can quote the man himself. "Some fucking I Need A New Drug, that's what this place needs," he said. "I'm gonna bring the fucking house down," he went on. "Fucking. I. Need. A. New. Drug. Goddamnit, hurry up, when the fuck's it my turn?" and so on. More drinks. We sat through some horrible renditionings of Baby Got Back, some Usher song, a Celine Dion song (seriously) and Sweet Caroline. Finally, I heard my friends hooting and hollaring because I guess they had called my name. I brought my beer up to the front and rocked I Got a Woman by Ray Charles. I mean, people were cheering and making love in the aisles it was so good. I hi-fived my way back to my table and winked at the metro chicks at the table next to us. I actually got a small response... one of the girls looked away from her compact long enough to smile once and it was back to her face.
I snuck outside and bummed a cigarette from the bouncer. The bouncer was definitely a local. I told him I had quit smoking and he just kinda snarled at me. I tried making small talk with him anyway and he looked at me abrasively until I told him I was here for my buddy's bachelor party. It brought out the big softy in him and he fondly shared with me some of his bachelor party exploits on the island. Definitely nothing I could reprint here. I went inside and washed my hands to get rid of the cigarette smell and went back.
We sat around and drank some more beer waiting for DORSH's song to come up. It was almost 2am before he finally got called and after all that BS and convincing us to stay and wait for his song, after all that crap he talked... he sucked, man. I mean, he really blew chunks. Chris and Steel were talking about hip-hop or something else I couldn't care less about and I had to maneuve my way into the conversation just to distract myself from the turkey-honking coming from the front of the room. A couple people gave him their best Wheel of Fortune clap (y'know, where you limply mick-mack your hands together cuz you don't want to exert too much energy) and he came back triumphantly. We all congratulated him like he was the King returned. I wonder if meat heads know they're being lied to all the time?
Let's see, how did this night end? Hmm. I can't remember how this night ended. But I remember right after we left the karaoke bar, DORSH left us to pick up one of the many prostitutes walking along the street. I don't really want to get into it, but I probably should mention that Honolulu has a bit of a CRYSTAL METH epidemic, and through six degrees of Kevin Bacon, it causes waaaaaaay too many hot young women who should probably be going to frat parties instead to walk the streets to feed the animal. Anyhow, like I said, DORSH left us for one of them, and I'm guessing we went home.