Mahalo Oahu Aloha

Seeing how I am now getting to be an expert on "stupid things to do, that I always wanted to but now do it and blame it on middle age crazy", I decided not to stay in West Virginia for Thanksgiving this year. I have always wanted to visit Hawaii. Never actually had a specific island in mind, knowing eight island masses make up the gorgeous state. I hit a certain travel web site and ended up on the island of O'ahu.

Now the other islands have their charms I am sure. After spending a week on O'ahu, I can only imagine what the other islands have to offer. Certain, one charm would be the Big Island of Hawaii and its still active volcanoes. Of course this includes the islands of Mau'i, Moloka'i, Lana'i and Kaua'i, each one certain to be a paradise all it's own.

Middle aged crazy! A title I have now labeled the downhill portion of my life's ride or momentary lapses in logical judgement have caused me to do some pretty silly things since I passed the age of 45. But I now feel that making a trip to the 50th state was no lapse of judgement. It was possibly one of the best ideals I have ever had.




My arrival to the island of O'ahu was well anticipated, not only for the shear fact that I had never been there before but also for the one reason of being on a flight for 13 hours, nursing an excessively soar butt, lack of sleep and the unquenchable desire to stand upright. Listen, if your legs were as long as mine, confined in a seat designed for a 1o year old and seated third seat over near the window, you would know what I meant!

Sadly, my flight to the island ended close to 10 PM Hawaiian time, or 3 AM eastern standard time, a time zone my body was still stuck in, regardless of what my watch attempted to convince it of, so it was rather dark outside. I had wanted to be able to look out the plane window and see the approach of the island, thinking that would be a spectacular sight in its own. But was unable to fulfill. After all that time in flight, my buttocks cussing me since somewhere over Alabama,( I knew it was Alabama because the plane had a moving map on the LED display in front of me), I was just as tickled to see land, or lights!

Now, I know people have things that they do not wish to be placed in general baggage. I, myself had a laptop I didn't want crushed, so carried it on the plane with me. But I have a problem with those who carry rolling baggage that barely passes the airlines size limit on board. Taking time to shove, push, tamp, cuss, coerce, pound and all but take dynamite and attempt to blow it into the small overhead baggage compartment, thus causing me to stand in the cramped isle waiting, seemingly, with patience, which I lost after my first plane landed in Atlanta.

Their next incredible feat came when the plane landed at its destination. One by one, isle by isle, they take their time getting out of their seats and standing, always looking back to the end of the plane, as if hoping someone was taking their picture or simply be nosey. Stretching a bit, those who were under 5 foot tall, then proceeding to take their time, opening the overhead baggage compartment and gently removing their precious bag that they didn't want roughly handled by ground personnel. Yea, right!....Of course, my seat assignment always placed me near the back of the aircraft so I had to find a whole hell of a lot of patience. And yes, that is what I lost in Atlanta.

Thankful, extremely so, when I did manage to get off the plane, I proceeded to walk inside the terminal. Airport terminals are not designed for simplicity. They are designed to confuse simple minded people such as myself and to help those health minded ones keep their workout routines. It felt like it took almost as long to go from the landing terminal to the departure terminal as it did to actually fly from one place to the other. Once off the plane you take out your ticket, look at the next flight and find the monitor which told you about all the flights. See, very, very quickly, what the number of the terminal was where your next flight will be leaving and hope to God you know where you are going.

Honolulu International was not much different. But this time, I wasn't trying to hurry to my next departure terminal, just simply find where my suitcase was going to be haphazardly thrown out onto a carousel amidst thousands of other suitcases. The walkways from one place to another took the passenger outside the terminals. The cold weather I was accustomed to in West Virginia was absent when I got to Hawaii. A breeze was blowing, warm, but not to warm and the absence of humidity made me smile. Palm trees waving in the breeze, the sound of Hawaiian music playing on the intercom speakers, mhm, I was in Hawaii.

Once I found the area where my luggage was suppose to be returned to me, I huddled among the masses who also were waiting. I quickly found that, there were a thousand people standing there, and only 9 of them spoke anything resembling english, of which, I wasn't sure I was one of them.




Somewhere, working at the airport, someone knew me. They apparently had a grudge against me or had a sister I once dated or knew someone I dated. They knew my past and felt it was required by Hawaiian state law to make me pay for all my past mistakes in life. They knew me! So, here I stood, at the baggage carousel, waiting for my luggage. Luggage which was not coming down that weird contraption anytime soon apparently. But I was patient! Patient until I realized one key important thing. I didn't remember what color my suitcase was!! Oh here was a new problem. The stark realization of waiting for something which obviously already passed me by a dozen times and stupid old me, not realizing I may have let my suitcase pass me by...simply because I forgot what color it was! Was it the red one? The black one? Was it the red one which looked like the one I seen in my closet at home? Did I pack the red one? Wait! No! It wasn't mine, it belonged to the Chinese! Or maybe they liked my red suitcase and decided to take it instead! Hmm, the Chinese stole my red suitcase!

I looked down at the little carry on case I had in my hand. Something resembling a purple material. Not a woman color purple, but a cool color purple. Perhaps my large suitcase was also this color. Could it be that I was color coordinated? Me? Yea, right!! So I took a gamble, walked up to another red suitcase, looked at it and placed it back on the carousel...it wasn't mine!! And the Chinese hadn't stolen it. About that time, a purplish color case came through the mouth of the vile machine. Could that be mine? Was it even possible that after waiting for a thousand hours the baggage gods would grant me favor by allowing mercy from the handlers and I would receive my suitcase? I quickly jumped on that bag when it came around, willing and ready to fight the Chinese, Americans, Japanese, Koreans, Russians and any other nationality standing nearby. Yes, by gosh I was tired, worn out, sore, in serious pain, aching, throbbing, sick at my stomach, thirsty and staved to death!!! I was willing to start World War III over my suitcase and by god whoever tried to take it would feel the wrath of the Keeper of the Warehouse!!! I WANTED MY BAG!!! And......it wasn't mine!

Damit, I wanted my bag! I wanted it now! Why? What did I do to deserve this kind of treatment from the airlines? Why were they finding such amusement in making me wait? Make me be the last person in the airport to receive their baggage! Wait! Maybe my bag was lost! Maybe it went to Hong Kong! Oh my god!!! The Chinese did have my luggage! What else do they want? They already own 98 percent of America and it's once proud industries. All of our jobs they now owned and the majority of what Wal-Mart now sells comes from there. Why did they want my baggage? What would I do if my baggage was lost and never made it to O'ahu with me? Would I have to buy new underwear? OMG! I didn't have clean underwear now! Mom always said to have clean underwear incase I was ever in an accident. Why, I was never sure of, maybe it had something to do with my HMO or medical insurance coverage. but now I am screwed since my luggage was apparently placed on another flight and is on its way to Hong Kong!



Just when I was about to go into a nervous fit, I saw the machine spit out another purplish bag. Not woman purplish mind you, but a cool purple. Could this be mine? Could my clean undies be in this bag? Did it miss me? Wanted me, desired to be held in my strong hands? Caressed once again by someone who cared for it?.....Wait,,sorry, that's a whole totally new blog! And nothing to do with my suitcase!

Here it came and I pounced on it like a starved Siberian Tiger, quickly took it in my hand and turned it to see the name on the label. Yes,,hallelujah!!!! It was mine! All mine! I am saved, I now have clothing!!!

With all the things which belonged to me in tow, not apologizing to the Chinese for accusing them of stealing my belongings, they wanted it anyway and I knew it, I proceeded to my next challenge. My vacation package also included a rental car and I needed information on where to obtain that thing. The trip to the hotel was not so much a challenge since I already mapquested the trip from the airport to the motel and was ready to tackle the island traffic to get there.

A wonderful lady who worked at the information desk was willing to assist me with my request. Again, keep in mind, not many people there spoke english! Now before someone ready this gets angry with me, I must explain my reasoning for this remark. In no way am I stating that the native people of the gorgeous state of Hawaii can't speak english. They do, with a slight accent of course, but one is able to understand them. My thing is this, there are so many immigrants in this nation and the airports have employed so many of them, forgetting that local people need jobs too. Their lack of skill at speaking our language leaves those less fortunate at language comprehension, such as myself, with the ability to understand what the hell they are saying. All I understood her to say was,,"outside, cross something or another, and wait for something or another".

I thanked her. It was shear politeness and thus required by common ediquette to thank someone for their attempt and thus not my fault I had no dam clue what she meant. I took my stuffage and walked out the door. The barrage of a thousand different languages filled the Hawaiian night air. Hundreds of cars, buses, and such were quickly moving up and down the street in front of the airport.

Ok, here I am, standing outside, baggage in tow, no ideal where I am going or how to get there. Information Lady's information being sketchy at best, I must now use my superior knowledge to decipher what to do or where to go. As I stood there, waiting, looking and exhausted, I noticed some of the shuttle vans having rental car logos on them. I looked at my intinerary and saw what company Priceline had used to provide me a car. Thus hoping I saw a shuttle bus with the word "National" written on it. Since, obviously, I had rented a car from National Car Rentals. Duh!!!!




Long story short, which may be the title of yet another blog entry, I did not get the car simply because my credit card was in my business name and did not have my personal name on it. I can't or won't even begin to describe what I felt at that moment and knew if I didn't mind myself and control my emotions, I would end up a guest at the Honolulu Police Department Regent Hotel. I was rather pissed. And that's being mildly stated! I ask, sort of in a controlled,kind but reserved tone, if the small lady with the huge accent across the rental car counter would be so kind to call me a cab since she robbed me of my right to drive a car there myself. She did with a smile, a smile I wish I could have crammed down her little immigrant throat!! Did I mention I was tired that night? Possibly!

The cab ride was another incredible adventure. Given to me by yet another incredible immigrant. Please let me clarify, I am not against people who legally come to the USA and become a citizen. As long as they do it legally! America is populated by people whos ancestors are from another country. Unless, of course, they happen to be of Native American decent. As I tried to look at Honolulu in the night, read the signs and still try to pray that the hotel didn't require the same thing on my credit card that the car rental place did...or else I was majorly screwed for 5 days. Now wishing I had not taken this trip, thinking what if I can't check into a room which was already paid for, like my rental car was. What would I do?

As I watched the meter on the dashboard of this mini-van and noticing how many times the driver hit his blue tooth ear piece talking in some language I had yet to identify, the amount of the ride was escalating! Hoping my motel was not on the other end of the island or that I would have enough cash in my wallet to pay for the fare, we pulled into the place where I was to stay. AT $35.50 FOR THE RIDE!!! Customary, I know, to tip cab drivers, I was not in any way feeling customary, nor after charging me that amount, were I going to fork out a, "here since you dont make enough money, get your kids braces with this extra cash I wont be needing anymore while I am here" cash tip! Screw it, get a better paying job!

I am sure I will follow this blog with yet another add on to the trip to Hawaii. In all truth, O'ahu was amazingly incredible. Perhaps after day one, and I rested, I ran out of descriptive words to describe this incredible place.

Once at the hotel, I proceeded to the counter. Dreading what was to follow but so seriously needing a shower and a bed, I waited on some young couple who didn't like the room they were given nor the floor it was on. I waited and waited, my legs almost ready to commit mutiny on me and go sit down without the rest of me. My ass and back were applauding the proposed coup against the rest of my body and thus overthrow me...as if they could make it without me.

Sort of a relief when the lady behind the counter ask if I were checking in and gave me papers to fill out. "Oh god, I am close", I thought to myself, hoping the credit card thingy didn't stop my apparent happy time. The young couple in front of me were dragging their check in as long as they could. Apparently they knew who I was as well and knew how long I had been on that dam plane and how tired I was and how badly I wanted to go to bed. THEY KNEW!!! And like the baggage crew at the airport, they wanted to torture me! But finally, after seemingly hours of whining over their proposed room, it was my time.

Anticipation and a slight chance of being weary, yea the credit card thing, I completed my check in. Looking at the clerk behind the counter, I told her I didn't care what room it was, where it was located, what it looked like or if it faced the ocean or the freaking laundry. All I wanted was a place to stay, a bed or couch to sleep on, wasn't interested in a phone, refrigerator or amenities. I needed a shower and sleep. And thus the worry about a fallen, fracked up vacation came to an end when she smiled at me, explained the simple rules and reach me my credit card type room keys! I was smiling like a politician on facebook!!! I had a room and my adventure on O'ahu could begin.

I suppose I should come to a quick end to this blog. I titled it Mahalo Oahu Aloha ad have drifted so far from the titles meaning. I hated the flight over and the flight back, this is true. I lost money on my car rental and wasn't able to get it back. But the things I saw while I was there. The beauty of O'ahu and the hospitality of the Hawaiian people are without question.




In my travels along lifes road, I have seen many places. Well places that are found here on the North American continent. From the coast of Florida to the coast of Maine. Traveled down to the Big Easy (New Orleans) to enjoy the excitement of Mardi Gras. Journeyed to the coast of the Great Lakes to watch my son in Pass in Review when he finished basic training in the navy. Out to the California coast and seen the vast diversity of the state. Swam in the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. Seen the Mighty Missisip and the shores of the Gulf of Mexico.

I have seen the USS Constitution sitting in Boston Harbor, and walked down the very same path that Paul Revere walked. Sat in the Old North Church and imagined Robert Newman climbing to the steeple, at the ready to signal the oncoming army of the British. So many memories I have and things I hold dear to my heart.

But the island of O'ahu has to top it all. Yes, dear avid reader, those one or two of you who read my ramblings, there will be more to this Hawaiian adventure, but that place made such an impact on me.

The Pacific ocean was so clear and pristine, I have never seen an ocean so incredible clear. The lush vegetation that grew everywhere, even in the crater of Diamond Head. The flowers that are constantly in bloom in vast assortment and sizes. Mountains so massive that many of them dwarf the mountains of my own beloved West Virginia.

Food that is also incredible and the taste of fresh pineapple, macadameia nuts. Coconuts and now knowing that the water inside the shell isn't coconut milk, but rather made by crushing the flesh from inside of a coconut and squeezing it from that flesh. I will always remember the sights, Pearl Harbor, Diamond Head Crater and Waikiki beach. Honolulu at sunset and how spectacular the shoreline looks on the way up the coast to Laie and the show at the Polynesian Culture Center on a clear quiet evening.


When it came time for me to depart, I sat in the hotel lobby listening to the Hawaiian music playing in the background. Watched so many people with their Hawaiian shirts on, and the beauty of the landscape. I took a deep breath of fresh, wonderful Hawaiian air and listened to the sounds of the shore. I walked along the peir one more time and looked at the ocean floor, the pacific still so clear you could watch crabs walking on the ocean floor.

I watched the surfers taking to the sea, hoping to catch that one wave that will hoist them to superstardom. The kindness of the people and the shear beauty of it all. I didn't want to leave Hawaii and wish I had the time and money to have toured all the islands. Who knows? Maybe one day I shall return to O'ahu. One day I will be able to greet someone on the street with a simple "Aloha cousin". I will never forget this place. And hope my memory never leaves me, or I have indeed lost so much.

With this said and so much more I will add in later blogs about Hawaii. And as the title of this blog states, I will say it again in the language of the islands...Maholo O'ahu, aloha......simply meaning, Thank you O'ahu, and goodbye...