It was 0440 in the morning when I approached Kupuna Loop in the Village Park neighborhood of Waipahu. I was thinking I had made it in time for the 0443 E Route Express when the bus suddenly came around the bend and streaked by me before I could make it to the corner and try to stop it.
I walked around the corner and down the street 100 feet to the bus stop. I sat down alone on the bench and combed my smart phone for bus options. Looked like 0528 was the next bus, it was a downtown express, but only to Ala Moana, not all the way to Waikiki as my plan called for. Oh well, memo to self, get to the bus stop 5-10 minutes early next time.
I felt myself getting agitated at being late and now having to waste time sitting there in the dark. Luckily, I had already taken three lessons from the Sam Harris meditation application, and also recently read a couple of articles on mindfulness. We too often make our lives worse by churning on past misfortunes and/or worrying about the future. All this does is make the present more dismal, and the present is what life really is most about. Since I could do nothing now about being late for the bus, and nothing more constructive than simply wait for the next bus, I decided to be happy in this moment. I closed my eyes and concentrated on my breath, each facet of breathing and nothing more. Tension released from mind. Thoughts arose more slowly, and could be examined and set aside with greater peace, as I returned to concentrating only on by breathing. That’s right, Waipahu Bob is a Zen Master!
Fifteen minutes later an older Filipino couple came and sat on the bench next to me. We greeted each other pleasantly as they sat down. Five minutes later another Filipino lady showed up, at which time the Filipino man then made his exit back home. Apparently his wife was now safe to be left at the bus stop without him, now that another lady had arrived for mutual support.
They chattered away in Tagalog (or Ilocano?) and I sat peacefully. Over the course of the next 20 minutes 5 more Filipino ladies gathered at the bus stop. I had a few pleasant exchanges with them in English, but they all busted into Tagalog at some point. I’m thinking most of them were heading downtown to work. Finally another guy showed up at the bus stop. Good, I was starting to worry this crowd of gals might want to have their way with old Waipahu Bob. I couple of them were already starting to undress me with their eyes.
The route 72 Express arrived at 0530 and we all piled in. A couple of more neighborhood stops, and then we were barreling down the H1 hiway, heading downtown. The bus was crowded, but everybody had a seat. I was in a side-saddle seat in the middle of the bus. Closed my eyes and relaxed. I was thinking about the recent release of the 50th year anniversary edition of the Beatles’ White Album. I might have drifted off for a short bit.
Studying the bus route, looks like the best I can do is get off downtown a couple of blocks from Aloha Tower and make my way to Ala Moana Boulevard for onward movement into Waikiki. Not the original plan, but it was Veteran’s Day after all, and Waipahu Bob was sporting an olive-drab green tee shirt and was wired to adapt and overcome. I felt like clicking onto a static line and jumping from a C-130 Hercules at 500 feet and 125 knots. I settled for pulling the string to indicate I wanted to get out at the next stop. Geronimo! I exited onto King Street at the corner of Alakea. The time was 0610.
I headed down Alakea toward Ala Moana Boulevard. The plan was to head east on Ala Moana into Waikiki. I crossed over to the ocean-side of Ala Moana Boulevard, turned left, and kept walking until I reached a bus stop. A sat on a bench there and looked at the schedule of bus routes stopping there. It looked like the best I could do via bus is make it down to Ala Moana Beach Park, and then maybe transfer to another bus there, or else walk on into Waikiki.
I sat for about 10 minutes, caught the next bus eastbound, and rode it to the middle of Ala Moana Park. I got off and thought, screw the bus schedule, I’ll just walk on into Waikiki. The sun was rising as I headed east on the street-side of Ala Moana park, stopping to snap a couple of pictures. Nice view that time of day.
A block east of Ala Moana Park is the bridge over the Ala Wai Canal, which borders Waikiki. I strode across the bridge as the sun came up over the Ala Wai Harbor.
I kept walking until I hit the edge of Fort DeRussy, the Army property dominating the west end of Waikiki. On that property is the military hotel, the Hale Koa, and a few other small military buildings, as well as lots of green grass, trees and shrubs. Some may lament the military ownership of such prime Waikiki real estate, but in truth Fort DeRussy is one of the greenest and best maintained areas of Waikiki, and the green space and walkways are open to the public.
I spied an open bench where I could sit and plot my next move, but as I arrived to the front of the bench I was disappointed to find it occupied by a sleeping bum, I mean a likely distressed homeless person getting a few winks before back to his rigorous job search regiment in order to enter the ranks of productive citizenry as soon as possible. Or maybe he’ll wake up and just do a little pan handling for booze money before heading down to the Mission for a free lunch. Hard to tell which way this guy will swing, but he sure looks comfortable at the moment. I retreated down the sidewalk and found a rock wall to lean against.
I needed a new plan. The old plan and timetable were shattered after missing that first bus. I was a mere country mouse from Waipahu in the big city, and I could use a little help. Luckily, I know a guy. This guy, let’s call him Mr. S, lives a few blocks away and is in fact a sort of informal ambassador of the Waikiki area. I called him, and hit pay dirt. He and Mrs. S were heading out for a holiday stroll around the area, and I was welcome to join them.
This was indeed a stroke of luck. It’s hard to catch Mr. S at home. His regular duties keep him super busy — teaching hot yoga at several all-male private schools, mentoring wayward priests at a seaside Waikiki retreat, teaching empathy classes at the Hotel Concierge Union Hall, and mentoring Waikiki street performers. This guy just doesn’t stop.
I headed out to meet Mr. and Mrs. S. On the way, I went by the now closed Wailana Coffee House. After 48 years in business, this venerable establishment closed its doors for good last month. So sad. This was an old school place, open 24/7, where you could get a steak and fries, or pancakes and eggs, at 0300 in the morning, and a bourbon and water on the side if you wanted. My kind of place! Ah, the march of progress – places with character close, replaced by shiny cookie-cutter drones.
The S stroll planned was not total Waikiki. Instead Mr. and Mrs. S were heading back to where I came from, Ala Moana Park. But it would be a different route, along the Ala Wai, across the bridge, then around Magic Island, which is the ocean-side appendage of Ala Moana Park. Sounded good to me. I was just happy to join in with this famous Waikiki couple.
First stop was at the Coffee Bean for a cup of Joe. Apparently Mr. S had helped the Coffee Bean owner out of a #MeToo-type jam a few months ago, and in gratitude the owner granted Mr. S an unheard of 22% discount, for life, on all coffee purchases of $5 or more. Mr. S likes to flaunt this deal as much as possible, which is fine with me, but I just wish he didn’t have to reenact the owners #MeToo transgression in graphic detail every time, including a full de-robing and simulated actions with a potted plant. Oh well, Mrs. S seems to enjoy it, and we were saving a few shekels on the mud.
The S stroll did not disappoint. For the first time I strolled the Ala Wai Promenade, a nice walking path next to the canal.
Magic Island did not disappoint either. Although parts were torn up with some kind of drainage construction project, the perimeter walking path was in good order, and the views are striking.
Back over the bridge and into Waikiki by 1000. Mr. S suggests we head back to the Coffee Bean for another cup. I don’t need to see him make that move on a potted plant again, so I beg off. Besides, I’ve got a bus to catch, and a date with an asphalt lady called the H1 Ewa-bound. Waipahu Bob is heading home. Peace, out.
Waipahu Bob 