The bus trip itself was long and uneventful, and we arrived at the memorial site around 7:15. There were already about 50 people on line (the first tour didn't even start until 8:00), so it was good that I decided to come early. I chatted with a man from San Diego and a couple of honeymooners from PA while we waited. At around 7:30, the doors opened.
---The Landmark Sign Shows The Ship Before It Sank------------
The tour consisted of 3 parts. First, I took a self-guided walk through the Pearl Harbor Museum. The shocking photos and unnerving death statistics (over 2,400 seaman and civilians killed) shook me up. Despite my High School social studies WWII curriculum exposure, I don't think I truly realized how tragic (nor how momentous) December 7, 1941 really was (Indeed, George Bush and I shared similar memory retention as to this historic date). The second part of the tour added to my doleful mood. I watched a 45-minute documentary on the bombardment of Pearl Harbor. As the short film concluded, not a word was spoken -- the assembled tourists mutely filed out and onto the boat that would take us to the third and final part of the tour: the Arizona Memorial.
---------------------Approaching the Arizona Memorial----------------
----------------------------Entering The Memorial------------------------
The Arizona Memorial is a huge, white bridge-like structure which spans the sunken USS Arizona. Looking out at the rusty, barnacled remains of the gun turrets poking up through the Pacific, a pervasive chill overcame me as a horrible reality set in: below me was not just a ship, but a tomb -- a 2,000 ton steel sepulchre, buried in a watery grave. The eeriness I experienced as I looked down at the ship and then up at the seemingly endless wall of names, can only be compared to what I felt when I visited the Dachau Concentration Camp in Germany.
--------------------------------The Ship----------------------------------------
------------------------------------The Names-----------------------------------
At the conclusion of the tour, I hopped on the bus, stopped off at the hostel to pick up my snorkeling gear, hopped back on the bus and headed down to Hanauma Bay -- a destination on the Southeast side of the island, purported to be the premier snorkeling site on Oahu, if not all of Hawaii. I remember grumbling to myself that "it better be" while I stood (packed in like a sardine) for the entire one-hour bus journey.
I was not to be disappointed!
Hanauma Bay was a breathtaking, crystal blue, tropical paradise. I couldn't believe how clear the water was!
----------------------------------Hanauma Bay----------------------------------
It was even more amazing underneath -- warm, clean and teaming with life. Fish of all shapes, sizes and colors surrounded me. I took advantage of this "Kodak Moment" by trying out my new underwater camera. I soon realized how difficult it is to get within 3 feet of a swimming fish and keep it within my viewfinder long enough to snap a clear shot. I took over a dozen shots, but I'll be happy if just half come out.
-----------------------One Fish (Two Fish, Red Fish . . .)-----------------
After my snorkeling adventure, I laid out (and dried out) for about a half-hour, and then I made the trek back up the hill to the bus.
[Editor's note: I had been warned time and again about the intensity of the South Pacific sun, and I thought I did a pretty good job of playing it safe today (I applied #15 sunblock, wore a shirt whenever possible and only sunbathed for a short while). Nonetheless, as I found out later this evening, a small part of my back (obviously a part I couldn't reach with the lotion) was burnt to a crisp. If there is one part of a backpacker's body he doesn't want to burn, it is his back! Oh well, I will just have to get up the guts to ask a bikini-clad stranger to help me apply the sunblock next time, as my usual beach buddies aren't here to assist (Back home at Jones Beach, Jason, Joe, Sal or Steve would always help me if there were no ladies around, though admittedly, my dear friend Scott would sooner see me committed to a burn unit than put lotion on my back!)]
As I arrived back at the hostel and settled down in the TV room to write in this journal, I was faced with dim prospects for the evening. For the first time on my trip, I had no plan. I figured something would come to me . . . and wouldn't you know it, the very moment I was thinking this, something did -- or rather, someone did. You see, an attractive girl on the adjacent couch chose that very moment to introduce herself (her name was Nicole) and ask me if I had been to Pearl Harbor. I told her I had, and I revealed how deeply the memorial had affected me. Then, in a rare moment of boldness, I suggested to Nicole that she go to Pearl Harbor straight away in the morning, because I was hiking to Diamond Head in the afternoon and could use the company (my own morning being otherwise occupied with a Scuba diving trip). Blessedly, she was amenable to this, and I decided to press my luck one step further: I confessed my ignorance of Waikiki nightlife and casually (or at least, as casually as anyone on the verge of a panic attack could) asked her if she had any plans for the evening. Nicole said she had read about some cheap, popular night spot in her Hawaii on $45 a Day book, and was planning on heading over. She said I could join her, if I was interested. ( If I was interested?! Does a bear shit in the woods?!) I babbled something that must have assured her I was indeed interested, and, just like that, we agreed to go together.
The name of the place was House Without a Key -- the odd name should have been my first clue that the night was going to be unusual. When we arrived, instead of finding a hopping night spot filled with young people, good music and cheap cocktails, we were greeted with a dozen senior citizens, a geriatric band playing sleepy Hawaiian music and $7.50 drinks. Too embarrassed just to turn around and leave, Nicole and I felt compelled to at least stay for a drink. We both ordered Mai Tais, which were too strong and not as tasty as I would have liked. We munched on free chips and bread sticks until we could stand the "Wrinkled Don Ho Trio" no more. As we left "House Without a Clue", I ranked on Nicole mercilessly, jokingly imploring her to throw her guidebook in the trash.
By now the two of us were starving, so we searched for a cheap place to eat. We happened upon an establishment called Hamburger Mary's. Even though I avoid beef as a rule, the two-for-one burger deal was too good to resist. Nicole had the teriyaki burger, and I had the mushroom cheddar burger. It was a very tasty and satisfying meal for a grand total of $6.25 (less than half the cost of the gasoline cocktails at the other place).
The strange evening might have ended right there, had I not had the urge to pass water. As I searched for the bathroom, I stumbled upon an outdoor bar attached to (and in fact, part of) Hamburger Mary's. It had some atmosphere (Chinese lanterns projected a nice, Hawaiian mood) and it was a pleasant night, so Nicole and I decided to try it. We laughed at a sign declaring Tuesday "Leather and Jeans Night," shrugging it off it as some Hawaiian thing, and ordered a couple of pineapple rum drinks. Again, it was too strong, and I didn't enjoy it much, but it was nice conversing with Nicole. She told me she was a 21-year-old college student who had just completed a semester abroad in Australia (my curiosity was peaked right away, as I was on my way there myself). A native of Scotia, NY, and a student at St. Michael's College in Vermont, Nicole was heading back home on Thursday morning.
After we finished our drinks, the bartender suggested that we try The Hula Club across the street (attached back-to-back to this building, actually) and commented that the same crowd usually hops between the two clubs. There certainly wasn't much of a crowd there at Hamburger Mary's, so we thanked her and decided to take the advice.
As soon as we walked into Hula's, we knew we liked the place: it was another dimly lit outdoor club, but this one also had the added attractions of a dance floor, good music and more people. We commented on the dance floor when we came in, and the waiter said, "Oh yes . . . and you should know that this is a gay bar." Oh. Suddenly, some of the puzzling pieces of this odd night started to fall into place ("Leather and Jeans Night", "the same crowd", the up-'til-now unregistered fact that Nicole was the only woman in the Hula Club -- and possibly Hamburger Mary's, come to think of it). Boy, are we dense (!), I thought. Well, we went in and sat down, figuring it could be interesting. This time, we ordered a pair of Rum and Cokes, and we settled back to talk and crowd-watch. We commented on some of the clientele, creating some amusing bios, followed by a pretty heavy discussion on homophobia and racism.
We decided to try one more club before calling it a night. The bartender suggested Hula's sister club, The Wave, which he termed "the hottest straight club in town." Unfortunately, his directions were a little vague and we soon got disoriented (admittedly, the three rum drinks apiece that we had imbibed might have contributed to this). Thankfully, a friendly (if decidedly offbeat) local helped us along our way.
At first glance, The Wave looked awesome. A loud, happening multi-leveled club with two bars, a live alternative band, packed dance floor and young crowd. It was only after we'd ordered our drinks (frankly, I don't remember exactly what we had, though rum was certainly involved again) and settled in that we noticed the odd inhabitants. One incredibly drugged up and spaced out woman was flailing nonstop like a Whirling Dervish all over the dance floor, and there was a group of some scantily clad "ladies" eyeing us rather lasciviously from across the room, who bore an uncanny resemblance to prostitutes.
Nicole and I felt a bit uncomfortable, so we quickly drained our drinks and laughingly labeled Tuesday, July 5, 1994 the strangest night of our lives. Naturally, we vowed to go out again tomorrow night!
3 comments:
This puts a somber mood on a vacation, huh?
I hope you and your family had a wonderful holiday!
Oooooooo, snorkling! Yay!
How'd you get pictures of the fish? That's amazing! (Or am I easily amused).
Just a thought, but I read a book over this past week called "Forever Odd". I realized while reading it that the writing style was very similar to yours (very lively and colorful), but I do enjoy your writing too!
Aha! More stuff! That sounds like a night in Jamestown, NY to me, actually. If you ever find yourself in that area, I can advice you which bars are really nice and the average prices for each, but if you make a wrong turn, you might end up at Sneakers or Monday's. Trust me, you really DON'T want to go to either of those places, they are crowded and filled with unsavory characters.
By the way, because I can't 'invite' you to see my blog, and I miss seeing your visits, I opened it back up (and changed my name to Sue instead of Honey Cakes, which is my first name).
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