Oceania: Day 9: 7-11-94: Last Day In Hawaii

Unbelievable! The 3 pens I brought from home have all died on me, and the Honolulu Airport doesn't have any regular old 50-cent Bics -- so now I've had to resort to spending $2.50 (!) on a cheesy Hawaiian souvenir pen (featuring a grass-skirted Hula dancer that wiggles her hips as you write) so that I can continue my journal. But wait, I'm getting ahead of myself . . .

Today was the first day where I didn't do anything adventurous (in fact, I barely did anything at all). I got my ass out of the The Sleeping Giant as early as I could, and then I tried to find a cheap way back to the Kauai Airport (The [poor excuse for a] hostel only provided one-way transportation, natch!). Although I was reminded that there was no way I'd be allowed on the public bus with my backpack, my other options (walking, hitching, ponying up $30 for a cab ride or letting Dave extort me again) were unpalatable, so I decided to chance it anyway. After waiting a miserable half-hour in the blazing sun, a blue jeep suddenly pulled up beside me. A man got out, popped his tailgate, motioned for me to jump in and said, "you know the bus will never let you on with that pack." Without even thinking of it as hitching (since, in fact, I had been the "hitchee," as it were), I accepted the stranger's unexpected hospitality, put my bag in back and hopped in the passenger seat. The Good Samaritan's name was George, and he said that he hated to see backpackers standing around for hours, waiting for a bus that would never pick them up (he had a few friends suffer this fate). The talk flowed freely between us all the way to the airport. I thanked him and sought out my flight.

I took the 11:55 plane to the Honolulu Airport, where I faced an entire day of waiting until my 1:50 a.m. flight to Fiji. I decided to spend the afternoon at the only place (oddly enough) I really hadn't experienced in Waikiki -- the beach (unless you counted my ill-fated moonlit stroll). So I locked my stuff in an airport locker and took a bus back down to my old stomping grounds.

After grabbing an all-you-can-eat lunch in town, I spent most of the day laying around on the sand, catching up in my journal, taking a few choice photos and writing postcards to the family. After eating an inexpensive dinner, I did some final postcard/souvenir purchasing before catching the 6:00 p.m. bus back to the airport. It is here that I've spent the last five hours writing in my journal, running out of ink (hence my opening diatribe) and avoiding eye contact with drunken vagabonds (including my old "friend" Rodney). My hand is starting to blister, so I'm going to end today's rather weak entry and prepare to get on my red-eye flight (which should be boarding soon). I plan to fall asleep before the flight attendants recite the ubiquitous safety instructions.