October 7th, 2008
To Grandmother’s House We Go
Last night I needed a break from the glow of my monitor, so I decided to walk a few blocks down to the camera store to see if they have the camera bag I want to buy. It’s only a six block walk, but a six block walk in Waikiki can be as jam packed full of crazy as one or two Manhattan blocks. I was too busy/tired last night to document my adventure, but now after what could hardly be considered a good night’s sleep, it still seems worthy of documenting.
Block 1:
I walked by my future wife. When I saw her at first she was glancing down at her flip-flops, and all I saw was a head full of wavy, bouncy, brown hair. Then just as we were passing she looked up, and I knew we would enjoy several years together (which would end in a bitter divorce).
Block 2:
As I was negotiating the terms of my bitter divorce, a young hooligan ran across my path at an impressive speed, especially in flip-flops. He was holding a backpack in one hand. He was followed shortly thereafter (a few seconds) by a man holding a phone to his ear yelling ‘STOP THAT GUY’. This second man looked like at one time he had owned a backpack, but had since lost said backpack. I figured three guys running in flip-flops is surely against all odds, so I decided to continue on.
Block 3:
I walked by my future second-wife who apparently must have just gotten hired at the bar she was working at, since I walk by there quite often and have never seen her before. Either that, or she just had crazy amounts of surgery that made her noticeable to someone walking by and just glancing in, in a way that her pre-surgery face never hoped to accomplish. She didn’t see me, which was a telling sign of how she is sure to treat me in the years to come.
Block 4:
As I was reflecting on how much of a glutton I was for punishment, and how my love for her is worth the punishment that will accompany it (got baggage?), I walked by the porn store. Normally an uneventful occurrence, today was a slightly different story. As I was walking by, a drunk man was leaving (probably by request of the shop owner) the store, and decided that no longer would he accept the disagreement that the various contents of his stomach were currently engaged in. He outed his demons, and they came to rest splattered across the sidewalk. Unfortunately, the collateral damage was some fringe factions of his vomit finding their way onto my uncovered feet. Puke feet, gross.
Block 5:
It’s hard to take your walk serious when you know that your leading with feet that have bits ‘o chunk on them. Naturally I was looking down at my feet trying to assess the damage for a majority of the block. Towards the end of the block however, my attention was drawn away from my feet by a man walking by who said ‘HEY’. As I looked up, he was flicking his nose in an obvious way. I guess he comes across some pretty stupid buyers down in Waikiki, because he then decided to be a little more obvious and ask ‘Do you need anything?’. Um, a camera bag? To not have puke on my feet? For either of those marriages to have worked out? ‘A tissue.’
Block 6:
I arrive at the camera store, and of course they don’t have the bag I’m looking for. Despite the absense of this bag, the expedition is a success in the way that only a walk where you get puked one, offered blow, cut off by a thief, and fall in love twice, can be.
Tags: Cameras, Divorce, Drugs, Manhattan, Puke, Sidewalks, Story Of The Year, Thief, Waikiki