1st night: hookers and sailors

My first night here, my cousin took me out for a little walk through the town to show me around. We walked down Kalakaua St. which is Waikiki's "main drag." There are countless designer stores (including three Coach stores in about half a mile), restaurants, and tourists. Just on the other side of the row of stores, restaurants, and hotels is Waikiki beach. We made a quick stop by the beach, and then turned left towards Kuhio St.

My cousin told me that one of the interesting things about Hawaii is the fact that laws are selectively enforced. For instance - prostitution laws. He said as we turned onto Kuhio that we would certainly encounter some hookers. He also warned me of the likelihood that I's find myself checking out a chick one day, only to discover that she was a mahu (pidgin for transvestite). There they were, around fifteen or twenty girls lining the left side of the street, with velvet-wearing, bejeweled cane-carrying pimps scattered here and there. Right on cue, a group of seven sailors, complete with white bell-bottoms and funny little sailor-hats, walked by. One of the girls poked her fried, who was distracted by the debris she was trying to remove from her clear-plastic ultra high heeled shoe as if to say "wake up... it's time for business!" Their ship had literally come in.

As I laughed to myself in amazement at the sights and sounds of the city we made our way to Kelly O'Neils, an Irish pub. My cousin took the opportunity to warn me that if I ever wanted to get a massage, I should be careful that I knew what I was getting, as even the most respectable looking massage parlors assume that you want "full release." Even though the signs in the doorway said SMOKING IS ILLEGAL!, there were ashtrays on every table and smoke was in the air. That's my kind of Irish Pub and another fine example of selective law enforcement. I ordered 2 pints of Guiness, one for each of us. After a nice, traditional slow-pour, the bartender brings me the dark foamy goodness and says,"That'll be $13.50." Ouch. I was not expecting that.

small apartment, big roaches

I've never lived in a place with roaches. Sure, I've seen one or two in Chico or Arcata, but not like this. This is a big city with big roaches. They fly. The full grown adults are literally two and a half inches. There was one last night in the sink that was carrying a large slice of the white part of a green onion in it's mouth. Like a dog with a bone. My roommate Lori says that the best thing to do is spray them with Simple Green. "It works great and it's not toxic, like those bug sprays" she said. It does not work great. Perhaps it makes them clean and fresh smelling, but it does not kill them, it just gets them wet. The best things I have found for dispatching them are a plastic fork, with which you can crush or cut them in half before using the same fork to move the carcass to the trash, or a slipper (pronounced slippah, =flipflop/thong).

I've also never lived with three people in a 300 sq. foot apartment. Three full weeks now and it's really not that bad. Eric and I switch off between the couch (loveseat) and the easy-chair. I think we are all being very careful to be considerate and accommodating, and I think it's working. However, I look forward to a time when no longer have to live out of my suitcase. At this juncture, I think I'd rather have a dresser and a closet than a blow job.