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A first-ever trip to Hawaii. My expectations are high, but the islands exceeded my wildest dreams. The islands are stunning, spectacular, magical, incredible. Maureen and I will return soon.

Hawaiian Islands, part 2

Domz
2004-04-06 18:54:16

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He tells me I can wait for the next one, or he can give me a ride in his car to catch up to the one I missed. I tell him that the next one was useless, and I am not sure if the one that had passed was the bus I was on. I am stunned by his generosity, however, since he soon drives back with his car—his wheelchaired companion loaded in the car for the trip.

I thank him for his generosity, and bid him a warm goodbye.

I am now completely convinced that the situation is totally hopeless. Even if I could somehow find the bus, we'd have missed our flight, and the bag would almost certainly be stolen in all the time it sat alone.

Ten minutes later—miraculously—a bus pulls up. I board it. My bag is there. What an enormous relief! I snatch it up. I assess the situation: No time and no way to let poor Maureen know what has happened as she waits for the bus 5 blocks away. I would have to just hope that she knew that I had gotten the bag back.

But it is now 5:00 p.m. The only thing I can think of is to make a desperate, wild-eyed sprint to the B&B 1.5 miles away. Uphill. In hot, dry weather. With heavy boots on. I stash the bag at the gas station and started my dash, cursing myself for not being in Olympic runner shape.

Finally, I arrive at the B&B front door. I rang the bell. The host opens the door to a guy who had sweat pouring off his body and was out of breath. "Thank you for finding my camera. Can you let me know of a cab I can use to rush to the airport immediately? Oh, and can I also use your bathroom at once?"

I cannot imagine what she is thinking as she observes this spectacle. Am I being rude or asking too much of her? Fortunately, she very graciously helps out. She calls a good taxi service she knows of. He arrives just after Maureen gets to the B&B. It is now 5:50 p.m. And we have Honolulu rush hour, 18 miles, and a plane soon to leave in front of us.

The taxi driver, thankfully, is skilled enough to get us to the airport with no time to spare. We pay him a fare and a nice tip. They start boarding the plane just as we get to the gate.

As it turns out, we would have saved time, money, and seriously stressful aggravation if we had simply paid the one day rate for a rental car.

But it is so much more politically correct to take the bus. Next time, the first question I'll have when boarding: "Is this an express or local bus?" And the first question before I get off the bus is, "Do I have my bag?"...