The So-Not-Accidental Tourist
With my time in Hawaii dwindling, I really needed to beef up my tourist cred. Without an aloha shirt or a room at the Hilton Hawaiian Village, my work was cut out for me. In a daring tourist move, I decided to walk around downtown Honolulu toting a pineapple under my arm and a bulge in my shorts that was so clearly my digital camera I was sure to be a mark for muggers, swindlers, and timeshare hawkers. But I strayed. I ended up in the Lyon Arboretum. What had I done? This was so obviously not a tourist attraction. How did I know, you ask? It did not boast being voted "The Most Authentic Luau/Village/Polynesian Cultural Event/Sunset/etc." in Hawaii! I was a rookie, a hack. No seer of sights was I. But then, when all seemed lost, I pulled off a tourist coup. A group of Japanese tourists, clearly skilled in the ancient art of shudderbuggery, appeared. Sensing their aura of prefab experience, I got them to take a picture of me standing under a baobab tree. It was wonderful. I'm certain to get full membership into the Tourists Local 808 now. It was beautiful. As the Japanese man gave me back my camera, seemingly breathing a sigh of relief as his wife returned his own camera to his waiting hand, a tear appeared in my eye. And as I wiped away that tear, I could swear it winked at me and said "Hang loose." Mahalo, little tear. Mahalo.