Increasingly we are told that our role as citizens during this time of civilizational tragedy, this time of national mourning, is to stop dwelling on our own feelings and start spending money again. Forgetting for the moment that this portrait of the masses as mindless, materialistic lemmings is one our enemies might have fashioned, the exhortations -- "Go to a Yankee game," begs Rudy Giuliani; "See a Broadway show," says Rosie O'Donnell -- blithely ignore the pain of millions of Americans, many of whom are still in the first stages of grieving the awfulness of it all. Trolley ride reflects
somber isle moodBy Scott Vogel
svogel@starbulletin.comOr so my thoughts ran while taking a ride on a nearly empty Waikiki Trolley last week -- my contribution to revitalizing the local economy -- as the tram glided silently past half-barren beaches and down unfestive (unless you count the flags) streets. (For the moment such gestures are voluntary, though one wonders how long it will be before some enterprising local politician demands that each of us do our part to boost Waikiki tourism via trips to the Polynesian Cultural Center and the Hard Rock Cafe.)
DING, DING, DING goes the bell as driver Leonard Kaneakua approaches each stop on this windy, cloudy, unpostcard-like Sunday afternoon. A small American flag hangs from the bell rope. He has just told us to keep our hands and feet inside the trolley, employing a joke to make his point.
"If your toes are sticking out of the trolley and you get hurt, we gotta call a toe truck," he says. Silence. The palm trees wave limply in the wind. I catch the glances of my fellow trolley riders, each of whom seems to want to laugh but can't. I decide to chuckle audibly as a gesture of support. Kaneakua knows I'm faking it.
We pass the Hyatt Regency Waikiki, which he dutifully informs us is "our fourth-largest hotel." He does not say that two of the hotel's restaurants have been forced to close in the wake of the Sept. 11 tragedy or that performances of Rubber Soul ("Hawaii's All-Beatles Band") have abruptly ceased there.
At a stoplight on Kalakaua, another trolley pulls up alongside us. "Smile," Kaneakua says to the glum-faced driver in the adjacent vehicle. She produces an exaggerated grin before pulling off.
Turning west, we cruise alongside the Ala Wai Canal, or, as our driver puts it, "the most polluted body of water in the Hawaiian Islands."
For some reason this piece of news inspires several trolley riders to snap pictures. Otherwise, the passengers make not a sound, except when we come across an argument on the sidewalk in front of Golden Dolls Showgirls on Keeaumoku, a tussle that goes uncommented upon by our driver.
Soon we've arrived at our next stop, the bell ringing as we approach Daiei on Kaheka. No one departs the trolley at this point, despite Kaneakua's informing us that there is a KFC on the premises. No one gets off at the Ross Dress for Less stop further up, either, or the Sports Authority stop where, in addition to sporting equipment, "9 mm pistols and 12-gauge shotguns" are available for purchase.
We drive up Ward past the Dixie Grill marquee ("Help the Red Cross -- Give Till the Hurting Stops") and on to the state Capitol, whose flags are newly raised to full staff.
And then things turn eerily quiet again as we make the slow ascent to Punchbowl Crater, Kaneakua having turned off his audio equipment in deference to local residents. Flags large and small wave furiously as the tram glides slowly past the windswept gravestones. There's something oddly appropriate, even comforting, about a trip to a cemetery during somber times like these.
But soon we're back in the world of goods and commerce, the trolley alighting on Aloha Tower, Big Kmart ("We call this the Blue Light District") and then the Hilo Hattie plant in rapid succession. In the latter's parking lot, you could, in former times, pose with a parrot in front of a fake Diamond Head backdrop. These days, apparently, you can pose with a parrot and an American flag in front of a fake Diamond Head backdrop.
Now running ahead of schedule, the trolley pauses for a few minutes at Hilo Hattie. I ask Kaneakua about the recent dramatic decline in tourism. His voice is sullen yet calm. "For a few days we were going around empty," he says of the period immediately following Sept. 11. And indeed, trolley service has been reduced by half until recently, the trams coming only every hour, rather than the half-hour promised by the signs at trolley stops ("due to the incidents in the mainland," said a notice at the ticket booth).
"You've got a nice load," shouts another trolley driver further along the route once our slow, strange journey nears its end. Kaneakua seems uncertain as to whether the man is being facetious. "I guess people really are coming to Hawaii," he finally responds, his tone both ironic and sincere at once.
When: Leaves every 30 minutes from 8:30 a.m. to 7 p.m. The Waikiki Trolley
Where: Corner Royal Hawaiian Ave. and Kalakaua Ave.
Cost: $18
Call: 593-2822 or www.waikikitrolley.com
Click for online
calendars and events.
