A grocery store owner in Volcano recently observed that the only thing that seemed to matter on Oahu was rail.

At the time, the specific topic was the vote on whether it should be built, but through the years she'd seen the headlines in the Honolulu newspapers she sells going on and on about cost, funding and routes.

From her casual reading, she concluded that the issue's constant companion was “;all politics, yeah?”;

Tempting as it would be to agree fully, it wouldn't be fair to wrap political motivations so tightly around the project. There is at least some thought for public welfare bundled somewhere in there.

Still, each step of the process has been riddled with conflict and, make no mistake, every step taken from here on down the track will prompt the same.

Not that there's anything wrong with that. The “;largest public works project in the history of Oahu”;—as rail is often and somewhat ominously described—ought to be fought over, argued and altered to produce the best system possible. The cumulative political pushing and shoving, however, has almost reached a tipping point.

If economic failure doesn't hijack the project, battle fatigue will, not among politicians who relentlessly throw stink bombs at each other, but among the people who are paying for it both in taxes and confidence, which have always been in short supply when it comes to local government.

A mere two days after voters approved a ballot measure to back the project, the City Council decided to change the rail route through Salt Lake to run past the airport instead. Advocates of the Salt Lake pathway saw the Council's move as a bait-and-switch tactic; its chief proponent, Councilman Romy Cachola, cried foul.

Although the revision bloomed seemingly quickly and spontaneously, backroom chatter had the seed planted beforehand. True or not, its proponents are an odd-couple of Council members: Todd Apo, an ally of Mayor Mufi Hannemann's, and Charles Djou, a relentless opponent of rail and all things Mufi.

The mayor, who favored the airport route at the outset, claimed clean hands, saying the drive for the airport route came from the Council, not from him. Nonetheless, he urged the Council to move fast, sounding the alarm that the project could be delayed, even though his transportation honcho later said the change would be a “;slight”; setback.

Cachola, who by most accounts had won the route through his district in exchange for his approval of the project, called the mayor on reneging on a promise made to a Salt Lake contingent, and denied there had been a tit-for-tat.

Meanwhile, Djou had his own storyline going. Since voters had said yes to rail, he declared, he would humbly bow to their will. But, he said, he wanted rail “;done right,”; and doing so would mean going past the airport. Then he added his own twist. If the mayor really wanted to keep his promise, Djou allowed, Hannemann could veto the change.

For crying out loud. If this round of political machinations was a unique event and not the latest chapter in a tiresome drama, perhaps the public would stand for it. From funding squabbles to tussles over technology, the rail project has hit stops at almost every turn.

The public may not be able to tolerate much more and politicians who are more attentive in their careers could find themselves left at the station. Rail will affect population distribution, housing and commercial development, the environment, traffic and Honolulu's economy for decades to come. To be successful, it will need the public's confidence that their leaders can deal straight.