Hawaii Diarii, Day 3, Part 1

For the curious, what I'm doing is updating every time I come back to my room, basically. Hey, I paid for the Net access, might as well use it!

• So I wandered afield to see if the sports bar would have the game on, and the fellow from the breakfast affiliated with the bar suggested that, if they didn't have it, the big sports bar up the road would. Thus began my snipe hunt of a morning. I never did find the sports bar, but I found another bar with bigger TVs. I'm planning to head back for wings and beer at 2. Yay! Mission accomplished, as the president would say. (Meaning, I'm declaring the mission accomplished before I've even found out if this new bar will carry the game.)

• Then I wandered some more and wound up having Soba noodles for breakfast/lunch.

• Got my first copy of the Honolulu Advertiser, which I believe is a co-sponser of the conference. Thin paper, but it had the New York Times crossword puzzle. I ripped through that in about 25 minutes, which astounded me, even if it is just the easy Monday puzzle. Dad probably will take about 15 minutes to finish, if he hasn't already. But I did spend about 5 of those minutes searching for a pen.

• Yes, a journalist caught without a pen. Hey, I'm on vacation this half of the week. Not only did I find a rollerball pen at one of the omnipresent ABC Stores - my favorite kind of pen - it has little monkeys on it.

• After my stint on the park bench with the puzzle, I've returned to my room to listen to Donald Trump's nearby contruction and finish my CW book, fruit smoothie in hand.

• I've changed from my Hawaiian shirt to my Lucky Monkey Casino T-shirt. I'm tired of sweating into the silk. I'd rather save it for nights out. I had a very athletic ex-girlfriend who insisted people in great shape sweat more, possibly as a way of justifying the fact that she sweated a lot, or possibly trying to convince herself she was in great shape and not the fat little thing her father said she was. (She wasn't fat. But she was in great shape.) My point is, this trip is rapidly becoming a counterargument, as I'm in about the worst shape of my life, and I'm sweating like a pig, constantly, despite the lovely ocean breeze that's constantly blowing. It's actually downright windy today.

• Another reason to come back to the room is that I forgot my watch. Those of you who know me know I normally don't wear a watch, but I tend to bring one on vacation, because I often have to be somewhere at a certain time. You know, like the sports bar at 2. Or, if anyone from work is reading, the high-intensity business seminar at 9 a.m. Wednesday. I have a $2 watch from Burger King, which isn't exactly a fashion statement, but beats fishing my cell phone out of my pocket every time I - a former junior-high clock-watcher - get the urge to know what time it is. I once bought an $80 watch on a vacation, and it broke the day after I left the city I bought it in. That pretty much ruined me for watches forever. So when Burger King had its Episode III tie-in, I didn't even bother with the Happy Meal or whatever. I just bought the watch. Say what you will about a $2 watch, but I'll bet yours isn't reversible. Mine shows Han Solo on one side AND Boba Fett on the other. Beat that, Bvlgari!

• One more thing - even though I'm finally getting the hang of the area, the street names are still giving me fits. They're all Hawaiian, and while somebody who grew up in Indian country ought to be used to odd names (Susquehanna, Shikellamy, I once lived on Catasauqua Road - try ordering anything over the phone with THAT address) I can't get used to these. I'm reduced to thinking of them as "Princess Mononoke Street," "Duke Kamehamehameha Street," "the long one that begins with a K," "the short one that begins with an H," and as I dubbed one the other day, "Princess Momomomamookie Street."

• Today, by the way, for the second time, I was handed something that was completely in Japanese. Which goes with the two times I've been asked if I'm a native. So in addition to Cambodian and Philippino and Samoan (and Chinese and Korean), I can add Hawaiian (I get the feeling the locals are sort of hefty by nature, so I don't feel particularly flattered) and Japanese to the list of things I've been mistaken for or accused of being.

I'm off. Edmund Kirby Smith, commander of the Trans-Mississippi, awaits. Then John Bell Hood and it's another book I can check and don't have to carry. I have no idea how I'm going to fit everything into my suitcase. I barely got it shut the first time around, and I've bought three shirts, three stuffed animals and a gift for Mom already. Plus my targets and whatever crap I'm sure I'll be able to snag at the convention.

In a final crisis note, I'm running out of socks. I've been wearing my sneakers around - saving the sharper shoes for the con, when I'll wear pants, and barely being able to walk in my new beach-y flipflops - and I only brought like six pairs of white socks, which I'm averaging about a pair-and-a-half a day on. Got plenty of nice sharp dress socks, but I don't think they match my cargo shorts.

On to the next part!