My sister is currently on spring break from the crazy kiddos at school, so I had a partner in crime this week to help me whittle away the hours. She decided that this would be a great opportunity to get some time in on our surfboards, to my chagrin. I am less than excited, because: a) I have a cheap board and it is a little too short, so my feet hang off the end of it making me look EXACTLY like a yummy seal snack for a shark. b) I suck, and spring break means that there will be many more competent kids on the beach to point and laugh at the stupid haole (me). Well, several hours later, I concluded that I should have gone with my gut. There is a good local beach for surfing nearby is called White Plains - nothing special, but good wave breaks. So we head out with me driving because the boards fit in my car. Lo and behold, as we pulled up to the beach, we saw a sign that says 'ID Checkpoint' which causes me to curse loudly in my head, as I never bring my wallet (and hence, ID) to the beach, due to theft issues. Sure enough, the military police are less than impressed I'm driving without a licence. Wallowing in self-pity for our thwarted surfing and pending ticket, we were still curious as to why there was a checkpoint for a crappy beach. When asked, the only reply we got from the cops was that they were 'trying to keep out people who shouldn't be there'. ???? We were perplexed, and spent the next 30 minutes that it took them to write me a ticket trying to figure out who doesn't belong on a public beach, and how a driver's licence would be a deciding factor. I must admit, I haven't seen any Al-Qaeda around. Maybe bomb-toting little old ladies? I don't think 'terrorist' is listed as a restriction right next to the 'must drive with corrected lenses.' So, I then proceeded to have the most awkward cop interaction ever, which included a moment when, after asking my weight, (135) he got all excited and loudly proclaimed that HIS wife weighs 139 lbs! I am not sure what response he was waiting for, so I muttered something affirmative and unintelligible as he went off to circle my car for maybe the 128th time while my sister attempted to suppress her laughter in the passenger's seat.
It turns out that not only do I not have a driver's licence, but I am also missing my registration, some Hawaiian safety check paperwork that they don't require in TX, and my name is not on the insurance card for some weird reason. I spent that 30 minutes trying to go for the cute-and-innocent flustered housewife who doesn't know what is going on, and DEFINITELY does not need to get 4 tickets. In the end I ended up with only the one, thank goodness. A logical person might have taken this as a sign to go home, but thankfully for entertainment purposes, I am not. Not to be thwarted, Courtney knew of another beach that might have decent swells. So we proceeded even deeper into Ewa territory, which took us through the Hawaiian Ghet-to! I mean, wow. I think my favorite house was the 'mansion' with the gigantic roaring lions perched on all the top corners of the house, nicely accented by peeling paint and maybe 30 old (and usually gold) Mercedes Benz artistically arranged in the front yard. I felt all at home - just like Texas hillbillies. Some things cross state lines. I was feeling a little nervous, because locals love to prey upon unsuspecting tourists. When I say 'prey' I mean 'break into their cars and steal stuff, or the car itself'. So we parked at the beach lot, and dragged our boards across the field to the beach. I was feeling pretty good about the car, because there is a guy sitting in a much nicer car right next to ours. So no worries.
We finally get to the beach, and notice that there are little warning flyers staked in intervals all along the beach. Expecting a jellyfish or riptide warning, imagine our surprise when we read the sign and it says this instead:
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Courtney and I turned to each other, exchanged an incredulous look, and then simultaneously glanced up to look at the few families scattered around the beach, focusing on the toddler who was currently digging a huge hole around himself, a foot away from his mom. We were dumbfounded. Her other child was playing in the shore break, where lots of things get stirred up. I was only mildly confused why she would still bring her kids to this beach. Having observed the Hawaiian school system in action, I realized it could be highly probable that she could not read. *I realize this is a gross and probably unfair stereotype, but get ready - here's some more.* Hawaiians in general are just laid-back about their kids to the point of neglect sometimes. Being out and around during the weekdays much more this past month has given me a perspective I haven't had before - but they just run wild no matter where they are. Stores, beaches, endangered animals - the parent usually doesn't care until someone starts spurting blood. 1st birthdays are big over here - it is like a quincinera in Hispanic cultures. Maybe the parents get so worn out after putting on that production that the kids are on their own from then on. anyway, I am rambling.
So there we are, huddling on our boards since we are too scared to sit in the sand, yet still feeling the need to put in the time to make the trip worth it. After about 5 minutes of this, I turned to Courtney and remarked that it wasn't every day that you can get a ticket AND a chance at hepatitis. We left the beach.
Curious, I later looked the beach up in a travel guide to see how it was described -
"A local favorite, this beach offers a wide sandy expanse the whole family can enjoy, with nice views (of what - rusty cars!?) and good boogie-boarding opportunities." (condensed version)
Pack up the minivan! I can't imagine why they would have left off the Needle Surprise attraction.
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