He sits at the table behind me and then a little to the left. All by his lonesome self, but don’t look now. I’d say about 60 or so, slightly overweight, longish gray hair, due for a barber’s cut about two months ago. Pitcher of beer in front of him, occasionally filling his glass. Wearing a ‘used to be’ mostly cream colored Hawaiian shirt about two sizes too small ripping at the seams. And, of course, the obligatory tan shorts, also in tatters and a pair of worn out flip-flops on his feet. Crap! It’s almost like I’m describing myself here.
Behind him a table of twelve, so that’s really two tables behind me. All these people wearing lanyards with some official documentation attached to it around their necks. Decently dressed, but not overly. Golf shirts, rather than shirt and ties. Women ditto. I’d say a convention, but I have no idea if there is a convention center anywhere near here. Age, between thirty and fifty I guess. Although, I usually am out by plus or minus twenty years or so, so don’t take my word on that one.
It’s Sunday, late afternoon. I’m in the huge Ala Moana Hawaii’s Center, an ‘upscale four-level shopping mall’ – not my words, merely taken off their website. – After four days of visiting this place, which happen to be conveniently located close to the marina, I still get lost within five minutes after walking through the doors. However, I can usually make my way to Shirokiya, the Japanese Village Walk, located in the mall at street level, in not too long a time. Pretty confident about that and next door to Starbucks that is.
The Japanese Village Walk is space of about 65,000 ft2, sporting 32 food kiosks, although I couldn’t order anything vegetarian, five exhibition rooms with art from Japan, a vintage cave bakery boasting about their use of Shirakami – Kodama yeast in their breads. 56 stores, a radio studio and last, but certainly not least, five service counters with $1,- beers. Draft, and not in those mickey mouse glasses either. Proper size beer glasses. However, People like me, living high on the hog, bypass these one dollar beers and head straight for the two dollar Heinekens. And if I really want to splurge, a three dollar Guinness is also in the realm of possibilities.
Back to that table of twelve, to those potentially convention type of people. Judging by the number of empty and full pitchers littering their table, they had been there for a while. Loud too, but the whole place is very loud. I don’t think proper acoustics was a big deal in the design of the place. No sheets hanging off the sealing though, I have seen that in places to dampen the noise. Eight men and four women. Mostly one woman talking in a group of eight and four men at the end of the table engrossed in their own conversation. Lots of laughter from these four while they consume most of the beer at the table, again judging from the full and empty pitchers. Big pitchers too, 60 ounces, eight dollars for the Heineken.
The one woman in the group of eight is on her politically high horse. From where I sit I cannot follow her monologue and with that, of course, neither her reasoning, but I do get her passion. Coming across loud and clear. She obviously doesn’t like Donald Trump, big deal, lots of people don’t like him. I’m looking at her now, sitting with my back to my table. With much waiving of her arms she articulates, much louder now than before, that she also doesn’t like people who like Donald Trump and voted for him. So there, there you have it, with one sentence she instantly eliminated a good chunk of the population of becoming her best friend forever. I bet everybody cares.
I clue in that she is talking about the proposed tariffs, or maybe the tariffs that are already in place on foreign products coming into the United States. Not sure which one, but it is all wrong and you know whose fault that is? Not exactly a trick question. And on clue, It is that Trump, Trump and his ……. And she is looking around searching for the right words. Could have been anything, his merry man, a little Robin Hoodies perhaps, or, his cabinet, his party, his people, anything, but no, in the end, she went for ‘his drunken sailors’. Where did that come from? Trump and his drunken sailors.
And here is where the man in his used to be cream colored Hawaiian shirt comes to life. He was sitting with his back to the woman’s table and I have no idea how much he had heard. But he turns around now and in a voice, tarnished from years of being a Marlboro man, he shouts, “Excuse me lady”.
But lady is not hearing the man. So again, “Excuse me lady”. Louder. Nothing. But the man next to the lady in question notices the man, as does everybody else but her and smartly pokes an elbow between some of her ribs and nods to the man, indicating somebody is trying to talk to you. She looks at the man, lifts her chin as to say, “What’s up?”
Man raises his glass and says, “Lady I don’t know you, I don’t think we have ever met, but I take great offense to what you say there.“
“So what?” she says, “Are you one of those people that voted for Trump?” She was showing some teeth here. I think quite a few people were listening now.
“Say what?” the man says and takes a pull from his glass. It’s a pause, I can tell he is playing his audience. “Nah, I never voted for him.” Another pull, another pause. “I take offense to you calling them drunken sailors. I happen to be a drunken sailor myself.” Another pause, then he adds, “On occasion. And I don’t appreciate you liken me to any of those clowns.” Yes, she could have picked ‘Trump and his clowns’ and this verbal exchange would not have happened. But she didn’t. Brilliant, it almost quiets the place down, the table of twelve really liking it and to her credit, so does she.
The man turns around and fills his glass from his Pitcher. He clearly enjoys himself. Around him people give him the thumbs up or flash a smile of approval. He grins.