An Excellent Adventure

       More Letters From Paradise

        An Excellent Adventure

      My wild-haired friend from Tennessee, Ray, came by a couple of days before my birthday, and asked Tonto if he could take me to lunch. You see, someone should be with me at all times in case I have a repeat seizure. This most always has to be Tonto. So when he asked, she was pretty sure that he knew his numbers, and could find and call 911. I wasn't so sure, but decided to go with him anyway. This left Tonto to do all those things that girls do when they are not taking care of men.
       And so off we went in Ray's red painted Jeep.  With all of his wild hair, he is often looked at by the locals as one of them. That is until he speaks with the sound of Tennessee. Our destination was La Mariana, the last tiki bar in Honolulu. (I should explain that a tiki is a god. And there are many of them. They are most often carved from wood,have angry faces, and are sold to tourists.)  La Mariana has a sailing club and a good restaurant. Many carved tikis are seen on posts.  It is the first stop for people we meet at the airport, sometimes for lunch, or dinner, depending when their flight lands.
      La Mariana is located on Sand Island, in a very industrialized section. Very poor-looking, area. This place seldom sees tourists, unless someone tells them about the place.  There is a small strip mall and a couple of gas stations after you turn on Sand Island Access Road.
   You enter between tiki carved posts, to find yourself in a seedy-looking tropical bar. I heard a woman once say that she expected to see Humphrey Bogart walk through the door at any time. The ceiling is covered with fishing nets, and glass floats. There are also large lamps with shades made from scallop shells. Tiny lights shine amid the fishing nets, always ready for Christmas.  And in one corner, a live tree extends up through the roof. Tables and chairs are scattered throughout the room. A row of booths line one wall, with a glass ceiling over the area. Sort of an attempt at creating an atrium. There is a bar set back against another wall, and the kitchen that remains hidden. I feel that some of the charm was lost when they replaced some of the high-backed, and regular chairs with their greased stained arms.
The place had been owned by a 90-year-old woman whose name I fail to remember. She died a couple of years ago, but the place continues to be operated by a loyal group. She could most always be seen seated at a small table, with her dog at her feet, looking out over her patrons. There is a small memorial of photos placed there now.
      She also employed blind piano players, who played so loud sometimes that you simply could not talk over the music. And blind piano players continue the tradition. But the music is less loud.
      Sorry, I just got carried away. On with the adventure. Ray and I ordered (mah-mahi and burger). I asked to see the woman manager. She remembered me, and I asked how my suggestion worked. She told me that she did as I had said. Flies had often been a big problem. I had told her to take a quart freezer bag and fill it a third or half with water and suspend these bags along the edge of the roof. I had learned this trick at another restaurant here on the island. It seems to work. Why it does, we still are not sure, but think it has to do with the fact that flies have many eyes and the watter filled bags must appear large and fill them with fright. Anyway, the manager was filled with joy and to thank me, picked-up our $25  tab.
      On with the adventure. Sand Island is the home to the Coast Guard, and they moor two big ships there. They are about the size of Naval Destroyers. There is one area of wood buildings dating from WWII or earlier, which are riddled with termites. You can see the damage from the road. I think that without street noise, you could have heard them chewing. I wanted to show Ray one particular building which housed a museum and army surplus store. It had been some time since I had been there with my friend Paul, and it was no longer there. This was also the building where bodies of our guys were returned from Vietnam. I wrote all about this in my old "Letters From Paradise."
      Along there also are the places where shipping containers are loaded and unloaded. This is where you go if you want to ship your car to the mainland. Across the road are several huge fuel tanks.
     You must cross a bridge shortly after leaving La Mariana.  Continuing on out to the end of the island are a number of small raised bunkers, once used to store ammunition. Sand Island was also once used as an internment camp for loyal American Japanese.  Today there are picnic tables, showers, and toilets. There is also a large red dirt baseball field.
      Well, our adventure ended and I'm glad I didn't get a chance to see if Ray knew  his numbers.

               Aloha
               Grant