Think Hawaii is American? Think Again.
When I write on how to think like a Hawaiian I am talking about the residents of our 50th state.
That would be Hawaii, of which we all agree is the 50th state, except for a Japanese luxury car manufacturer whose name begins with an L.
Apparently, this carmaker does not consider Hawaii a part of the United States. If you buy one of their luxury sedans in, say, L.A., and then ship it to Hawaii, your car warranty will not be covered in the state. According to this Japanese carmaker, the Hawaiian Islands do not make up a part of the United States; Hawaii is in the Asia region, their Asia region. It’s as if they won the war!
But no worries if you are a local and buy your luxury sedan in Hawaii. No problem there. It’s only if you buy your car on the Mainland and ship it to the island that this carmaker will give you a hard time.
No word, however, on who takes responsibility if your car ends up in the drink while being shipped across the Pacific on a container ship. Your auto insurance company will not cover your loss if your car settles on the ocean bottom. According to your auto insurer, your car is officially “out of the country,” just as if you made a jaunt into Tijuana.
Welcome to the wacked-out world of local Hawaii, the state where the only way to properly park a car is by backing in.
Locals prefer the lengthy method of backing into a parking space rather than simply nosing in like stupid Mainlanders. In the Aloha State, it’s de rigueur to back in, back and forth, until you’ve created a long line of running cars waiting for their own chance to back into spaces. The preferred venue for this activity? A narrow, cramped Waikiki parking garage is best.
Ah, you Mainlanders have it all wrong. You believe the locals are sweet islanders, wearing Aloha shirts, swaying at sunset to ukelele strums. But let me tell you that the ugly underside of Hawaii consists of complete nonsense of the Lewis Carroll variety.
To wit: we know that Hawaii is an actual American state with serious elections involving candidates and ballots just as on the continental U.S. But where else are campaigns conducted on street corners with signs, waves and smiles? Candidate supporters for the lowliest school board member up to a statehouse official believe that you’ll vote for their man or woman simply because you’ve read their sign at an intersection.
Here’s an important tip: that smiling, waving man or woman you see wearing a lei? That’s the actual candidate.
But I really want to write about how much Hawaii is American. For example, at Thanksgiving expect a serving of turkey as well as Japanese saimin, Korean kalbi, misubi (a local Spam sushi, I kid you not), Philippine Adobo or Portuguese sausage. Your macaroni salad will be served with a giant mound of rice. For dessert, adzuki beans on your ice cream. When Christmas Eve rolls around, it’s barbecue time. This is when your Spam is served grilled.
That’s thinking like a Hawaiian.
And I want to tell you about how, on Mother’s Day, the local boys joyously celebrate the start of Oahu’s South Shore surfing season. And I want to tell you about that special night when you’ll hear the fireworks popping island-wide – on New Year’s Eve. That’s when locals merrily ignite and launch Costco-sized bundles of fireworks from every driveway and beachfront, casting a hanging pall of smoke as thick as a San Diego brushfire over every island neighborhood.
To think like a Hawaiian means that it’s not a contradiction that the federal government has built an Interstate Highway across Oahu, the H-1. And you accept this notion despite the fact that this ‘Interstate’ fails to enter another state, much less another county. But thinking like a Hawaiian, it makes perfect sense – how else are you going to get over the Pali cliffs to arrive at the Honolulu airport on time?
Finally, all this nonsense makes sense when you remember the state motto, Ua Mau Ke Ea O Ka Aina I Ka Pono.
That means “The Life of the Land is Perpetuated in Righteousness.” And that makes no sense at all.
