Aloha!
It's quiet in Waikiki tonight. A little too quiet.
On a normal night, or day, or span of 60 minutes in Waikiki, a loud and familiar sound can be heard. It isn't the song of the bird that likes to come into my room when I leave the lanai door open, nor is it the sound of serious study being done (as if that's familiar to anybody). It is produced every time a cat is stuck in a tree, or a couple of clear stiletto-wearing damsels engage in a catfight. Every time a tubby American's arteries get clogged with grease from their third helping of a McDonald's triple-quarter pounder, you'll hear the loud and familiar sound.
Sirens. And no, I'm not attempting to say "silence" in a terrible Japanglish accent.
It seems as though tonight there are no cats stuck in trees, no prostitutes fighting over a midnight blue shade of eyeshadow. The people at McDonalds must only be eating salads. This is the perfect night for me to study, but at the same time I'm just waiting for the sirens to go off. It is currently 8:53pm. Let's see how long this takes...
9:27pm - there they go. It's still relatively early. Perhaps the hookers haven't started their shifts yet, but it's also past dinner time, past the hour of overindulgence for the fatty-boomsticks. Therefore - by process of elimination - somewhere in the ahupua'a (land division) of Waikiki, on the branch of a koa tree, there must be a cat that sees no path to safety. Off goes the fire truck to collect it, sirens blazing.
Remind me to one day write about all the cats on campus.
A hui hou!
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