Walmarts kept us alive. Long live Walmart! But raise the hourly wage, OK? Hawaii on the way home. Pre-boarding, whatever that is, NOW! Vale, The Egg.
The Mr Henry Institute has been inspecting the island of O’Ahu (pronounce: oh-ah-ooh, but quickly) in the state of Hawaii. As readers know, Honolulu is situated on this island.
Nominally part of the United States, Hawaii has only adopted a few of the features that beset its ‘mainland’, specifically deficient espresso making and homelessness. They’re quite nice to their homeless here, though, who live in tents and humpies right on the most gorgeous beaches of the world. San Francisco remains the home of homelessness, of course, but Hawaii would assume that status if only it wasn’t a five hour flight away.
Obesity was always here, although it means something else than it does on the mainland, where being obese means you’re a guts and a type 2 diabetic, whereas in Hawaii it means you’re healthy and prosperous.
Other than that, Hawaii seems a different country, as it was until American business interests sidelined the monarchy and the Jesus merchants moved in to save souls in the nineteenth century.
Hawaiians are not doglovers, like mainland citizens, who seemed to have turned dogs into holy animals, like the cows of India. Mainland hotels and motels proudly advertise their “pet-friendly policy”. When an Ahhr-Vee lands at a camp ground and its door opens, out pour the poodles, the chihuahuas and other undersized vessels of vehemence, which bark at anything that moves or which they think moves. I don’t know if traditional Hawaiian cookery includes the preparation of dog meat, but if it does (and it wouldn’t surprise me if it does), the Institute endorses it with great whoops of joy.
But three days in Hawaii is too short to say anything about Hawaii itself. It left a very positive impression on Mrs Henry, who was able to watch an episode of The Voice, a show I would like if you could vote for participants on the basis of whom you hated most. Mrs Henry wants to come back here for the beaches. No concerns about the middle of nowhere, although Hawaii really is in the middle of an ocean, five hours flying from out of nowhere.
Hawaii has a Walmart and, even though we didn’t visit this particular outlet, at the end of the Institute’s field trip it is only fair to say a few kind words about this great institution.
Mrs Henry and myself bought everything we needed there during our trip in The Egg, including groceries, over-the-counter medicines, a camping stove and camping chairs. Much criticised in America for the low wages they pay their employees (something Walmart denies, although one outlet set up a basket for customers to put “food items” in for Walmart employees in need during the “festive season” – presumably employees in need chew their boots at other times), it allows people to park their cars and caravans in the parking lot and stay overnight. Some homeless people live in Walmart’s parking lots. Maybe they are employees, maybe not.
Mrs Henry and myself are at Honolulu International Airport, where it’s now time for something called “pre-boarding”, a mysterious activity in relation to flight HA 451.
A final note on the death of the Institute’s rented RV, the Egg, or Eggenschwilermobile. Following the Institute’s time at Circus Circus in Las Vegas, the Egg’s, internal lights proved to have sapped the battery and electrical circuits connected to it and generally of its will to carry on. The Egg had been stationary for too long. The separate battery powering internal camping lights, the TV and the fridge was still working, but the TV had never worked and the fridge had died somewhere along the way.
The proper car battery had to be revived every day for the rest of our trip by an American Automobile Association contractor. For free, because the Institute was a member. Yes, taking out AAA membership proved to be truly visionary decision. The Egg was, of course, a piece of shit, but a piece of shit was all the Institute could afford for its three-month field expedition.
We could hear Mr Eggenschwiler scream down the phone to this San Fran employee all the way from New Jersey when we calmly refused to pay the extra mileage charges and threatened him with the Better Business Bureau (the USA equivalent of our Fair Trading tribunals) for supplying an essentially unroadworthy vehicle.
Since we judged the Egg would never ride again, we removed the front number plate as a memento, which now decorates the lobby of the Mr Henry Institute.
Yes, much-loathed Hawaiian Airlines is urgently calling us over the PA to transport the Institute back to Sydney.
Coming, coming!
