I had to go to Honolulu when I was nineteen. Did I have much cash? No. Any credit cards? Again no. But I had itchy feet so of course I could travel.
Six months earlier, I’d been to Honolulu with my parents who’d won a trip to the island. Considering I came from the cold Canadian prairies in February, I spent most of my time on the beach, which was where I met David who lived in Waikiki.
After I left, this David and I kept in touch through letters. (This was long before cheap long distance and FaceTime.)
“What’s keeping you?” he kept writing. “Come stay with me and my mom.”
After cashing in a savings bond – my own mother was not impressed – I had enough to buy an open airline ticket. Could I last 6 weeks on my financial fumes? Of course I could.
When David met me at the airport, he surprised me with two news flashes: 1) he’d booked off work for two weeks to be with me every single moment and 2) he’d shuffled his mom off to her sister’s place to “give us privacy.”
But I didn’t want privacy, I wanted to party in Hawaii, with or without David. And I didn’t want to be serenaded by guitar that first night. Worse, I didn’t want to make love – his words, not mine. When did this friendship become a promise of sex and 24/7 togetherness? What did I miss in his letters?
I felt awful but at nineteen I had to be me. Period. That meant I had to leave, which I did two days later. And that also meant I’d have to stay in a hotel on my own dime.
Phone my parents to send money? Oh no, no no no. You bought the ticket, girlie, you take the ride. Admit that my ‘grand plan’ wasn’t working? Not a chance.
Shlepping the streets with my non-rolling suitcase, I found a tiny place that was cheap and walking distance to the beach. Before I’d unpacked, a herd of cockroaches circled my feet, one the size of a mouse. Others skittered over the bed and more dropped from the ceiling when I was using the toilet! I was out of there within minutes.
My second cheap hotel was further from the beach and while I didn’t see any roaches, I did find several pod-like growths on the curtains. What were these two-inch shell-like creatures? Oh well, they weren’t moving, I could live with that.
What I couldn’t live with was the screaming woman who wandered my street at midnight and the nearby sound of gunshots, three times that night. The area felt sketchy and I had to leave.
For a better cheap hotel, I moved way outside of Waikiki and had to catch a bus to the beach and back each day. That’s okay, I still had Hawaiian sand, surf and sunshine.
Eat? Who has to eat? Or shop. Ah, the sand in my flip flops felt good.
Good thing I bought that open ticket because on travel day, I had nothing left except for a Canadian $20. I was ready to head to the airport but I was starving! While checking out, I begged the desk clerk, “Would you pul-lease give me a few US dollars? I’m so hungry.”
“Sorry,” he said. “We can’t exchange money.”
A man standing in the lobby called out, “I’ll buy you lunch, I was just about to go eat.”
The guy, somewhere in his thirties, was also staying at the hotel. “Order anything you want,” he told me in the restaurant and when saying goodbye, he wouldn’t take my $20. What a sweetheart! At least I caught the bus to the airport with a full stomach.
My time in Hawaii lasted only two weeks, not six. But did I have fun and several adventures? Hey, I was nineteen. Of course I did.
And I did it my way, with or without enough money.