American Oceania - Day 7 - Pearl Harbor

9/8/17, “Pearl Harbor”

Honolulu, Oahu, Hawaii (Pearl Harbor)

75 years ago (plus 9 months and 1 day, to be precise), on a morning not dissimilar to this one, occurred the deadliest military attack on the homeland in modern American history.  It was a date that will forever live in infamy.  As I sit here, in silent remembrance of that attack and the lives lost on that day, I think how far we’ve come and about the new threats that now menace the Pacific.  Now, Japan is one of our staunchest allies against the despotic regime in North Korea.  They have one of the strongest economies in the world.

Three years ago, I paid my homage to our part in the destruction that occurred during World War II by visiting Hiroshima.  More recently, I visited the Trinity site where the bomb was first tested.  War is rarely necessary and never good, but when it happens, we must strive to end it as quickly and effectively as possible with as few losses to American lives as possible.

After the attacks of Pearl Harbor, the actions in Hiroshima and Nagasaki were the inevitable and unfortunate conclusion.  Allowing the attack to go unanswered was not an option, nor was losing millions of American lives in an invasion of mainland Japan.  President Truman made the right choice in dropping the bombs, as hard of a choice as it was to make, as did President Roosevelt in entering the war after that infamous December day 75 years ago.

As for today, though, for me, it is a day that will forever live in triumph.  I saw the Plaque, and it was glorious.  In a few hours I will be flying to American Samoa, but I will first take this time to write this entry before I head to the airport or maybe find a bar to watch the tennis.

After I closed last night, I lit up a PDR and posted my photos before going to bed.  I woke up before my alarm and got ready.  Freddie showed up right on time, and we drove to the airport.  Once more check-in was a breeze, and we departed right on time.  We arrived at HNL early, before 8 AM, and David was supposed to pick me up to take me to the NOAA Daniel K. Inouye Regional Center (IRC) at 9 AM.  He had sad he would be coming with his boss.  I had some time to kill, so I arranged to have my luggage stored for the day before I took a taxi to the restaurant where David would be picking me up.

It was 8:40 AM when I got there.  At 8:50 AM David called me to see where I was.  I told him I was already at the restaurant, so he said he would come pick me up.  This was actually happening.  About 15 minutes later, he showed up and greeted me.  I asked if he was David, and he nodded.  We got in the car, and the guy in the driver’s seat introduced himself as David.  Had I mixed the two of them up?  No, they were both named David.  To avoid confusion, I suppose, they called each other by their last names.

We drove over the bridge onto Ford Island and to the IRC.  It was glorious.  As we drove, rather than the in-depth tour that would have driven me crazy, they just gave me a few interesting tidbits that I wanted to know.  We walked into the IRC, and I recognized the Plaque from the back.  The boss went to his office, and my David stayed with me.

First we took my picture with the Plaque, and I could hardly contain my excitement.  This Plaque was well-earned.  He then showed me the other exhibits, and took me out back to see the NOAA oceanliner.  He then showed me their offices, where the WHS certificate was on display.  After that, he said he was out of things to show me, but he could take me around Ford Island if I wanted.  I very much wanted that.

We saw the Battleship Missouri and the USS Oklahoma Memorial.  That was that, and, an hour after we got on base, he drove me back to the World War II Valor in the Pacific National Monument VC.  It was a very good hour.  Now, it was kind of late to have breakfast and too early for lunch.  I wanted to just take my ceremonial picture inside the NM, but there was an issue.  No bags allowed.  I was not ready to leave my bag at storage quite yet, so I had to figure out what to do.  Part of the issue was that I just wanted to have one cigar at the NM, and I wanted to use the same cigar for the ceremonial picture and my entry.  I would have no way of bringing my laptop.

I had the hatchling of a plan.  The guard said I could go to the gift shop (to get my stamp and pin) and leave my shoulder bag with him for a few minutes.  I got my brochure, my stamp, and my pin as quickly as possible.  They gave me a large plastic bag with my souvenirs, this is key.

I could now have brunch, so I went to the restaurant where David picked me up, having liked the menu I saw while I was waiting for him.  I ordered a local specialty, which was perfect for brunch, called a loco moco.  It was a bed of brown rice, topped with a hamburger patty and too fried eggs, along with mushrooms, onions, and brown gravy.  I loved every bite.

I then carried out my plan.  I went to the baggage storage place and showed them my bag of souvenirs.  I asked if I was allowed to bring that with me.  They said that I was.  I had a cigar in my pocket, put my water bottle in another pocket.  I then took my souvenirs out of the bag, put them in my shoulder bag, and put my laptop and phone charger in the bag.  It worked like a charm.  I went in and found a nice quiet place to light up an Oliva and take my ceremonial picture.  I then sat down on a bench, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can slowly make my way back to the airport.

Daniel K. Inouye International Airport, Oahu, Hawaii

Last night, I promised I would get the Plaque today and that I would get Chicken Fries before I left.  I already recounted how I got the Plaque, and, now, I have also gotten the Chicken Fries, which were nigh as satisfying as the Plaque, but in a very different way.

After I closed at Pearl Harbor, I realized I had a solid two hours before I needed to head to the airport.  More than anything, though, I just wanted to find a bar at the airport to watch the U.S. Open Tennis Championships Semifinal match.  It would be air conditioned, and I could have anything I want to drink in front of me.  However, it felt wrong to leave two hours unused during my first time I have Officially set foot in Honolulu.  I did not need to use the full two hours, but I asked myself if there was anything that I could do.

This was very much my Aragorn moment, a concept I often think of in my travels when I bounce around a place so much without actually entering it, like all the times I connected at Ataturk before actually entering Istanbul (on my fourth time landing at the airport).  After the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, Aragorn refused to openly enter the city of Minas Tirath, as he had vowed not to set foot in the city until he can be crowned king after the defeat of Sauron.  However, many people had been badly wounded in the battle, and it had been said, “The hands of a king are the hands of a healer.”  He was the best healer available, so he entered the city in disguise and healed people before sneaking out.  While my time in Honolulu today was nowhere near as noble as Aragorn’s actions it is a similar idea.  I will return to Honolulu, to spend two days in the final leg of the trip, just as Aragorn openly returned to Minas Tirath after he was crowned.

That said, I thought of the something I knew that I absolutely needed to do at some point during this trip but my friend would have zero interest in doing: seeing the State Capitol.  I got a taxi and had him take me to the State Capitol on the way to the airport.  I took my ceremonial pictures there, which brought me to 40 out of 50, and we continued to the airport.  When we got to the airport, there was a fork, right for Hawaiian Airlines, left for the other airlines.  He turned left and then asked me what airline I needed.  I told him Hawaiian.  I was fuming.  He acted sheepishly and had to loop all the way around.  Thankfully, I was not tight on time, but the meter kept going up, not by a small amount.  I told him that he should turn off the meter since this wasn’t my fault that he made the wrong turn and now had to loop around.  He laughed and cost himself any tip I might have considered giving him.  I told him I wasn’t joking.  He left the meter running.

We got to the right place, and I noted that the meter had gone up by about 8% of the total fare, less than I would have given him for a tip if he had been competent.  I gave him a large banknote that was equal to 150% of the metered fare.  He opened the door for me and said goodbye.  I asked for my change, which he clearly wasn’t planning on giving me.  He then handed me some, but not all of my change, saying that the difference, about 10%, was his tip.  I told him he was not getting a tip, that the money he cost me by looping around was his tip.  He was not happy about it but gave me my change.

My battle with infuriating incompetence would continue.  I called the number to retrieve my luggage, but he hung up on me before I could give him my claim check number.  I called back and, again, tried to give him the number, but he, again, hung up before I could.  He showed up a few minutes later with my luggage, I suppose recognizing my phone number, or perhaps I was his only customer today.  The airport was insanely crowded, and security took a while.

I then went to a bar, where I could watch the tennis.  I ordered just a club soda and felt a little guilty, but the bar wasn’t crowded, and all I really cared about anyway was watching the match.  It was halfway through the first set, and I expected Del Porto to win the match after seeing him give Nadal quite a beating.  That changed with the second set, with Nadal winning 6-0 and Del Porto looking like he had forgotten how to play tennis.

After the second set, I went to get my Chicken Fries.  I was starving, and they hit the spot perfectly.  I headed to my gate, disappointed that there was so much outdoor green space in the airport but nowhere to smoke.  /Water, water everywhere/nor any drop to drink./  When I got to my gate, I sat down and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close, as we will soon be boarding, and my family seems eager to engage me in a video call.

Fagatogo, American Samoa

It’s spelled right, but it’s pronounced FAHN-guh-TOHN-goe.  I have been to San Juan and Charlotte Amelie and Hagatna and Capitol Hill.  I have written entries in this very Travelogue from those four territorial capitals.  Now, I am here, in Fagatogo, the capital of American Samoa.  Tomorrow, with breakfast as my first Official meal, having arrived too late tonight for dinner, I will claim American Samoa as my fifth US Territory, marking another of my Goals as Complete.

There’s also a National Park a short ways up the road.  That might be Sunday.  Due to the flight pattern, I have three days here.  I could have done 26 hours in American Samoa and called it a done deal.  It’s okay.  I now have time to relax and do laundry, which is very important, as I am about to run out of clean clothes.  Actually, on second thought, perhaps not, as it is only my dress shirts that are an issue, and I can just have them washed here at the hotel without needing to do a full load.  Either way, I have time here.  When I write again tomorrow night, Hawai’i Volcanoes National Park will be all that remains before I can say, “Mission Accomplished.”

After I closed at HNL, we soon boarded, and I was glad to have an exit row seat.  I was also suddenly hungry.  The Chicken Fries were not enough food.  They brought us snacks and drinks right away, followed by a meal, if it can be called that.  It was a little bit of chicken with a lot of rice.  It barely filled me up.  I was hungry again in an hour.  In fact, oddly, after spending most of the trip struggling to find an appetite, I was constantly starving this afternoon and evening.

I spent the plane ride creating collages of my photos that constituted my 17 Goals.  It took almost the entire plane ride, but, by the end of the flight, I had all of my collages ready for the 14 that I have thus far completed.  As always, North American World Heritage Sites was the hardest, due to the simple fact that it consists of 109 data points.  When we landed, I discovered that I had a cell signal, but no data.  In other words, I could text and call, but no web browsing or email or social media without Wi-Fi.  That was slightly disappointing.  Immigration had a long line, and I got a scare as I pulled up my hotel reservation while I was waiting.  It said that the front desk closed at 9 PM.  It was now 9:20 PM.  I tried to call the number, but my phone wasn’t working right.  Fuck.  I figured intuitively, though, that, if they had a restaurant and bar that was open until 10 PM, someone would have to be there.  I had no issue with immigration, but seeing my declaration of 50 cigars, customs wanted to search my bag.  The limit was 100.  I showed him by bag of cigars, and he confirmed it was under 100.  Maybe it was 40 or maybe it was 60, but it was definitely fewer than 100, so he let me go.  He asked where I was staying, and I told him and also asked if the hotel would still be open at this hour.  He confirmed it would be.

I soon learned that “flight night” is a BFD in Pago Pago.  They only get two or three flights a week from Honolulu, so everything stays open until 11 PM on flight night.  They even have signs to that effect.  I got my car, lit up my Cohiba on the road, and was soon at my hotel.  It was staffed to my relief, and check-in was easy, but somehow stressful.  I had left my cigar on the balcony while I resituated myself.  I went out to balcony to relight my cigar and get caught up once I was connected to the Wi-Fi.  After a bit, I rearranged the furniture, as I wanted to use the low table and chairs, but the spot where I wanted to sit had a high table and chairs.  I then proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish and post my photos before going to bed.  Hopefully tomorrow will be a smarter day of eating.  Whatever I did today, I did wrong.