the weekend
Friday afternoon:
My boss's business partner, a Chinese gentleman who has been described as "intense," enters, stage right:
"I'm leaving now for the Carnival. I hope you all come to the Carnival. I hope you all run into my son, who is in charge of the Carnival. I hope my son has a good time, in spite of the rain, at the Carnival. I hope my son doesn't cry because no one comes to the Carnival."
The "Carnival," locally, means the Punahou School carnival. Punahou is the most famous private high school in Honolulu (Michelle Wie goes there, among other kids), and the 2-day carnival every February features more rides than the Alaska State Fair.
Photo courtesy of the Honolulu Star-Bulletin.
Friday night:
Immediately after work, I get off the bus at Punahou Street and begin the 3-block walk along the narrow sidewalk and over the freeway to the Carnival. The atmosphere is still muggy and cloudy in the gray twilight, because it's been raining all day. Everyone I meet has mud up to their knees. I meet a LOT of people on the way to the Carnival. And they all have the glazed-eyed delirious happy look of people who've just seen a vision at Lourdes. I have no worries for the feelings of any of the kids in charge of the Carnival.
Avoiding the midway, I walk down the utility road the length of the lawn, under the palms, beside the brown volcanic rock wall with the gnarly Christmas cactus crowded on top (upper-class barbed wire). The compressor truck is as loud as a jackhammer. At length, I find the huge blue-and-yellow-striped tent containing the rummage sale and--most important--the BOOK SALE. It's bright and vivid and steaming in the blackness. Kids are screaming upside-down in the high air outside. Top-40 music is playing over the midway sound system. Hot glowing lights shine everywhere.
Okay, so I stayed two hours and almost fainted in the heat. I found a Biggles omnibus, a 20s French novel, an Italian Uncle Scrooge comic, several art books, the poetry of Matthew Arnold, and a thesis on Iranian religious drama. And some other cool stuff I was too tired to inventory. They accept only script in payment, so I spent my remaining $4.50 in tickets on a cup of coffee and 9 malasadas (Portuguese doughnuts, a Punahou Carnival specialty).
Saturday morning/afternoon:
It's cloudless and blazing hot. I return twice and find 3 *killer* books on Angkor Wat, a bunch of illustrated history books, Durrell's Alexandria Quartet complete in box ($1), and a bunch of other neat stuff. Spend remaining script on a Coke and a vegetarian gyro. *Yum*
Late Saturday afternoon:
Realize I should actually study for the Bar exam. Proceed to do same, calliope music echoing through my head.
Saturday night/Sunday morning/Sunday night:
BLACK at insistence of those who wish to remain blogless. I'm dressed in a slightly shorter skirt than usual at work, because I didn't get home.
My boss's business partner, a Chinese gentleman who has been described as "intense," enters, stage right:
"I'm leaving now for the Carnival. I hope you all come to the Carnival. I hope you all run into my son, who is in charge of the Carnival. I hope my son has a good time, in spite of the rain, at the Carnival. I hope my son doesn't cry because no one comes to the Carnival."
The "Carnival," locally, means the Punahou School carnival. Punahou is the most famous private high school in Honolulu (Michelle Wie goes there, among other kids), and the 2-day carnival every February features more rides than the Alaska State Fair.
Photo courtesy of the Honolulu Star-Bulletin.
Friday night:
Immediately after work, I get off the bus at Punahou Street and begin the 3-block walk along the narrow sidewalk and over the freeway to the Carnival. The atmosphere is still muggy and cloudy in the gray twilight, because it's been raining all day. Everyone I meet has mud up to their knees. I meet a LOT of people on the way to the Carnival. And they all have the glazed-eyed delirious happy look of people who've just seen a vision at Lourdes. I have no worries for the feelings of any of the kids in charge of the Carnival.
Avoiding the midway, I walk down the utility road the length of the lawn, under the palms, beside the brown volcanic rock wall with the gnarly Christmas cactus crowded on top (upper-class barbed wire). The compressor truck is as loud as a jackhammer. At length, I find the huge blue-and-yellow-striped tent containing the rummage sale and--most important--the BOOK SALE. It's bright and vivid and steaming in the blackness. Kids are screaming upside-down in the high air outside. Top-40 music is playing over the midway sound system. Hot glowing lights shine everywhere.
Okay, so I stayed two hours and almost fainted in the heat. I found a Biggles omnibus, a 20s French novel, an Italian Uncle Scrooge comic, several art books, the poetry of Matthew Arnold, and a thesis on Iranian religious drama. And some other cool stuff I was too tired to inventory. They accept only script in payment, so I spent my remaining $4.50 in tickets on a cup of coffee and 9 malasadas (Portuguese doughnuts, a Punahou Carnival specialty).
Saturday morning/afternoon:
It's cloudless and blazing hot. I return twice and find 3 *killer* books on Angkor Wat, a bunch of illustrated history books, Durrell's Alexandria Quartet complete in box ($1), and a bunch of other neat stuff. Spend remaining script on a Coke and a vegetarian gyro. *Yum*
Late Saturday afternoon:
Realize I should actually study for the Bar exam. Proceed to do same, calliope music echoing through my head.
Saturday night/Sunday morning/Sunday night:
BLACK at insistence of those who wish to remain blogless. I'm dressed in a slightly shorter skirt than usual at work, because I didn't get home.
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