Waikiki is a perfect location for its purpose, which is tourism.
Everything in Waikiki is explicitly tailored for the visitor and less for the local. That is not to say that locals cannot visit Waikiki for a stay at one of the many hotels, great and lesser. The best way to serve the Waikiki machine as a local is to work there, where you are taught to be more accommodating to the visitor and less so to the local, but in a diminutive manner so as not to be publicly accused of discrimination. Yes, believe it or not, being Hawaiian in Hawai’i is difficult because the more native you look, the more scrutiny is heaped upon you, even by other Hawaiians. If you stay in your cultural lane, then you’re fine. No one bothers you for the most part.In the heart of Waikiki is a path behind the shopping complex that allows anyone passage through the back property of a hotel without impunity. Even in the early evening, while dressed in a casual suit, security from the adjoining property made it a point to follow me from the hotel to the end of the shopping complex. On many occasions, they followed me into a convenience store and followed me through the aisles until I selected my items and completed my purchase. I can’t say I’m not used to this kind of treatment, but it’s happened at a Kapolei Target store with a security guard who has obviously watched too many episodes of Navy Seals. One day, the social media pages are flooded with news reports that this very same hotel has fallen under the scrutiny of cultural elders, practitioners, and other Hawaiian organizations for mishandling ancient bones they discovered while trying to expand their spa to give it a more Middle Eastern atmosphere. The Hawaiian people and the various Hawaiian organizations refused to let up. They put together protests and impromptu workshops, explaining and sharing the history of the property to anyone who would listen. Listen, they did, and they joined the protest. More so, there was continued coverage on the news regarding the incident.
Behind closed doors, the problem wasn’t so much the protests and outrage; it was the spirits of the mishandled bones that began to do things on the property. Guests were complaining about Hawaiian spirits standing at the foot of their beds, and others claimed that they were physically yanked out of their beds while in a dead sleep. Guests also mentioned coming down with a bad case of anxiety for no reason, and being in a full elevator of people who get off on a penthouse floor that turns out not to exist. What proves more interesting is that guests say that they lose a sense of time, and that corridors on particular floors seem to have no end.
I was inundated with emails that needed a reply, and text messages from people who claimed their homes were haunted. Coupled with more deadlines and appointments, I was being pulled in several directions all at once. It was at the pinnacle of all of this that my phone rang. I put it on speaker while I typed away on my Word document. It turned out to be some management person from the very hotel whose security decided I was some kind of threat to their property and personal circle in general.
“Aloha?” I said while fastidiously typing page after page.
“This is Belinda Oishi from the Waikiki Ali’i Hotel. I’m calling on behalf of the general manager.” She sounded stressed and on the verge of tears.
“Alright,” I replied.
“The general manager wants to know if you can come and do a blessing for the entire property; a lot is going on,” Belinda said. “Obviously, these protestors are blocking entry to our property, and it’s affecting our guests.”
“Sure,” I said. “I’ll park at IMP and walk over.
“I’ll be at the front desk,” she said before hanging up.
45 minutes later, that was the case. I walked from the IMP parking and was soon to enter the property. The protesters were on all sides of the hotel, but I managed to make my way through without incident. However, while entering through the lobby, I could see the person, Belinda, standing at the front desk, because her name tag was lettered large enough that I couldn’t miss it. The same security guards from the previous incident cut me off and began escorting me off the property. Belinda came and squashed the incident while simultaneously reprimanding the security guards. I kept walking and left. By the time Belinda came chasing after me, I had already crossed Kalakaua Avenue and was walking back to IMP. My phone rang, and there were voicemails and text messages from Belinda, but I never answered. Neither did I open the emails she sent later.. What was the point?
Within a short time on the evening news, it was revealed that those same security guards were killed in a freak accident when a tour van driver plowed into them. A fanny pack somehow got lodged under the brake pedal. They met their gruesome demise at the literal foot of an inept tour van driver. I’m not sure if the property ever received a proper blessing, but what I can tell you is that a blessing was never needed. A sacrifice was. It’s what happens when developers don’t listen and build a hotel in Waikiki over the foundation of a heiau. An ancient temple of human sacrifice
No comments:
Post a Comment