It was looking like a really bad day. I had a meeting in town with the Howard Hughes Corp., but my car’s back end was shimmying like a twerking Miley Cyrus.
The car is modified so I can drive from my power wheelchair, and if the problem was in the conversion I’d have to ka-thunk from Kailua to Salt Lake for repairs.
Meantime, it would be bad form to skip the meeting after my recent gibes at Hughes’ Kakaako development plans.
It was too late to call the Handi-Van and my only remaining option, the bus, ignited an anxiety attack.
What if I’m late? What if the bus gets stuck in traffic and I need to use the bathroom? What if my wheelchair breaks and I’m stranded 20 miles from home?
Then came an even bigger concern: What a wimp I’d become with advancing age!
In my younger days, I’d have figured out the most expeditious way to address the problem and just handled it.
I decided to reclaim the old coping powers, starting with finding out if the car problem might be something simple and not the catastrophe I feared.
I dropped the car at Goodyear in Kailua, then waited at the bench right outside for the 57 bus, which would deliver me to Hughes’ Ward offices in 35 minutes — theoretically.
Things didn’t go as planned. The bus was late, traffic was slowed by roadwork and an unexpected diversion of the bus got me dropped off at Ala Moana Center instead of Ward.
No stress. I had allowed extra time and could still scoot my wheelchair to Ward in time for the meeting, which turned out more pleasant than I expected.
Instead of a hard sell, Hughes Senior VP David Striph gave me a tour of his public information center at the old IBM Building, which has photos, films and interactive exhibits of Kakaako’s past and Hughes’ view of its future.
Whichever side of the development divide you’re on, an hour of playing with the computerized models leaves you better informed.
I hopped back on the 57 bus right around the corner and was back in Kailua in 40 minutes, ahead of the evening rush, after a relaxing ride with a helpful driver and friendly seatmates.
The best news was that my car trouble was simply a bubble in a tire; I had it replaced and drove home.
All in all, a good day.
It got me thinking more broadly about how our nation and community have come to handle problems.
Perhaps we’d do well to reduce the drama, take a less apocalyptic view of the challenges we face and give ourselves a little space to work them out.
Reach David Shapiro at volcanicash@gmail.com or blog.volcanicash.net.
