Normally my articles for Gridskipper have to be about Washington, DC, as correspondents are assigned to cover their home city. But I guess because we’re here for 45 days, I qualify as a kamaaina (Hawaiian for a non-native who has lived in the islands for a long time), and my editor was cool enough to let me write a few posts about Hawaii.

My first one was posted today:

Drink with Locals at the Pro Bowl

(Now, apparently there are sentiments circulating on the Internets that we do a lot of drinking; that’s not the case. We just like to drink, and sometimes it’s my job to do so, so we write about it a lot.)

Later this week I’ll be reporting on the NFL Pro Bowl for Deadspin. I’ll have a post Friday that covers the pre-game activities. And Monday’s article will cover the game and Saturday night’s Pro Bowl All-Star Block Party.

Right now I’m off to downtown Honolulu to work and watch the Pro Bowl Week Kick-off Rally.

Sunday we were in a brew pub next to our hotel to watch the Super Bowl. We got there early to get a great spot in front of the TV. A couple sat next to us, the man was wearing a Sox hat. Figuring I’m going to be next to these folks for four hours and that they’re friendlies, I asked them where they’re from.

He responded: “Reading, Mass. You?”

Usually I say I’m from the DC area. If the other person is from Massachusetts, I’ll say just outside of Boston. I don’t have a canned answer for when the other person is from my hometown.

Me: “Same here. Pine Ridge Circle.”

His wife said they lived on a street I hadn’t heard of; no surprise, there’s been a lot of construction in Reading of late, and she said that it’s part of a new development.

Me: “I actually live in DC now; but I grew up in Reading.”

They smiled. “Did you go to school in Reading?” he asked.

Me: “Yep, RMHS class of 94. Parker Middle School and Joshua Eaton too.”

Woman: “I was your math teacher. I’m Diane Portman.”

I felt like the fool that I am for not having recognized her, she looks the same (and I didn’t write that last sentence just because we gave them the URL for this blog). I blame the context: I hadn’t seen her in about 15 years, and I don’t recall ever having seen her outside of a classroom. Certainly not at a brew pub in Waikiki.

Of course, I called Dan immediately as he’d had her for a teacher as well. While outside on the phone, I realized how bizarre it was for my wife and middle school math teacher and her husband, Stan, to be drinking with my wife

Anyway, for the next five hours Margaret and I sat–and drank–with the Portmans. We had a fabulous time talking about their travels and ours. Afterwards they came up to our hotel room for some more wine. We’re heading to their place for dinner next week.

And that’s all I have to say about the events of Sunday.

We were hoping to update this blog more often, but there’s not a lot going on during the week that’s worth writing about. We wake around 7 a.m. Shortly thereafter Margaret leaves for work, and I hit the elliptical machine, partake in the complimentary breakfast, and then plop myself down at the desk in our suite and begin working too.

Margaret usually returns around 6 p.m. at which time we head to the lanai for her complimentary Cabernet and my complimentary Blue Hawaii. It’s at this juncture that our days start to have some variety: sometimes I only have one Blue Hawaii, other evenings I have three. Three’s the limit though; four Blue Hawaiis = blue Zachy.

Last Saturday we had a nice lazy day. For the second straight week we tried to watch outrigger races and for the second straight week we went on the wrong day. But at least we knew where to go for them on Sunday. So instead we ate overlooking the ocean at the Shore Bird before returning to our room for a nap. Later we went to a cookout at a house the Fish and Wildlife Service owns.

There I met a woman who spends six months each year living on the furthest outlying Hawaiian island where she and six other people count birds on behalf of the state. She’s been working in this job for years; up until recently she didn’t bother to take days off because there was nothing to do but drink. This year though she started taking off Sundays, which she spends reading.

Sunday was more eventful. Margaret, her colleague Wendy, and I started off by, yes, watching the outrigger races.

The Ala Wai Challenge also featured natives dancing for mostly non-natives.

Afterwards we headed to the westward side of the island. Strangely no road goes all the way along the island.

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So last weekend when we took our first drive we couldn’t complete the circuit, but had to drive home through the middle of the island.

Our first stop was for the best meal we’ve had in Oahu: Poke Stop. Poke is typically raw fish that’s been marinated. And it’s fantastic. I had lunch. Finished. And then had a second lunch. Poke Stop is in a strip mall, surrounded by a Sizzler and Popeyes. But the chef is world-class and the food tastes it. We’ll be back.

Wendy had been to the western side of the island before, and as we headed to the shore she described how destitute it was. Predictably, the homeless were not Japanese tourists who’d gone astray on a sake bender. According to Lonely Planet, many of them are natives of Oahu whose ancestors were displaced and fled to that shore when Kamehameha invaded the island when unifying Hawaii in 1795.

There were probably several hundred people living on the beach, some in store-bought tents, while others constructed their homes as birds assemble their nests, piecing them together from whatever materials were available.

We continued until the road ended at Kaena Point State Park. Framed by mountains jutting out on both sides, we sat on a beach of volcanic rock and watched the waves crash in front of us.

I wandered around to take some pictures. When I returned to the car, Margaret was gone. In her place was her evil twin.

Margaret’s evil twin decided that we then needed to find the end of a rainbow. The result was better than the last time I chased a rainbow and ended up at the Blue Oyster Bar (Dah da da da da daaaah, dah da da da da daaaah da-dah).

When we returned to Waikiki, Margaret, Wendy, and I went to the Hilton Hawaiian Village for gelato. The compound bills itself as an all-inclusive resort; when Margaret was looking for hotels, the operator there said that Margaret’s husband would love it, “He’d never have to leave the hotel!”

As I was walking from the Hilton Hawaiian Village to our hotel I saw a Hilton employee using Fantastik to scrub the dirt from an outside wall. I was about 20 miles from the tents.

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Blue = ocean

Ok, we just returned to Pane & Vino, which I described in our last post. We got it half wrong and half right. Turns out one of the guys is married, so we were wrong on that front. The food, however, was still excellent. We switched it up and had the eggplant crostini and penne pesto, both of which were phenomenal (Margaret gave it the the best rating possible: “Tastes like Paul’s“).

And not only did they remember us from last week, but they also recollected what wine we’d ordered. The grappa came out again this time too, once we mentioned that we were newlyweds. Tonight it went down a lot smoother, probably because we had an inkling of what was coming.

Anyway, it’s 10:46 p.m. here and we’re bringing a bottle of wine to the hot tub. Life could be worse.