Sunday, November 13, 2011
Friday night saw a flurry of motorcades as dignitaries made their way to the Sheraton for a big dinner. Every five minutes there were more sirens and lights crawling down the Ala Wai (the street that fronts the canal of the same name). I kept popping my head out the window and my binoculars got plenty of use (I normally keep them around because I have a stunning view of Waikiki, its high-rises, Molokai, the ocean, and, um, all my neighbors' windows...). It was all very exciting. So eventually, when things quieted down a bit, I went down for a walk to exercise out the moderate amount of adrenaline built up.
I walked down Ala Moana and surreptitiously checked out all the security. As a writer with copious imagination (self-reported), I can tell you with confidence that it wouldn't hold back any determined terrorists (but half-hearted protestors and bored teenagers, sure). Anyway. I looped around and stopped at the grocery store. I bought toilet paper and bananas. This purchase ups the comedic value of what is about to happen.
On the way back, I miss the light to cross over to my block. Then a police officer comes up and tells me and several other people that the road is now shut down. 10:35pm. I look down the road both ways. Its littered with police officers in reflective vests, some of whom ride bicycles. We ask why. The officer shrugs. Someone in the crowd surmises it's being shut down for Obama's motorcade.
We wait. I begin to notice that my bladder is full and my feet hurt. I pass most of the time tweeting about it, or being obnoxious about it on Facebook (and a part of me admonishes me for being TOO connected). And as with Halloween in Waikiki, or the two tsunamis we had, I chat easily with the people in the neighborhood (I don't talk easily with anyone normally let along strangers). Excitement breeds familiarity.
Five minutes later a scruffy guy on a bike (I kid you not, stereotypically a patchouli-slathered, Occupy-type protestor, the kind that right-wing bloggers salivate over, which is unfortunate because that's not who most of them are) starts needling the police officer and acts indignant about not being able to cross the street since NOTHING IS HAPPENING. The scruffy man voices what we all want to say, and in a way I'm grateful he did, but it pushes the bounds of what is acceptably civil. The police officer however, suddenly looks like he'd much rather be home, in bed, with the covers pulled up around his ears. Visibly terrified. Scruffy guy mills around for a few minutes then darts out. He's captured and slammed into a police car before he gets five feet from the curb. He yells out, then his cheek gets mashed into the window. He goes quiet, then gets processed (he gets released about fifteen minutes later, then stomps off into the 7-eleven on the corner, swearing a stream of creative and surly expletives directed at THE MAN).
10:55 or thereabouts, we get word that Air Force One has landed. Mindblowing. The police apparently blocked off the freeway all the way from Hickam Air Force Base, through the bulk of Honolulu, and into Waikiki a full twenty minutes before his airplane even arrived. I don't know what they were anticipating would happen, but I'd say that's a policy of questionable necessity.
Random police cars bolt down the road at random intervals. There was one regular car that made it through near us, but it got quickly processed. Finally, forty-five minutes after the road is shut down, we see the reflections of flashing lights beyond the hump over the Ala Wai. There is buzzing and murmuring and craning of necks. Then the motorcade comes into view. We get our camera phones out (when I say we, I mean me and the hundreds of other accumulated people now crowding the sidewalks). There's a police car, then a big SUV (which looks armored), then two limos with flags--and the president (or a really good decoy) is in the first one--I see his distinctive profile in the back seat backlit with reflected light from the crosswalk sign--he would not have been seen at all if it were daylight. I am in awe. I mean yes, I like Obama as a president and a person (even though I'm in the rather crotchety Occupyish camp), but the moment isn't so much about Obama as it is just about recognizing that I'm suddenly feet away from a sitting president. The man in charge. Someone who matters much more than me right now (I mean I'm holding toilet paper and bananas and he's got the nuclear football). I go slightly fangirl gooey with admiration, and have a faint twinge of self-loathing for being admiring of a symbol of power when I'm kind of against that sort of thing. What matters more is that it's a once-in-a-lifetime sort of bucketlist moment. As soon as it happens it's over.
The crowds applaud and cheer. I'm a little surprised (because we had to wait 45 minutes, under threat of arrest, so how is that for freedom), but then this is Hawaii's favorite son, and our Barry is very welcome here. I wave limply before trying to get a few more photos of the rest of the motorcade (one of the women in the crowd said, every time a van full of soldiers went past as part of the procession, "there's more G.I. Joes!" completely sincerely and cheerily). I have to note that an ambulance was part of the motorcade as well, which makes morbid sense.
When it was done, a few minutes later, we were cleared to cross (once we had the light--our police officer was being a stickler about it, even though up and down the road people were jaywalking freely). We crossed. We thanked the police officer. He smiled and looked visibly relieved. I think that's one of the things we forget when we're in crowds--that the police are not just uniforms, and certainly not always BAMFs who used to be schoolyard thugs. They are people too, and people very capable of being scared. It's always best to be as civil and polite as possible as long as no one is getting hurt or being abused (in other words, chillax and don't be a dick like scruffy bike man).
So I skip home. I'm sure I was beaming. It was an amazing thing to experience. I shared the elevator with neighbors who videoed the whole thing on their phones. They replayed the video on the trip up, beaming. I beamed. We laughed at the ridiculousness, and agreed that it was an awesome moment.




