A typical sign on Waikiki Beach. "Surf boards for rent". Boards, paddles, umbrellas, beach chairs, all for rent, lessons extra. The operator was doing brisk business.
But just around the corner was another sign, one that drew my attention:
"Stupid people shouldn't use smart phones."
Signs are intended to make a statement. For example, to convey information or instruction. Others are displays for advertising, typically offering some commodity or service. But this one was neither and implied the "advertiser" wished to convey a distinct message.
Seated, and with his back against a rock retaining wall along the busy strip on Kalakaua Avenue, Honolulu, a man was proudly displaying his sign, inviting -- no challenging -- people to stop and engage him in conversation.
I did just that. I stopped. But first, I need to describe him. Probably in his early to mid forties, his age difficult to assess because of age spots and psoriasis on his face. He was dressed in plain beige shorts, Hawaiian shirt and sandals. Nothing unusual about that, except that the shorts were dirty from constant wear and the shirt hadn't been washed in ages. His hair was disheveled and he hadn't shaved in a few days.
For all intent and purposes, he was a homeless man, as evidenced by the hat on the ground, inviting donations from passersby. He was one of the many homeless in the Waikiki area, claiming his own small piece of real estate from the former Hawaiian king, David Kalakaua, whose name adorned the street sign above his head.
I asked the man his name and surprisingly he willingly shared it: Mark. A common enough name. Mark seemed to be down on his luck, but at least he was inhabiting a portion of sidewalk that was neither cold nor inhospitable, judging from the coins in the hat.
I asked him about the cardboard sign and why he had penned it. Mark chuckled. "Well," he began, "I just like to watch people as they walk by; they make me laugh."
I smiled, encouraging him to continue.
"They cling to their cell phone, like they were holding a soother." He paused. "I see them stumble and trip, even banging into the lamp post," he explained, pointing to the one near him. "That's why I made my little sign."
It was my turn to grin. I didn't have my cell phone with me. I purposely had left it at home, deciding it wasn't worth bringing on my holiday. Okay, okay! Probably the real reason I didn't bring mine is because of the horrendous charges I'd be hit with from the American cell phone carriers. But I didn't tell Mark that.
Anyway, I asked him a few more questions. A few of his responses were hard to make out, either because of the constant traffic noise or because he had a slight speech impediment. Or maybe he just had too much to drink that day. Some he answered and some he didn't, like where he was actually from. (Many homeless people living in Hawaii weren't born on the islands.)
I asked him if he owned a smart phone. He grinned. "Not on your life."
As I walked away, I realized, that his life, such as it was, was, in some ways at least, carefree and that he didn't grip his phone like it was a precious commodity (like many of us do), because he didn't have one. Or rather, he chose not to have one.
Over the course of the next few days, I saw Mark a few times, always at the same location, talking to people as they walked by. Many chose to ignore him, but then the odd one, like me, will stop and actually talk to him.
I'm back in the frigid North, back on my home turf (frozen ground), while he's still there on Kalakaua Avenue, enjoying the warm gentle breezes and handouts from strangers. Oh well...