So the summer of '95 was a very interesting time in the life of your trusty narrator. This was the first time I had ever been on my own for any period of time. Even in Auburn or Atlanta, there were people I knew, a plan, a schedule of some sort. There was none of that this summer, it was just me on Oahu for 3-4 months; pre-cell phone, pre-internet.
After 3 days in Waikiki, in a strange little 'backpacker's special' hotel on Saratoga (which seems to still be there behind this new monstrosity) complete with geckos by the dozen I figured it was time to find a more permanent temporary home. Took a bus up to the UH campus to search the bulletin boards. A quick perusal at the student union and a pay-phone call later and I was in a cab up to St Louis Heights, to rent a room out in what I figured to be just another normal suburban type home overlooking Waikiki. Wow, I had to soon come up with a new definition of normal.
Here's the rundown on the Shangri-la: Mrs. H (Henderson) ran the place, she was a widow from Missouri in I guess her high 60's, and was pleased to know that I was a Southern boy. Figured I would be polite and "pay my rent" in her words. Her partner in crime was Bill Eleniki. Old Bill was born and raised in da islands, of Chinese and Portuguese (Portagee) heritage. Bill was all local, all the time. He lived in the back of the house, and was a resident boss, handyman, and he had a truck.
In this house lived Mrs H in one bedroom, her daughter in another, myself in the third. There was a little old Philipino maid that slept on a couch with an O2 tank and spoke no English. Her name was Mary and I gathered from one of her prescription bottles that she was a schizophrenic. Mrs H’s granddaughter would sometimes stay over at the house on another couch with her infant son. Thousands of geckos and cockroaches went uncountable in my census.
Now the back of the house; this was obviously an “add-on” of three bedrooms of questionable quality. There was a California boy in one, a coke-head surfer who hit the beach at 5am everyday but had apparently screwed his back up too much to work and was collecting a state check. Old Bill had another room in the back, and bathed the entire yard in a warming glow of B/W TV and volume set to “11” until he passed out each night. In the third bedroom, there were no less than 4 guys at a time from Micronesia coming and going. In total there were anywhere from 10-12 people at 1553 Alencastre Street in St Louis Heights (2 with jobs). Alas, the house is no more, you can see progress on it's replacement via Google street view.
But wow, did it have a view!
Tune in next time to meet my roomies.
