Island WiFi

September 5, 2006

Originally posted to ydnar.vox.com in September 2006.

Found WiFi at a coffee place in Kailua. After trying a half-dozen seats in the place, one router restart and commiserating with a fellow also lacking internet, I was able to connect. Currently skirting Alamo's 30 minute grace period, 10 miles and one fillup away from the airport.

Getting to see a doctor on Saturday was a giant hassle. Once I was there, it was like I had my own personal medical staff.

peopletagging (tm)

I tried 4 methods of finding out where the local hospital/ER was:

Asking surfer dude watching me grimace and clean out the wound while bleeding all over the sand. He suggested going to Waimea, the opposite direction of where I eventually wanted to be (my bed).
Looking for blue H for hospital signs on the highway. Failed.
Calling 411 (information). These guys took the cake. Not only could they not help me, "Sir, what is the name of the hospital you're trying to find?" "Um, no. I'm on vacation and I'm bleeding all over the place. If I knew the name of the hospital, do you think I'd call you?" I was eventually transferred to a supervisor, where it was Same Story, Different Dude. Cingular/whatever, your 411 service is fucking utterly useless. Die.
Stoned gas station attendant girl who gave me vague directions (I'm sensing a theme here, this wasn't the first set of hand-wavey directions I recieved on this trip) and named a nonexistent town and grubbed the map I produced.

I set off and 10 minutes later I passed an ambulance screaming the other way, so I figured it was close. Eventually, Stoned Girl's directions panned out, and I saw a blue H sign for Hospital: 4 miles. I turned, followed signs for the ER and limped up into...

A locked door. I poked around at a couple other doors, eventually going into what appeared to be an administrative office. I guess I looked lost, because the clerk who saw me kicked into maternal mode real fast. I told her my little foot-stabbing anecdote, and she led me through the locked door.

A male nurse immediately took me over and did the temp/blood pressure drill, medication allergies, etc. I was in shock--no waiting! I'm accustomed to having to wait at least 1-2 hours before getting anyone, much less a doctor's attention.

He said I might need stitches, then we started talking about golf and mountain biking. Where the admin went into Maternal mode, this guy went straight into Buddy mode. He was like the friend everyone has who's just a regular guy, up for anything, and just plain nice. Doctor Okamura was similarly awesome. Not similar as in he was completely different--all business but friendly at the same time. He gave me a choice of stitches or no stitches in a roundabout way. He actually got me to decide based on criterea other than how much pain and time the stitches were going to take (I elected for stitches).

Nurse runs off to get iodine solution and Doc comes back with a big hypo with novicaine and stabs my foot a few times to numb it down. At some point he decides that his original assessment was worse than reality. Despite the meaty slice it looked, it wasn't actually that deep. So no stitches.

Admin comes back and plops down in a chair next to the bed I'm on and interviews me for the insurance/contact information. She actually fills out the whole fucking form, asking me every question. I'm computing the total administrative cost of this in the back of my head at the same time I'm just plain happy to not have to fill out the forms.

Doc, Nurse and Admin make another pass each, and I'm sent home with a stack of bandages, antibiotics, a prescription for more, and advice to stay out of the water for a day or two.

Best hospital visit ever.

Flight Home

September 5, 2006

Originally posted to ydnar.vox.com in September 2006.

In the words of Whitaker, I had a ridonculous amount of leg room. After I made it back to the airport with 30 s

If I was a Superstitious Person...

September 4, 2006

Originally posted to ydnar.vox.com in September 2006.

gash

...I'd say the gash on my foot was because I violated a half-dozen kapu by taking photos and committing other generally annoying tourist shit on the mountain summit. But I'm not, so your angry god can stuff it. However, being an engineer subject to Murphy's Law I ended up in the ER for a particularly messy gash in my foot after approximately 0.01 minutes in the water.

clutch of life

At some point during breakfast yesterday, my intentions were steered away from visiting a beach on the north side of the island toward a visit to a lake on top of Mauna Kea. It was an hour and a half drive on what the guidebook termed the worst road in the state and a 30 minute hike at 13000 feet. Barren, desolate landscape devoid of life, shelter, UV protection, gas and guardrails--my kind of day.

Idlewild

I finished breakfast (coffee, eggs, bacon, potatoes, an english muffin & Portuguese sausage [sic]) and set off in search of music for the drive ahead. I bought a couple CDs and a historical novel at Borders and set off for the volcano. Murphy paid me an early visit and the Jeep ate my CD. Button mashing and yelling were insufficient to coax it from the Jeep's hold, so I drove back to the airport to see if they could do something about it. Driving around without music wasn't an option. The folks at Alamo attempted, ultimately futilely to do same and ended up just giving me a new rental car, this time a shorter (read: less annoying top to stow) Jeep and promising their mechanic would be able to retrieve CD sometime tomorrow morning.

worst. road. ever.

A half hour later I was driving on Saddle Road, the lonely highway built in 1942 by the Army to connect the east & west coasts of Hawaii. By "built" and "1942" I mean specifically it was spewed out in a drunken, meandering chunk in about 5 minutes and then immediately demolished by driving tanks on it. The road consists of 1 somewhat smooth paved lane and one pockmarked, potholed, trashed gravel/asphalt lane.

cinder cones

The problem is the one good lane is evenly split between the east and westbound lanes of traffic. Which means that unless your car is straddling the center line, you have to drive with one half of the wheels on the murky grit, punishing just one side of the car's suspension. If you drive out-and-back there's at least a little symmetry. At the crest the wind blows about a million miles per hour, so between the thwapping percussion of the tires and the rear seatbelts, bits from the top and other miscellany, I couldn't hear the stereo anyway.

moonscape

As I progressed further, the landscape turned from coastal plains to rolling hills and pasture. The grass finally gave way to a moon-like field of solidified lava flow, jet-black and sharp. At the 29 mile marker, I turned off at the Mauna Kea access road and headed up the mountain. At 6000 feet, the temperature was noticably colder than at the coast and fog enveloped the car. I stopped at the visitor's center at 9000 feet, which had approximately half of the wall next to the door covered with huge signs detailing the dangers of altitude sickness. At the summit, the air pressure is 40% of sea level and the oxygen level is quite low. I promised myself I'd drive back down immediately if my lips turned blue.

Will continue later...need breakfast.