Day of Living Dangerously

Entry to Habitat Restore in Hanapepe with hanging bottles of sanitizer. 

Governor David Ige has announced a 14-day quarantine of anyone coming to the islands, residents and visitors. Residents stay home except for medical issues. Tourists stay in hotels. Indicating how serious this is, he said violators would be fined a maximum $5,000 or thrown in jail for a year.

Yesterday Barbara and I toured to the other side of our small island paradise in our rental compact, a dinged-up red Ford Fiesta with a black hatchback. It's seen better days, but price is right.

"We cannot be taken for tourists in this baby," I told her.

"Then why is the local in the dinged-up pickup tailgating us? she said.

"I guess we're just brahs, you know, Ohana on the roads."

Just as he was about to bump us from behind, his headlights went bright.

He's got someplace to go, I thought. I swiftly flipped the turn signal and steered our little buggy onto the shoulder where all the famous red dirt is. Step on this dirt and your slippahs (Hawaiian for flip-flops), are dyed a deep orange for life. Not to mention your toes.

No shaka, no toot of the horn, he sped by on his own private mission. I was just happy we didn't touch red, cause I'm tryin to keep a clean slate, if you know what I mean.

We had a couple of foot stools made of cool woven basket material, a tight weave, that were clogging our condo with more stuff. Nice cushions fashioned with colorful floral prints included. Vintage unknown, but not too recent. Very Hawaiian, we thought.

"Before we get rid of them," I said, "check online to see if they're valuable."

"I'd hate to see them show up on Antique Road Show," said Barbara, finishing my thought. "And learn that they're worth thousands of dollars."

We both laughed one of those laughs that carries a tinge of truth.

No dice. We were good to go.

At the Habitat Restore in Hannapepe, the island warehouse where you will find anything you might dream of -- from glassware to goggles to gowns to gewgaws to grass mats to giant fishing poles and more -- we presented our valuable foot stools to the nice lady receiver of stuff.

Her eyes looked over the stools as if they were evidence of a recent crime. Her hands ran across the woven borders and over the neatly stapled fabric underneath. In the silence of that moment you could almost hear the sound of a fishing line being cast by a local angler at Salt Pond, some quarter-mile away.

"Hummm... I don't know," she hemmed.

Barbara and I stood speechless.

The lady never smiled, perhaps a sign of stress during our time of unknown consequences and irregularities.

Finally, she broke the standoff: "Okay."

Before heading back, we cruised through the tiny, former plantation town of Hanapepe with its picturesque freshly refurbished historic buildings.  It looked like a ghost town even though many stores had "open" signs in their windows. Few shoppers around.

With the island shutting down, people are not buying. The lady at Restore likely gave us a break by accepting more inventory than she needs right now. I wanted to tell her, "We'll be back to buy stuff when this thing is over."

I promise.