eighteen is three sixes, man.

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last seen: dodging brats

7 december 1996 10:52 p.m.

You know it's going to be a strange day when you head out to take a walk on the beach and find a thick river of stampeding children in your way. Tomorrow's the Honolulu Marathon, which is only significant to me because it means I won't be able to get out of Waikiki most of the day. But I guess in the spirit of the season, they held a "mini" marathon -- in more ways than one. I followed the cones, police motorcycles and clapping tourists up to the Wall, where Dan Cooke -- Hawaii's favorite goofy weatherman turned NBC news anchor -- was telling a hoard of munchkins to stop shoving eachother. The "Waikiki Mile" was on, which -- as Dan said a few hundred times -- involved three thousand kids. They closed Kalakaua for the race. I stood and watched three age groups of kids, all neatly numbered, take off all chattery and smiling and come back clutching their stomachs and screaming for their mommies. It was a "fun run," but some of the little brats were taking it pretty seriously -- a couple of 'em looked like they were out for blood. The strategies shouted by overeager parents from the sidewalks reminded me why I quit soccer when I was a kid before I even played a game. Thankfully, I didn't inherit my dad's "competitive sports" gene. Still, I cheered with everyone else as the kids came back. One finished the mile in just under seven minutes, which I think is pretty good if you're four feet tall. The absolute last kid in each group, usually walking in the middle of a huge motorcycle cop escort, always got the most applause. I vowed to myself that I'd spend tonight reading up for my Philosophy paper (ten pages, due Wednesday). I'm within a dropped pencil of falling to a "C" in that class, so clearly, decisive action was needed. So, here I am enjoying another night of microwave popcorn in front of the tube. Flipping around, I came across "Real Genius" -- one of my all-time favorite movies (and not because of Val Kilmer). After watching for a while, though, I'd realized all the fun'd been taken out of it. While all movies on TV are "edited for content," they were showing "Real Genius" on the Disney Channel, meaning an extra-heavy hand with the bleep button. I cringed, in horror, at what was done with one of the flick's best lines: "Can you hammer a six inch spike through a board with your pinky?" His pinky? (oZnote: I was once compared in temprament to Jordan, the hyperactive genius. Which should give you some idea of the ditz I was in my youth.) Fortunately, I found the "Rocky Horror Picture Show" on Comedy Central. Still edited, sure, but I needed the practice ("Asshole!"). They show it every year at Hemenway, but I think I missed it this semester. I've said it before, but I don't mind saying it again. I'm a television junkie. Can anyone really blame me, though? I'm a media-fed child of the early eighties -- a thirteen-inch RCA was my favorite babysitter. At least I take a critical eye to it all. What I watch may be bad (as I type, I await the modern wonder that is Xena), but at least I'm fully aware of that fact. Fans of "The Real World," on the other hand... And lately, even commercials alone are worth a few musings. Like, how well do videos of high-speed chases and crashes sell? Or, what kind of person would carry a teeth whitener (i.e. bleach breath spray)? Or, what deviant uses there are for that "Tickle-Me Elmo." Or, how bored did someone have to be to come up with the RolyKit? Okay, I almost bought a RolyKit. And to be honest, now I want one of those newfangled RowBike things. Imagine! Putting wheels on an aerobic row machine! Ratio of RAM needed to run the Space Shuttle's onboard computers to that needed to run WordPerfect for Windows 95: 1 to 8 (From Harper's Magazine, December 1996.) It's been almost unbearably cold these days. I'm starting to wear my ugly sweaters, and it's getting nearly impossible to drag myself out of bed. I know I really have no right to complain though. While I whine about our chilly, seventy-five degree weather, all the people on the mailing lists I'm on are comparing "snowed in" stories. That's one of the quirkiest things about living in Hawai`i. I grew up singing along with "Frosty the Snowman," and endured an unnatural number of "It's a Wonderful Life" viewings, and I've always had a funny feeling that I'm missing something in the textbook Christmas experience. I mean, around here, a "white Christmas" could just as easily be an Aryan festival than a weather phenomenon. (I've never seen snow. I experienced sleet during a trip to Baltimore, and that's about the closest I want to get.) Still, it's really cold. And windy -- trees are falling all over the island. One gust today blew all the pictures off my dresser, and now -- with the windows closed tight -- the howling is disconcerting.