DaBus

Transporter

There is no reason to believe that human life is correct only when it straightens out. Maybe at root we are coils of possibility in constant rotation. - T. Moore

You'd think that this public transport would have been more creatively named Leilani, Hawaiian for 'heavenly flowers' or 'royal child.' Or Wicked Wahini, for a playfully mischievous woman; or even Kanaka, a term of ethnic pride among native Hawaiians.

But, no. Its managers have chosen to call it simply TheBus or, as locals say, DaBus.

At least, its literalness nixes any confusion as to its intent - to provide daily ridership service to people in Oahu on 110-some routes. These motor vehicles are bicycle-rack equipped, most of them low-floor for accessibility. A kneeling bus, I amusingly note the written description on its side.

That morning, I was all set on what for me was a requisite to daily living. Shopping, I whispered to myself with a grin. I walked to the closest stop, just two buildings to the right of the condo and waved DaBus Number 19. Please hold on. I obeyed without hesitation or question as I got on board. The bus is departing. The sonorous recorded-summons was soothing. 

Call it the sun, the wind, the smell of the sea - it made for a pleasant morning. Sunshine was streaming from the window. The sky was like a huge inverted bowl of purest blue. 

I looked out the window and absently watched the passing scenery. Along the right side of Kalakaua Avenue, I caught small sightings of Waikiki beach, its waters washing through sand. The fragrant whiff of blooming plumerias mixed with that of salt, the smell of a city whose people live life outdoors.

To the left, DaBus passed a wedding party gathered in front of a water fountain. Newlyweds, I said, dividing a glance between the bride and the groom, both of them smiling back, showing plenty of teeth. They were posing for a keepsake photo. 

It went around the narrow end of Kapiolani Park, veering left away from Diamond Head, and circled around to Kuhio Avenue. On an outlying  grassy area, I saw a handful of elderly folks executing graceful tai chi movements and school children kicking a soccer ball. An elderly wahine had a handful of bread crumbs that she tossed a few at a time. Hele mai. Come here. She was enticing the koloa ducks with a toothy smile. They eyed her suspiciously at first, but then arrowed in from all directions.

Reaching the Starbucks corner, we turned away from the waters toward the city. Stop requested. DaBus wobbled to a stop. A swarm of tourists got off by the Marukame Udon cafeteria on Kuhio Avenue. Waiting to get on board were some students from the community college. DaBus was crowded. Please hold on. The bus is departing. Again came the summons from a soft, fluttering voice.

I watched the land flow by in. When the light was just right, the window became a bottomless mirror reflecting both myself and the land in odd unity. You can't miss the smallest nuances. The slight sound of a nene bird honked adorably, Ah-ahrk! in two notes, over and over. The vehicle halted with a lurch at my Ala Moana Center stop. I hurriedly walked toward the shopping mecca just a short block across. After two full hours filling my shopping cart with great enthusiasm and a guilty conscience, I headed back and caught the same route on the other side of the mall. 

Comfortably snug on an elevated seat close to the exit doors, I gave a sidelong glance at familiar sights. It was a re-run of the landmarks in the early morning, but in reverse. DaBus was going back where it started. I mused, with a knowing smile, So, life is not always straightforward. Perhaps it's a summons to live it in widening circles - moving forward, then coming round again.

Stop requested, a silky voice said through the speaker after I tugged on the pull-cord.

Funny how routine could be made suddenly interesting in the space of a few hours in a day.