I just spent seven relaxing days in the warm Hawaiian sunshine with three girlfriends. My week was full of book reading, sunbathing, ocean floating, island exploring and cocktail drinking. It also included tons of walking, a wee bit of shopping and a whole lot of people watching.
While it’s entertaining almost anywhere, people-watching seems more exciting on the active streets of a bustling area where human beings command attention for the way they look or the things they do. And in a busy spot like Waikiki, with tourists from all over the world and several conventions in high gear, we had a lot to look at.
We saw at least a dozen brides, tons of sailors in uniform, body building competitors, cross dressers, street performers, tourists wearing surgical masks and countless folks carrying around extendable handheld phone sticks to take better selfies.
People-watching on the beach was even more interesting with the vast array of bodies, tattoos and bathing suits to discreetly observe behind our dark sunglasses.
But was anyone ever watching us?
Well, I know for sure that some of them were on our last full day when we ventured up island to Sandy Beach Park, a popular spot for experienced surfers who know how to handle the enormous waves and dangerous shore break.
After several hours of lying on the beach watching the talented locals surf and the frolicking tourists get tossed around by the sea, I went to the restroom. When I returned to the spot where one of my girlfriends and I had been basking in the sun she was still lying on her back sleeping. I was just about to settle down beside her when I saw the biggest wave I’d ever seen in my life coming straight for us.
“Holy crap!” I shrieked—although I’m almost certain the phrase I used consisted of a different second word than that. Jen immediately opened her eyes, saw the wave approaching and pounced upright. Panicked, we grabbed our iPhones, purses and towels and started running away from the water. As the enormous wave caught our legs, my towel was snatched back by the ocean.
When I went to dig it out of the wet sand my friend noticed that her right nipple had popped out of her bikini and there was a gaggle of gawkers who clearly didn’t mind. Mortified, she yanked on her top to cover it back up, but pulled the fabric so hard that her left one also made an appearance.
The sunbathing onlookers were all laughing, and so was I. The entire incident felt hysterical as it was happening, but since Jen’s such a prude and never one to seek attention about her body, it became increasingly funnier to me as the day progressed.
It almost felt like it was payback for all the free entertainment we’d received people-watching on our trip.
Jen would have much preferred that I pay the price rather than her, but I’m sure she’s grateful it all happened too fast for anyone to grab their phones and start taking video, because hilarity like that could have gone viral. It’s too bad that it didn’t.
Sorry, Jennifer. Anything for a laugh.
Lori Welbourne is a syndicated columnist. She can be contacted at LoriWelbourne.com.
