Although I’d considered taking my rented 10 speed as far as the Bishop Museum, by the time I made it up to God’s House, way up on the Wa’ahila Ridge, my body was shot, and my ass had been tenderized by the sadistic seat.  I decided to just coast back down to Waikiki and look for my parents’ first apartment, where they’d been living when I was born, and the original site of Our Redeemer Lutheran. 

I backtracked through the University of Hawaii, then took University Avenue to Date Street and took a left.  Their apartment was a few blocks down and looked pretty rough.  There was a small homeless encampment in front of it as well as a few stray shopping carts in the parking lot.  I took a picture, but my lens had gotten sweaty and greasy, and the shot came out blurry.

From there, I continued down Date Street until I came to Rainbow Drive-Inn where I decided to stop and have a Hawaiian lunch.  That meant a chili plate, two scoops of rice, topped by chili, and a scoop of macaroni salad.  It took a little while for a table to open up.  Now that I was on the verge of returning the bike, I wanted it right next to me. 

After lunch, I rode along the Ala Wai Canal, in search of Lewers Street, where Our Redeemer Church had once been located.  In my mind, what I imagined was a skyscraper, tall enough for the crosswinds to go rushing through the top floors and make a ghostly wail in the stairwells.  Once I arrived, however, I discovered that the old building had been torn down, and all that remained was a squat, black one-story fortress, a heiau to capitalism.

Riding a little further, I came to the present-day location of Our Redeemer, in a retail space close to the Double Tree Hilton Hotel.  It was closed and I knew that the pastor, my only connection, had recently retired, so I just looked into the back window at some seats stacked against it, pretty typical of my trip so far, on the outside looking in.

That night I didn’t sleep well.  Jerry up above me was flopping from side to side like a fish in a pan.  He was a good guy, with good intentions, to show love to all people.  In return he’d gotten beat up and was now being shunned.  He should’ve paid closer attention to what happened to Christ and his disciples, but perhaps that’s what he was looking for, to go out as a martyr.

In the morning I saw another middle-aged misfit get up and make a move on the shower.  He’d done the same thing the day before, got up early and used all the hot water.  When I left the room, he was blocking the hallways, getting something out of his locker.  It was a twelve pack of PBR.  He was ready to get the party started.