The Faux Pas Press #9: The Shaka

THE FAUX PAS PRESS #9

A Weekly Thought

By JASON SCOTT CHAMBERS

28 SEPTEMBER 2009

The Shaka

This is a symbol used in the Hawaiian Islands that has found its way into popular culture, mostly printed under the title Hang Loose. It is also a water slide in the shape of a half-pipe skateboard ramp at Wet N’ Wild Amusement Park on the West side of Oahu. I have had the privilege of knowing both intimately, knowing them with all the stupidity and cultural faux pas of a snotty kid from North Dallas suburbia.

I’m not afraid to admit it. I throw the shaka at most people in Hawaii, most every native who looks like they might whoop the shit out of me. Survival is a key component in my life right now. So, I run around this island wearing a wife-beater and board shorts expecting at least a little credibility. I throw the shaka whenever I can – not only because I want to fit in and I am a hopeless fake with shifting morals but because it is down right useful.

“Have pity on my drunken friend. He’s not culturally sensitive as I am, sir.”

I normally receive passive disdain; maybe even a prayer that I and others like me will leave this island soon, leaving all that is still pure as I shut the door behind me. Most don’t seem to mind about the Wet N’ Wild though, which, I happen to know, is an import from my home town. As I have previously stated, Hawaii has loaned the shaka to this amusement park in the name of good commerce, and I am a paying customer.

(Well, I use the annual pass of a Blackfoot Indian friend of mine, a guy that I call the Wolf. He loans me his season pass because we have a striking resemblance. I give him a cornucopia full of sundries, pumpkins, and cranberry sauce in return. I also apologize for what my white ancestors did to his people. A chorus falls from the heavens, and we embrace.) As always, I am thankful, thankful all the time – no need to slaughter a perfectly good bird to prove it. I prefer using the shaka at random.

So, I drive to Wet N’ Wild on Saturday with my friend Kyle and a mortal enemy of mine that I call the Korean. (We’ve decided to look past our differences, historical and physical, for an afternoon of fun after a night drowning these differences in club music and shots.) This is the second weekend in a row that we’ve hung out, but I swear to you that he is my mortal enemy. Also, you might assume that we have more important career or familial obligations to attend to and you would be right. My wife and I are expecting a daughter next month. What better way to prepare for the arrival of a new-born than with a test drive of the local water park? What’s that? I’m a grown-ass man, you say? You might just be a boring-ass person, I reply? The rides are a lot of fun, the weather is great outside, and a day here reminds me of joyous summers from my childhood – peeing in the wave pool, heckling lifeguards, and getting kicked off rides. Not much has changed in my life.

So, we’re waiting in line for The Shaka, the half-pipe taken by a two-man tube. Now, despite our various differences and enduring hatred for each other, the Korean and I decide to ride together. There are two kids in front of us.

“Are you scared of The Shaka?” I ask one of them.

“Me? No, I’m not scared, but I know that he is.” He is pointing to his timid, chubby friend named Zach.

“No, I’m not,” he spouts.

“I am,” I say, “the last time I rode The Shaka, I not only urinated but I shat myself, leaving a smear of good cheer for the next rider.”

Both kids are speechless. The Korean nods his head as usual without commenting. (Perhaps, he has so many people commenting on his life that he never has a chance to say what he must.) He affirms my claim.

The moment of truth arrives. Young Zach has now decided that he climbed to the top of the ride only to make his way down the stairs again. His friend and my enemy shake their heads in disgust. They decide to go without him as I’ve decided to go and convince Zach otherwise.

The victorious ending is that Zach decides to engage and enjoy his present, The Shaka, even though he is scared, intimidated, and unsure. Young Zach has taught me something. You either choose to engage and enjoy your present or you will be scared for the rest of your life, move into the moment you’ve chosen or drown yourself in the past until you meet your death. I am impressed to say this week, offer a thought that asks you to choose your happiness. Engage the ride you’ve chosen at the water park and hit it, even if it means admitting your angst or squirting in your pants.

I like thinking of Victor Frankyl, writer and holocaust survivor, who describes his discovery of happiness in literal hell. If he can engage his present surroundings and choose happiness living in a fucking concentration camp then, surely, you can do the same – in Orange County, or Dallas, or West Phoenix, or Oahu, or even in the scariest moments of your life. Happiness is not only your right, it is your responsibility.

Green Lights and Galactic Pulsars of Good,

Jason Scott Chambers

www.fauxpaspress.com

P.S.

Here is an open invitation to enjoy the 21st Birthday of the amazing talent, Tyler Boright, both on Tuesday, September 29th at The Yard House in Waikiki at 7:00pm and this weekend in Chinatown for Honolulu’s First Friday. See you there.