Four hundred and fifty miles away from Maui, the first plane ever to attempt to fly from the continental United States to Hawai‘i runs out of fuel. Commander John Rodgers—the second U.S. Navy pilot to earn his wings—brings the PN-9 down on the open ocean.
Dino Pertzoff, rockstar president of World Wide Window Cleaning, dangles over the sides of 30-plus-story buildings in central Honolulu. We join him.
Like the clouds that move over the Pali peaks, the water that rushes down Likeke Falls, or the gusty wind that blows over the lookout, Hawaiʻi Route 61 is a conduit of perpetual motion, of coming and going. In all of its incarnations, it has been a necessity of commerce and community, and a witness of change.
“Sir,” the officer warns. “You can either get these shorts on, or you can go to jail butt naked.”
“This is an outrage!” he yells. “This is going to be the front page of the paper tomorrow!”
“Trust me, this will not make the news,” one cop says. The other glances at me.