We were told to stand next to the wall beside the highway, hold our signs away from the road, and look each driver in the eye, while waving. Some of us responded to waves back with shakas. Only between traffic cycles did we talk to one another. I googled one woman on the line, having recognized her name. She'd fought against H3, advocated for Hawaiian culture, and clearly knew someone I admired at UHM. So, between cycles, I meandered down to talk to her.
I told her I was retired from UHM, and she said tenure needed to end; so many students tell her their professors are lazy; the legislature needs a direct line of communication. She'd worked for Ph.D. engineers and they were so arrogant. So many ph.d's are arrogant. She had never finished college; only did three years and never got back to it. But she'd had people with fancy degrees who worked for her. The students are customers, she said, and there needs to be accountability. (I said I didn't want to think of students as customers, because then I'd be trying to sell them something.) It's a business, she opined. I asked her to give my aloha to her friend, the one I admire for her political savvy.
A bus stopped in front of us. An older woman stepped out, walking away from us. One of the sign wavers lit up and said, "when she gets out of the bus, we know it's time to go home."
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