Tourism Talk
As eerie silence descends on Hawai'i tourism, leaders must learn to adapt

By Michele Kayal
Advertiser Staff Writer

One week ago today, while most of Hawai'i slept, life as we know it was suddenly and violently altered. And though it happened on the Mainland, it has come home to Hawai'i perhaps even faster than we might have expected.

Yesterday in post-terrorism Hawai'i:

• Aloha Airlines trimmed its interisland flights by 26 percent, and said employee cutbacks will follow.
• Parking was plentiful in Waikiki on the street at lunchtime.
• Lewers Street was empty except for four trucks (Frito Lay, Dollar Rent-a-Car, two VIP Tours) and a large American flag suspended over the street.
• Cars cruised right into Hanauma Bay, which had only a quarter of the usual number of visitors.
• The Macaris from Salt Lake City recalled having to check their carry-on bags, even though other passengers didn't. They didn't mind being singled out, though they were never told why.
• More staff than visitors plied the public spaces of the Halekulani Hotel. At 12:30, House Without a Key had only a dozen tables taken and about as many people swimming off the beach.
• The parrot guy was completely unattended. Only the pigeons were following him.
• No one milled about the grounds of the Royal Hawai'ian Hotel, and a solitary Japanese bridal party sat dining on the terrace. Bob Elkins from Los Angeles laid on the beach, defiant. "I refuse to sit in my house in fear over this," he said.
• Robert Trombly, a salesman for Sav-On Tours, had sold only two tickets for Atlantis Submarines by noon, a $100 deal. Usually, he would have done $1,200 worth of business by that hour.
• The surf was better than after the shark sightings this month, but there were fewer people on the waves.
• "Oooo," said a parking garage attendant at the Royal Hawaiian Shopping Center when asked if it was slow. "Look out there — there's no one walking around!"
• Waikiki Trolley #11 sat empty before it departed. "All day, maybe two people, maybe four," said the Japanese staffer who guides tourists to the trolley.
• The only thing stopping cars on Kal?kaua Avenue was the red lights.
• The Hale Koa Hotel had barricades and uniformed personnel out front. A sign announced that the grounds were at "ThreatCon Charlie."
• Hilo Hattie was suffering a 20 percent decline in sales.
• Starwood Hotels on the Big Island were 30 percent full; 50 percent in Waikiki; 70 percent on Kaua'i.

Then there were the intangibles: the eerie, "whistling in the dark" quality to the smattering of people sunning themselves in Waikiki; a vague sense of embarrassment among some window shoppers — "You almost feel ashamed to be happy," said Salt Lake City's Bev Macari; stalwart attempts at optimism — "It's not so bad," a bellman at the Imperial Hotel said surveying the completely empty streetscape. "Today's our slow day."

The sights and events weren't shocking, because many tourism executives said the first two weeks after the double-tragedy in New York and Washington would be rough. But the greater issue is what happens now?

People are eager for a comparison, desperate for something from the past that will illuminate the future. But there is no model for what happened to the United States seven days ago.

This is not like Pearl Harbor. That was military to military. And much of the world was already at war.

This is not like Desert Storm. That war never touched American shores. And in that war, hijacking commercial airlines was only theoretical.

This war is a new war, and U.S. officials are trying to make clear that it will not be fought on battlefields, will not have a visible enemy, does not have clear demands from our foe, could look something like a global Vietnam, and could take a very long time.

It is a war that will challenge Hawai'i's leaders — not just in tourism, but in all parts of business and government — to be more creative than they have ever been, and to look for the pockets of opportunity in a sea of impossibilities.

The world is completely different, make no mistake. And Hawai'i will have to adapt quickly — as quickly and as aggressively as the world has been changing.