Irony has a way of sneaking up and exposing itself in some
of the strangest ways. My English
professor at Cypress College in Southern California first unveiled the nature
of irony to me one day when he pointed outside his classroom window, drawing our attention to a large field where cows innocently grazed. “Irony,” he explained as he pointed out the Burger King joint visible from the
other window, “is sometimes where we least expect
it.”
Some of my favorite examples of irony still have me sitting
here, cross-eyed and scratching my head.
For instance, when I lived on the Windward side of Oahu, I used to drive
by a shopping area that had an ominous chain-linked fence surrounding it. Attached to the fence was a single metal sign
that in bold red letters proclaimed, NO SIGNS ON FENCE! Out of fear of arrest or worse, having my face on Hawaii's Most Wanted, I have managed to resist the urge to post a
sign with an arrow pointing to it that says, EXCEPT THIS ONE!
Then there was the day I was riding on the Honolulu city bus on my way to the beach when I glanced up at the advertisement posted directly across from
me: BLIND? VISION IMPAIRED? CALL 722-2222. Perplexed, I sat there for the duration of
the ride, wondering how anyone blind or vision impaired would know that they could get help by simply calling that number. Years later, while shopping for a new kitchen
sponge, I spotted one with Braille strangely printed on the package—without the
dots raised—and thought, Hmmm, must be the same idiot who made the bus ad.
And how about the Hawaiian activist I saw on TV one
night? She was talking about how she
could not tolerate racism yet in the same breath, she blurted out how sick and
tired she was of all the haole people
(Caucasians), taking over Hawaii. Being hapa (half) haole myself, I felt offended as I thought about my haole father, risking his life during
World War II to protect this small, defenseless island chain—strategically
located in the middle of the Pacific Ocean—from the big bad bullies that
would love to use it as a stepping stone to devour their capitalistic, Land of
the Free, enemy.
I love the Land of Ironica, especially when I find myself living in it...like I am right now.
No comments:
Post a Comment