A monologue. Standing roadside, addressing the audience directly. On what it takes to lose a car in Hawaii — and find something else entirely.
HITCHHIKER
(standing roadside, addressing the audience directly)
I used to love driving down this road.
Windows down. Wind in my hair. Music pumping.
Beautiful views that make your jaw drop.
You know what isn't fun?
Not having a car.
Especially here in Hawaii,
where fifteen minutes suddenly turns into an hour walking both ways —
and where it can start raining at any given moment.
I used to see hitchhikers sprinkled along this road.
Men. Women. Dogs.
All kinds of creatures asking for a ride.
Asking for someone to see them —
and I never did.
Sometimes I hoped there wouldn't be any of them out,
so I wouldn't feel guilty for not stopping.
You're probably thinking I'm a bad person, right?
How many of you have driven past someone and not stopped, too?
You're running late.
You're going too fast.
You couldn't care less.
I'm not a bad person.
I was just selfish.
But it only took one split second for all of that to change.
(beat)
I was driving on a rainy day.
I glanced down at my phone.
A wild pig darted out onto the road.
I swerved.
Rolled.
Boom.
One moment you're a driver —
and the next,
you're just another hitchhiker lining the roads.
The pig lived to see another day.
So did I.
But that was the end of my car.
You ever tried buying a car in Hawaii?
It's not fun —
and way more expensive than the mainland.
I'm so grateful now whenever someone stops for me.
Don't get me wrong,
it comes at a price.
You get to hear people's life stories...
or get lectured on their political views.
Or worse —
complete silence.
Still,
it's a fair price to pay for a ride.
If I could go back to when I had my car,
I'd stop for every single person I see.
Because we're meant to help each other, no?
And for all the connectivity we seem to have nowadays,
we all seem disconnected.
(a beat, softer)
Don't look at me that way.
I don't need your pity.
I just need a ride.
(listens)
I hear another car coming.
(turns to go)
Sorry, I have to go.
That could be my ride home —
and you can't be too picky when you're hitchhiking.
— A.T.D.