Written by a roving columnist for the Honolulu Advertiser who's been wearing Waikiki walking shorts to work for years, only to be afflicted with blue knees when the Age of Air Conditioning arrived, this is a view of the lighter side of life in our fiftieth state, so light it sometimes leaves you up in the air. Krauss assures us that all the familiar South Seas traditions live on in high-rise Hawaii: sophisticated residents go happily barefoot, though shoes are a status symbol on the way up; lackadaisical ""Hawaiian time"" persists amidst Pacific Standard; and there's enough missionary zeal left to put Gina the Italian Volcano out of her beer-hall business. There are homey asides and injunctions for the reader, and Krauss himself is in the thick of the action, documenting the all-time Hawaiian flat tire record, triggering a crusade against pay toilets at the airport, writing Charles de Gaulle to convince French postal authorities that Hawaii really is part of the USA, and surveying new breed young nomads on the beaches. He includes local lore, tips for tourists, island celebrities, new problems in paradise, and other wildly assorted inside information. (E.g., though lei observers may not realize it, that famous Hawaiian welcome often involves delicate foreign policy decisions... Does one drape the lei around Queen Elizabeth's neck?) For those attuned to his humor, it's a Honolulu lulu, but others may develop one big Diamond Head-ache.