HVAC in Honolulu is salt on a south-shore condenser or humidity in a wetter valley, inside a house that used to cool on the trades. Someone blocked that path. The machine is now doing a job the breeze did, and the coils are rusting while they do it. Single-wall houses and framed houses both get this wrong. Say whether the air is dead, wet, or both, and say how close the equipment sits to the spray.
Do not open with a heating story. If it is dead, say dead. If it runs and the towels never dry, say that. Condensate in this air clogs, shuts the system off, and drips where there is no basement to catch it. Filters cake with salt and dust. A cabinet blooming rust on the south side is not cosmetic. A valley unit may look cleaner and still fail because the rooms never dry out.
Window units in older Honolulu walls drip into sills and into boards. Ducts over a low-slope roof cook and sweat. An ohana behind the main house may be on a second condenser, on an extension of the first, or on nothing but a propped door. Say which. A noisy fan and a warm supply are different from a unit that will not start. Lead with the behavior, not a guess at the part.
Corrosion and the electrical service decide whether a replacement is straightforward. Change the indoor and outdoor pieces as a match if both are due. If every window in the house stays shut, say so, because the blocked breeze is part of why the machine never catches up. If you still want the trades on ordinary days, say that too. A humming condenser that moves no air, or a disconnect crusted with salt, is the picture to describe.
Say the part of Honolulu, dead or merely damp, and whether salt is sitting on the equipment. Mention an ohana that never got its own cooling. The next still, humid afternoon will not be kinder. Call the number on this page.