Flashback: It is after midnight but at the Las Vegas Airport the party is always just beginning; in our case it won�t start for twelve more minutes. In that space of time the three of us are able to purchase the prerequisite margaritas, assume tactical position for our extremely loud clothing to exhibit maximum effect, and prepare to welcome Stacy to Nevada with the all the necessary craziness only we can provide and only this airport will permit. This is still pre-9/11 so we�re able to station our small force right up against the gangway of the arriving jetliner.
Furious anticipation is slaked with sips of salty tequila juice (amazing how strong the margaritas are at McCarran � but then big winners and loosers stagger all around!) until our quarry is sighted! It happens so quickly only the slow motion of the panoramic video cameras could break it down properly but by the end I�m on my back with margarita sloshed across face, chest (and floor) with Stace covering the rest in a fierce wildcat hug that may relent only after interdiction from local security forces.
This has been, and will continue to be, the manner in which Stacy and I greet each other every time we meet�the more foreign the country the more exuberant the embrace.
Present: You know the kind of hotel I mean: in the Midwest it�d be considered a rat hole and on either coast only the totally down and out would even consider an affair there because it was cheap enough for an afternoon. But here on the Mexican boarder it represents one of the finer non-tourist-seeking establishments on the waterfront. Following Eric Goodman down the hall of this antique flophouse I was impressed by the clean carpets and walls � more, perhaps, than I�d expected from a place he�d decided to crash in for the previous several days as he awaited the arrival of the Faith in Ensenada. Hell, I�d half expected him to be sleeping on the wharf when we belatedly pulled into port�.Ah, but don�t forget to take into account that Stacy was in town, and she�d probably demand at least a functioning toilet�.
�This is it,� my old friend warned me as he came to a halt a few feet from the unpresuming closed door of one of the rooms.
I motioned him forward, lowering my hand to wave silence at waist level as I set my back against the stucco wall opposite the hinge-end of the door. Eric keyed himself in, draping the hall in a sunlight curtain that swept the air inches from my sequestered form. The voice I�d strained my ears for swept the space around my conspiratorial amigo, finding not the presence it willed was with him. The timber of the vocal flow went from hope to resigned disappointment: �No Capitan,� almost question, almost statement.
Time to move.
I hopped into the luminescent breach, pausing just long enough, I hoped, for the blaze of light to catch me in a dazzle of sunshine � SURPRISE! � before racing headlong at what should be my very off-balance amiga. I remember putting my teeth together � you never know how well or badly someone will react to being rushed � before the collision. Happily, joyously, it was an accepting one. I caught Stace around the midsection and lifted while she flung her arms around my neck and pulled � our center of gravity was changing as I shifted momentum, preparing a launch onto the big bed to our left. Excellent: a perfect, soft landing.
Such was intended, honestly.
It�s just that in all my experience I never expected to find a hotel room where instead of one big bed they would put two small beds, one at either wall. Thus, instead of landing in a softly sweet bounce that could be accompanied by much laughter and tossing of blankets and pillows, there was instead a rather uncongenial whack-whack-umph! sound accompanied by much groaning and checking of pupil dilation. Nothing, I�m sure, that the room hadn�t seen before, but perhaps not under such amicable circumstances.
�Stacy!� I shouted once I was sure neither of our bloodstreams was forming a delta on the floor.
�Sean�.� Came the inevitable, if somewhat subdued, response. Stace checked the immediate area for the same effluent potential, then, �SEAN!�
We embraced quite awkwardly in the between-bed gulf. Eric looked on, passively once he�d assured himself we hadn�t killed one another on impact. He, as I would shortly be made aware, was well beyond such minor contingencies as bruised friends.
�SEAN,� he said, wringing my attention from a grimacing, head-rubbing Stacy, �you have to listen to this:�
Under normal circumstances I�d have put aside Eric�s bravado � Eric is famed among our friends for it � but today there was something else in his voice�something that lent a confidence heretofore absent. I took the miniature rum bottle he offered, pulling a heartwarming shot from it before offering it to Stace, who declined while tenderly examining the lump on her head. By the end of his tale I wanted another belt.
Eric had planned to meet up with me in some foreign country since the first time I�d told him about taking the Faith on this voyage. It just so happened that he was spending this particular summer in South America, doing some study and a great deal of recreational travel. Back in Panama we�d emailed about the possibilities and it seemed the best bet would be for him to come to Ensenada � the end of his trip would coincide with our last Mexican port. He�d flown into Mexico City about the time we�d arrived in Turtle Bay, then the plan was for him to take a bus up to the west coast.
This would have worked out fine if it hadn�t been for the fact that he�d run out of cash. Old Eric was mugged shortly after stepping into the streets, leaving him with only sixty dollars he�d had tucked in the pocket of some other clothes. This shouldn�t have presented much of a problem: unlike all of my other friends, Eric has an accountant to handle his finances. It should have been a simple matter of transferring funds from one account to another so that he could access it using the ATM card he�d brought. Ah, but this being Mexico (and Eric being of a kindred with me) the simple things were bound to get complicated. All it took was for his accountant to go on vacation.