The rough road...Part 2...Pool Sharks...

“…Send lawyers, guns, and money. Dad, get me out of this…I’m a desperate man. Send lawyers, guns, and money. The shit has hit the fan…”
Warren Zevon

I woke up on the floor and for an instant I didn’t know where the hell I was. I looked around the room and as I came to my senses I realized I was in the suite at the Grand Wailea, but where was Wes? I shook my head and got up and went to the bathroom. I splashed water on my face. Jesus, I looked haggard. I stared at myself in the mirror, and as always I wondered who was staring back at me. I mumbled to myself and walked over to the bar in the suite and pulled a Budweiser out of the small fridge. I opened the curtains and stepped out on to the balcony. There was a bottle of Wild Turkey Single Barrel Kentucky Spirit empty on the table. I opened the beer and gazed out at the Wailea Activity Pool. It is 770,000 gallons, 25,700 square feet, and consists of 9 pools on 6 different levels. They are all connected by a river that ranges from whitewater rapids to gentle currents. Along the way there are slides, rope swings, a sand beach, 6 waterfalls, caves, 3 Jacuzzis, lava slide, swim up bar, and the worlds first water elevator. It is madness. I laughed to myself as I pictured armies of giant pool sharks working overtime to suck up all the drunken guests that had sunk to the bottom of the various pools. Was Wes one of them? I decided to put on my board shorts and track him down.
After what felt like an hour of trying to navigate the maze of halls and elevators I made it out of the hotel. I dropped into the river and started drifting towards the swim up bar. There was Wes, the only one at the bar. The bar is built into a cave made of faux rock with the seats in the water. I swam up and sat down next to him.
“Semak!” he hollered with a big shit eating grin.
“I knew I’d find you here,” I said.
“Bartender, get this man a Primo and a Wild Turkey and put it on my tab.”
“What time is it?” I asked.
Wes smiled and turned to the bartender. “What time is it?” He asked.
“10 am,” The bartender said.
“Jesus, you’re out early,” I said.
“Well you kept waking me up this morning. You were talking in your sleep. You just kept saying I’m not a haole mosquito. I’m with Lono.”
“Are you serious?” I asked.
“And when we ordered room service you threw your burger off the balcony. When I got up and came down to the pools this morning two janitors were sweeping it up in disgust.”
“Damn, I don’t know what got into me.” I said while rubbing my head.
“Kentucky Spirit that’s what got into you.” Wes laughed and patted me on the back.
“That burger traveled a week over the pacific just for you to just toss it over the railing for no good reason at all. But forget it.” Wes lifted his glass. “Cheers, to the island life,” He said. “I am indebted to you for bringing me out here. This really is paradise.”
“Cheers Wes. To the island life…and we can’t forget Lono,” I said.
“To Lono,” He said.
“To Lono,” I said.
“To lono,” the bartender said and took down a shot of Don Julio.
Wes turned to me and said, “Don’t forget the text message you got last night. You work for Mick Fleetwood now.”
He was right I was now employed by Mick Fleetwood. Retirement was over and I started work in 4 days. I didn’t know how I felt about it, but I was relieved that I would be making money again. My bank account had made it 3 months, but now it was completely drained. Wes would be in the same financial situation soon with the way he was running up tabs all over the hotel, and not to mention the price of the suite. He was running at nearly 100 bucks an hour at this point for two straight weeks.
“I saved for 10 years for this.” I looked at him strangely. “I know what you’re thinking, screw the money let’s just celebrate your new job,” He said.
As Wes ordered another round a man swam up and sat next to him. He was covered in bad tattoos and looked to be in his mid twenties. He had a tattoo on his bicep that stood out from the rest. It was an upside down American Flag burning. Wes turned to say hello, looked at him, and then didn’t say anything and just turned back to me and shook his head with a look that said this guy just sat next to the wrong man.
“Oh god, here it comes,” I muttered to myself.
“What’s that on your arm?” He said to the guy.
“What does it look like? Hey, bartender can I get a Mai…” Wes cut him off before he could finish. “No, he doesn’t want a drink, he’s leaving.”
“I’m not leaving old man. I’m getting a drink,” the guy said.
“Old man?! You’re not getting one goddamn drink! This is America buddy.”
Wes quickly gripped the guys forehead and slammed him backwards off of his seat and into the water. Wes jumped in after him and they began thrashing in the water. He quickly had the guy in a rear naked choke and held his head under water bringing him up to get air, loosening his choke just enough to let him gasp before violently slamming him back down again. The bartender looked the other way and pretended nothing was happening. He had seen the tattoo too. I just drank my beer and watched silently and thought about the pool sharks sucking up this poor bastard and spitting him out in some trash room deep beneath the hotel. After about 5 minutes of this Wes released his choke and returned to his seat and acted like nothing had happened. The guy continued to thrash in the water like a harpooned marlin. When the guy realized the struggle was over he started swimming frantically away from the bar until he got to the edge of the river and crawled out and laid on his back on the sidewalk trying to catch his breath. Two janitors walked past him and laughed.
“Ungrateful bastard,” Wes said.
“Haole mosquito,” I said, and we both started laughing. The bartender started laughing too.
“This rounds on me guys."

4/16/24