My chronic fear of flying doesn’t get along well with watching a stunt pilot repeatedly stall out and free fall toward the Gulf of Mexico; the water was so bright— reflecting the setting sun’s tangerine aura—that it looked like the plane was careening towards thousands of floating mirrors. I didn’t need a mirror; Todd just took a picture of me, shoving the camera in my face to be reviewed. I looked ridiculous wearing a bright white fedora. But everyone insisted it look good on me. And what are the odds that they are all playing the same cruel joke?
We were living the life, eating and drinking at a restaurant on a pier overlooking the water; a cruise liner rested its bow on my left shoulder, floating on the sea of mirrors. The rope tied to the pier, keeping the liner in place, served as the hangout for sea birds, a place where they could gather to talk about wind speed and gossip about other species of birds, and make the humans feel uncomfortable by watching them eat. Making humans uncomfortable is what brings all species of birds together, I noticed. I thought to have one more lobster quesadilla, but once I notice a seagull staring disapprovingly at me, I decide better of it; I felt fat. The sun would set in roughly a half hour; but my camera phone would never be prepared, and I was disappointed in advance of the pictures it would take of the sun playfully peaking over the horizon before saying its goodbyes to the rest of the country. The Californians were lucky; they had so much more time to spend with the sun.
We sipped on our drinks as we waited. I grew fond of my Pina Colada— garnished with a generous slice of pineapple and a cherry, she was beautiful. And if the fruits were her looks, then the extra shot of Bacardi floating on the top is her personality—and she had a strong personality. Every time I moved to kiss her, she would diminish a little. And I grew sad because I knew once she was gone I couldn’t afford her again.
We spoke about how lucky we were and then moved onto other topics; but our conversation kept returning to the same subject like an ex-lover with no resolve. “I can’t believe we’re here right now,” Todd surveyed the water. I couldn’t either. It was our second day in Key West. The night before we got acquainted with the island; we wandered around, we felt newly emancipated like middle-schoolers on their senior year trip to Disney-- when they can go around the park without chaperones.
The trip was amazing. Mike was right; it brought Todd, Toltzis, Ashley and I closer together. We ate together, drank together, witnessed our first drag show together, relaxed on the beach together, danced together, laughed together, got over hangovers together, cheered together, booed together, and brought in the new year together. It was my intention to start creating epic scenes in my life, and as the sun recklessly shot deep vivid oranges and reds into the sky, piercing the clouds—who were eagerly awaiting to greet the moon good evening, I knew I was on the right track.
The check arrived and the four of us lifted our drinks, the scene grew darker and darker as the sun turned its attention toward California, and then a fade to black.
No comments:
Post a Comment