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| Maybe those drinks were larger than normal |
As I write this I am in the process of returning from my first trip to Florida and the Bahamas. The final destination for me was the city of Freeport, Bahamas. I have a customer, believe it or not, who has a huge project planned there. They will be expanding a marine loading terminal and plan to buy several million dollars of my kind of equipment for the expansion. Of course, no one in my office actually believes that I have a customer in the Bahamas, but I swear on my mother’s thong bikini bathing suit that this is a legitimate endeavor.
Since this is a important project for me, I did not want to risk any weather or mechanical delays while traveling, so I arrived a day and a half early. And 24 hours prior to my appointment time, I took a taxi from my hotel and did a dry run to the customer’s office. I timed out how long it took the taxi to come to the hotel and how long the drive took. I even checked with Security at the main gate at my destination to make sure there would be no problems bringing my laptop computer in to the compound. Some companies are very sensitive to computers being brought in, since data can be smuggled out so easily.
It took 25 minutes from hotel to destination. Good. This was going to be like a precise military operation. Everything would go like clockwork. Nothing left to chance. Except I wouldn’t need to wear camo or use my night vision goggles. But I considered painting camo stripes on my face anyway since that was kinda cool.
I took the cab back to my hotel and relaxed by the pool. After all, I was in the Bahamas. I changed in to beachwear and found the pool. I had originally thought about a snorkeling excursion that afternoon, but decided to wait until after my big presentation. I did not want anything, like getting too much sun or being eaten by a shark to keep me from doing my best in front of the customer. So I just relaxed in the outdoor bar chatting with fellow travelers who were there on vacation.
They were drinking a fruity drink they referred to as a Bahama Mama and seemed to be enjoying them. It was hot, and I was thirsty, so I thought I would try one too. Fruit drinks are good for you, aren’t they? It was tasty and the bar was running a special of two for one. So, I cheerily had another. And others, since they were arriving in pairs. I was on hotel property, and no cash was exchanged, just a signature and a room number. How convenient. The afternoon passed quickly. How did it suddenly get so dark? And where was my room? What was my name?
I woke up the next morning feeling as if I had been eaten by that shark. My back hurt. My stomach was in knots. I felt as if I had been left on a desert island to die. What had I done? And this was the morning of my big presentation! Good gawd. How was I going to make it? I crawled in to the shower. The gentle water instead felt like a fire hose of lava and hail stones hitting me. I staggered out and toweled off. I noticed something odd in the mirror. (and I know what you mean people are thinking, but you are wrong) I twisted around and realized I had a rather large tattoo right between my shoulder blades. Hmmm. I hoped it was just a hallucination. Lower down on my back I could see a row of ragged stitches about the size of a wallet where my kidney had been. Damn. That was probably not good.
I stumbled out, got dressed and found my way down to the taxi stand. No time for food or coffee. I looked at my watch. Amazingly, I had just enough time to get to the customer’s office. My military precision was still in operation. I met with the client, and even though he asked me a few times if I was OK, I think the presentation went well. I don’t think he noticed the weeping wound or could hear my brain pounding as it tried to escape from my skull.
As I write this, I do not know the decision of my customer and if I will get the largest order of my career. But I did pass some important milestones in my life. For one, I can add the Bahamas as another country to my list of nations that I have been to. And more importantly to me, I can finally claim fame for having visited all 50 states now that I have officially been in Florida during this trip.
But to be honest, other events mentioned in this piece were not actually experienced. I did not consume any fruity drinks, I do not think I am missing a kidney, nor am I sporting a new tattoo, that I know of. But I did have a bad case of stomach distress the morning of my big presentation. It was most likely the result of eating spoiled tartar sauce, but that does not sound near as interesting as consuming mass quantities of Bahama Mamas and losing a kidney.
What I did is what is referred to as “taking artistic license” with the truth. I like that. It allows me to lie, and to claim to be an artist, all in just three words. And if I have a license it must mean this is official. So, if you ever find yourself consuming too much fruit juice and waking up with fewer internal organs than you started life with, just remember that you do not have to resort to “taking artistic license”. You can honestly claim that your foolish behavior has given you a good story. You might want to be pro-active, however, and pick out a cool looking tattoo pattern, just in case.
