Drink, Play, F@#k

by Andrew Gottlieb

  Fortunately my heart also communicated with my arms and had them start paddling toward the harbor. My brain was extremely surprised. Not quite as surprised as Peter, however. I heard him yelling at me from the yacht.

  “Are you out of your fucking mind?!”

  I turned back to him as I swam.

  “Sorry, Peter! I have to see someone! Bye!”

  Peter watched me swim away with a look of confusion and a little bit of disgust.

  “Yeah, whatever,” he replied. “Just watch out for those little fish that swim up your dick!”

  And those were the last words I ever heard him say. Not necessarily the most momentous of farewells. But, then again, he wasn’t the most momentous of guys. Considering that I met Peter at an airport as well, I might have expected him to have a more profound effect on me like Colin and Rick did. But I guess not everyone you meet in an airport can be your guru. Or maybe you can meet your gurus only at the baggage claim.

  Anyway, my heart, feet, arms, legs, eyeballs, ear sockets, and islets of Langerhans were all regretting my decision to jump and swim pretty quickly. My clothes were weighing me down and the possibility of penis fish—no matter how unlikely—was disturbing. Luckily, the dock wasn’t far away and before long I was pulling myself out of the water to the great amusement of dozens of Thai fishermen. All in all, this had been an extremely entertaining morning for them.

  I ran up the ramp that led to the pier. Then I ran down the pier toward the area where Alicia had emerged from the ferry. The port was really crowded so I had to pick my way through the tourists and locals and even some livestock. I debated whether or not I should shout out “Alicia!” My first instinct was that it would be way too clichéd and melodramatic to do that. Although I really liked it when Rocky called for Adrienne at the end of Rocky. But they had a relationship already and it felt more organic. Just like they teach you when you take the SATs, I went with my first instinct and kept quiet.

  By the time I got to the ferry landing, however, I immediately wished that I had pulled a Rocky and shouted out Alicia’s name. Because she was nowhere in sight.

  So there I stood: dripping wet, out of breath, perplexed, and slightly stunned. In the distance I heard the unmistakable sound of a ship’s horn. I looked out to sea just in time to spot Peter’s yacht cruising around a bend and disappearing from sight.

  I have often suspected that I am an idiot but my suspicions have rarely been confirmed to the degree that they were at that moment. Soaked, stupid, sad, and alone I started trudging my way back to the Cove.

  32

  I have no idea what I had hoped to achieve with my reckless dive from Peter’s yacht and subsequent Australian crawl back to shore. I guess I was planning on some kind of Hollywood-y romantic reunion drama. Like Alicia would see me all wet and crazy and she’d instantly realize that we were soul mates and we’d kiss and hug and then she’d get some laughs complaining that I was ruining her new outfit. Then I’d undercut the laughs by saying something like, “We’ve got the rest of our lives to get you a new outfit.” Then the credits would roll and the audience would sniffle and smile and head out of the theater blinking into the sunlight and wondering why their lives sucked so bad.

  That’s not what happened. Instead I ended up taking a rickety bus filled with old women and chickens as close to the Cove as I could get. Then I hired an eight-year-old boy to row me across the lagoon. He spoke English well enough to radically overcharge me for the trip. I never quite figured out the baht-to-dollar exchange rate, but I think I paid him around $300. In order to preserve the secret sanctity of the Cove, I told the kid an elaborate lie that I was an avid bird-watcher and there had been a recent sighting of a rare Nicobar pigeon across the lagoon. The kid just shrugged and said he figured that I was going to the Cove, but good luck with the birds. It turned out that the Cove was primarily a secret for the Western world. Most Thai locals were very much aware of the resort—they just didn’t care about it.

  The kid left me on the far side of the lagoon and, as soon as he was gone, I wished that he—or some other Thai local—would come back. Because those guys might know all about the Cove’s whereabouts but I was damned if I could remember how to get there. The whole coastline was dense jungle. I had passed through here several times in the 4x4 with Chula, but I didn’t see a single opening in the flora large enough for Kate Moss to pass through, let alone a truck.

  I thought I saw a path so I pushed through the foliage into the jungle. After approximately eight seconds of thrashing about through the bush, I was completely lost. There was no path. I was unable to retrace my steps back to the beach. Every step I did take seemed to lead me deeper and deeper into the bowels of the wild.

  It was now about eight hundred degrees. Flies were eating me alive. Scary jungle noises were emanating from, appropriately, the jungle. The overgrowth was so thick that I couldn’t even see the sun through the trees. I had no water, no food, I had humiliated myself in front of Devika (who I had also abandoned), and I was utterly convinced that I was never going to see Alicia again.

  I sat down in a small opening between two banana trees and I buried my head in my hands. I probably should have cried, but it just didn’t happen. I hope that doesn’t mitigate my depression. I mean, lots of people cry for no reason—that doesn’t mean they’re sadder than they really are. So take my word for it—I was sad. I’m talking sad on an existential level. It was as if all the wonderful times that I’d had all year were suddenly meaningless—and I couldn’t figure out why.

  I knew that I had an awesome adventure. Ireland, Vegas, Thailand . . . I’d seen things and met people and had experiences that I never could have imagined in my old life. So why was I sitting in the woods, lost and scared and upset? Could it really be Alicia? Was I just so pathetic that I couldn’t stand to be alone? Or was there something special about her? Was she really the one for me? And had I recognized that fact just a hair too late, and now I was never going to know for sure?

  What kind of an idiot loser sits in the tropical jungle and asks himself nothing but whiny, unanswerable questions? Because they were unanswerable. The only way I’d ever be able to know the truth—the only way I’d ever find out if Alicia was the key to my deep, true, and everlasting happiness—would be if she were with me at that moment. And that was impossible. So I should just forget about her and get on with my idiot loser life—which might be over soon anyway if I couldn’t find my way out of here.

  I stood up, took one step between the two banana trees, and instantly got hit by a speeding SUV.

  Technically speaking, it was the 4x4 driven by Chula—but that’s still an SUV, right? I’ve never been clear on that subject. Can you call one of those old-school, open-top Jeeps an SUV? Is that the one thing that Dwight D. Eisenhower has in common with a soccer mom? Or is a Jeep a Jeep and I should shut up already? I guess I’ll never know.

  What I did know was that I had obviously stumbled across the path through the jungle to the Cove and that Chula had just nailed me with the company 4x4. I knew that Chula was driving because, after the truck hit me, I bounced up over the fender and landed on the hood, staring right through the wind-shield. So I could clearly see Chula’s face, which was frozen in horror and surprise.

  I was even more surprised than Chula, however. Because not only had a vehicle just crashed into me out of the blue in the middle of the jungle while I was bemoaning the fact that I’d never see Alicia again—but Alicia was sitting in the passenger seat.

  33

  Okay—it’s an extremely unlikely turn of events. I know this. The serendipitous nature of this accident strains credulity. But I really would like you to believe me. It happened. Hell, bizarre things happen all the time. Once I was walking past a Starbucks in Phoenix and I suddenly decided to call an old college friend whom I hadn’t seen in years. When he answered the phone, it turned out that he was sitting in the exact same Starbucks that I was walking past! God (and/or the universe) works in mysterious ways
. (An interesting footnote to that story: when I went into the Starbucks to see my friend, Sean Astin was sitting there drinking a frappuccino. You know, Sean Astin the actor. Samwise Gamgee from the Lord of the Rings trilogy, just chilling out with some java. He was in town for a book signing tour. I was so excited to see him that I actually forgot that my college friend was there.)

  There were no hobbits, elves, or wizards in the 4x4. But I don’t think I would have been any more shocked if there had been. Alicia was totally stunned as well. I’m pretty sure that all three of us were screaming in fear and surprise. After a few seconds—and, frankly, a few seconds too many—Chula slammed on the brakes. I flew off the hood, smashed into a mahogany tree, and landed in a thicket of ginger plants.

  When I looked up, Alicia was standing over me. Her mouth was moving but all I could hear was the blood rushing in my head. I don’t know if it was love or a severe concussion, but I just stared at her without understanding a word she said. She knelt down beside me and laid her hand against my forehead. Somehow, even in the horrible heat, her skin was cool and soothing. Her touch rescued me from my stupor and I could understand her now.

  “Bobby? Are you okay?” she asked.

  Bobby. She remembered my name. An excellent sign. I explained that—considering I had just been struck by a vehicle—I actually felt fine. And I really did. I felt great. I asked her what she was doing here. Her response was, “What am I doing here? What are you doing here?”

  I was about to answer her as she and Chula helped me to my feet but I got sidetracked by the most profound agony that I had ever experienced. I shrieked like a wounded schoolgirl (not my finest hour) and collapsed to the ground, shuddering. My entire pelvic region had suddenly turned into a giant ball of pain. It felt like the area between my hip bones was filled with liquid fire and shattered glass. This is not a good feeling.

  “We have to get him to a hospital,” Alicia said. I agreed wholeheartedly.

  But Chula had a different plan. He explained that the Thai countryside was a place of great beauty and spirituality. It was also a place of terrible health care. His uncle Panyarachun went to the local hospital once complaining of shortness of breath. One of the doctors removed his liver and sold it on the Laotian black market. I quickly shifted my wholehearted agreement to the “no hospital” camp.

  Chula told us that, without a doubt, the best medical care possible would be found at the Cove. Since everything else there was first class I assumed that he was right about this too. So he and Alicia lifted me up and placed me in the back of the truck as carefully as they could, which was no way nearly careful enough. We drove back to the Cove at around two miles per hour—but the uneven jungle path and the fifty-year-old shock absorbers were not doing my damaged body any favors.

  Alicia held my hand and tried to distract me from the pain by commenting on the sights.

  “Look,” she said, pointing off into the greenery. “Isn’t that a long-tailed macaque?” Chula nailed a massive pothole and, for a moment, I saw nothing but white light and I thought that my heart was going to pop out of my chest like the baby monster in Alien. Alicia squeezed my hand, pointed to another sliver of jungle canopy, and said, “I’m pretty sure that’s a rednecked phalarope.”

  I was not interested in the native wildlife. But I appreciated the effort. I squeezed her hand in return. I was aware that I was in some serious physical pain. But I truly and honestly didn’t care, because I was holding hands with Alicia while she insisted on naming every frigging animal she saw in the jungle. I guess my unanswerable questions were being answered after all. A moment ago I was miserable. Now Alicia was here and I was happy.

  For all of God’s (and/or the universe’s) mysterious ways, sometimes things are extremely simple. You can talk and talk and pray and pray and meditate and meditate, but none of that will change the facts of life. And one of those facts is as follows. Even when you’re scared, lost, overheated, lonely, miserable, and in extreme agony after having been struck in the midsection by an automobile, the right woman can magically make everything instantly okay.

  34

  I must have passed out at some point during the drive because the next thing I remember is waking up in a large, comfortable bed in a beautifully appointed bungalow while the sound of waves slapping against the sand floated in through the windows and a ceiling fan gently caressed sweet breezes throughout the room. A lovely young Thai woman in a nurse’s uniform was applying a cold compress to my forehead. You know how in the movies people wake up in these idyllic situations and think that they’re dead? Well, I actively wished that I were dead and in heaven. All I needed was a sixty-inch HDTV with a satellite hookup and I was set for all eternity. But as I shifted slightly in bed, the lightning bolt of pain that shot through my body shattered my fantasy. It seems unlikely that one would have tear-inducing discomfort in heaven. That kind of ruins the whole idea of paradise—even if there are hot Asian nurses.

  I have never been one to suffer quietly and I think that I may have let loose with another ear-splitting little-girl scream. Alicia ran into the room and I attempted to toughen up. As soon as I saw her I remembered why I was glad that I wasn’t dead. Sexy angel nurses are fine—but they’re really nothing more than a nice appetizer. Alicia was a full meal—with a rich Chianti and some crème brûlée thrown in for good measure.

  She explained to me that I had been unconscious for almost twenty-four hours—partly due to the massive amounts of pain medicine that had been administered intravenously. As luck would have it, the head orthopedist from Oklahoma Surgical Hospital was staying at the Cove. She had already diagnosed me with a slightly fractured pelvis and prescribed extended bed rest and the continued liberal intake of pain meds. I didn’t really need the head orthopedist from Oklahoma Surgical Hospital to tell me to stay in bed. I wasn’t physically capable of going anywhere anyway. Fortunately the beautifully appointed room I was in turned out to actually be my bedroom in my bungalow. Alicia and Chula had carried me all the way there while I was out cold. So all the moving that I was going to do had been done for me already.

  Alicia explained to me that she was at the Cove to film it as part of her documentary about great, underexposed travel destinations. When I pointed out that the Cove wasn’t so much underexposed as it was a total secret, she said that she would be maintaining the site’s anonymity. I was wondering how she even knew about the Cove but that question temporarily got lost among the other million questions I had for her. I wanted to know what she’d been up to since Ireland, and she was interested in the same about me. But first she had to check in with her film crew and get them set up to start shooting. She headed off but promised to come back in a few hours.

  As I watched her go I actually sighed out loud. That may not sound like that big a deal—but how often do you actually sigh audibly? Think about it. Not that often, I bet. I heard the sound I’d just made and it startled me. What the hell was going on here? Shrieking, fainting, sighing . . . I was starting to act like a character from a Jane Austen novel. Either I was in love or I was Elinor Dashwood.

  Before I get into the whole Alicia thing too deeply—and it’s gonna get deep, brace yourselves—let me say a few things about a broken pelvis. It sucks. That’s just one thing to say, I guess, but it’s the only thing that needs to be said. Frankly, I was extremely lucky to have sustained only a mild fracture. Had Chula whacked me a little bit harder, or if I’d ricocheted off that mahogany tree with a little more force, the bones might have snapped clean through. And then I’d be in the middle of a whole other kind of nightmare. As it was, I felt pretty comfortable as long as I didn’t move or put pressure on it. Dr. Oklahoma assured me that if I just took it easy and allowed the crack to heal, I’d be fine and dandy within a month. The bedpan issue was the most unpleasant part of the whole situation and I am definitely not going to get into that in any kind of graphic detail. Suffice it to say that the hot Asian nurse—whose name was Maliwan and turned out to be so unbelievably s
weet that I felt terrible about ever having thought of her as a hot Asian nurse—truly was an angel. Tipping was forbidden at the Cove, but before I left I bought Maliwan a Vespa. Trust me—she earned it.

  So there I was in my bed, immobilized by a fissure in my pelvic bone. And as painful as the prospect of moving even a centimeter was to me, I would rather have done a dozen jumping jacks on a trampoline while a motorcycle gang kicked me in the groin than do what I had to do next. But sometimes a guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do. I took advantage of Alicia’s temporary absence and asked Chula to see if Devika would come by.

  35

  I heard the footsteps outside my room before I saw her enter. I prepared myself for drama. I have not had a ton of experience dealing with different women in my life. My wife is the primary point of reference when it comes to anticipating how women will react. If I had abandoned my wife on a boat surrounded by strangers and swam away looking for another woman, I’m pretty sure how she would respond. She would go apeshit—not that I can really blame her. Getting ditched in the Gulf of Thailand is right up there with being left behind at the circus when your parents take you into the city to see the elephants. In their defense, they did come right back as soon as they realized their mistake. Plus it was a simpler time back then before all the Internet predators and such. Anyway, as angry as I was at my folks, I figured that Devika would be even more pissed off at me.

  She entered the room and right away I saw that I had it all wrong. She wasn’t mad. She was concerned. She thought that I’d fallen off the boat and broken my pelvis when I hit the water. So, now, not only did I have to apologize for abandoning her, I had to explain to her that I abandoned her and then apologize for it.