Island in the Sun

CONCORD, Calif. (AP) A man died Wednesday after apparently being run over by his own truck, authorities said.

William Lee, 61, was working on the grounds of Dalis Gardens Mobile Home Park, where he lived, when he parked his Ford F151 truck and got out, said Concord police Sgt. Scott Staten.

The large pickup truck was not in park, and began to roll, Staten said. Lee tried to get back in the truck, but was struck by the open driver's side door. He suffered severe injuries, but was able to give a statement when police arrived.

However, he died about seven hours later at John Muir Medical Center in Walnut Creek.

An autopsy determined the cause of death was massive internal bleeding and multiple blunt impact trauma to the torso. Coroner's Sgt. Bryan Reynolds said cardiovascular disease was a contributing factor.

Reynolds said the injuries indicated that the truck's wheels ran over Lee's body.

Happy Turkey Day everyone… I must apologize though, I cheated. I didn’t have turkey, I had fresh (we’re talking pulled-out-of-the-sea-yesterday fresh) lobster tail and New York strip steak (not pulled out of the sea) with mashed potatoes, garlic bread, stir-fried veggies and a delicious Chilean merlot. But I have a good excuse! I figured, “heck, I’m doing Thanksgiving all by myself, it’d better be damn tasty!”

After dinner I got to know Claire, co-owner of Hamilton’s (my favorite restaurant on the island). Her husband’s off on a road-trip with his dad, she’s home minding shop. We chatted about our various nutty relations and once again, I heard more stories about Doug. All in all, the company was welcome, and one of many things I was thankful for as the day wore on. I’ve blathered enough about the place, so won’t repeat the entire list here. ;-)

Heeheehee... alright, here's the update, like I promised:

Last Day
I gotta say, my last day was rougher than I thought it would be. There wasn't a whole lot to do, but it was all fairly important so I was a bit stressed, trying to make sure I didn't forget anything... then nothing. I took calls like normal for awhile, chatted a lot with co-workers, and sat around being extremely twitchy, waiting for my exit interview, final check, etc.

The interview was easy enough, nothing to say that I haven't already said many times. I pointed out what I thought the major struggles for the site were: morale and doubt about the site's lifespan; a broken pay raise that gave everybody the same increase, regardless of performance (as well as the elementary math required to have maintained the same budget while recognizing each employee's individual contribution and performance); how Management is essentially unable to improve morale because they can never state flatly that the site will not close (simple business, it could happen), and their primary means of incentive (pay) was taken away for a whole year by the idiots across the country who make significantly more money... Then they told me my check would be late.

To be fair, they were planning to overnight it to me on Thursday, but even so, I would be out of the country before it arrived. It got a little sticky when I pointed out the trouble they were causing me as well as their legal obligation to give me an additional day's pay for every day the final check was late. I didn't push it too much, I only demanded a single day's pay, even though it's been six days and I still don't have access to my cash. In the end they coughed it up.

Next came all the good-byes. That was the hardest part. My excitement over my future prospects conflicted greatly with the dissappointment of losing access to all my friends as well as knowing they weren't getting the huge life-change like me. I was surprised with a cake (hadn't thought I rated one) as well as a warm send-off from way more people than I expected. Thanks guys! All the warm fuzzies tweaked my emotional mixture even more. I also received a lovely card and two books: a bartender's guide and a guide to Belize (both of which were heavily browsed throughout my trip)... and then I was out the door and on my way, the known world falling away behind me and a new one rising over the distant horizon. Very surreal.

The Trip
What a nutty trip this was! Our flight from Portland was scheduled for 6:30 AM on Thursday the 17th. Because I worked right up to the last day, I made a mad dash to get packed starting around 1-ish, as soon as I got home from work. Doug was already wound pretty tight; he hates traveling in the US. Teig was fairly tense but focused. We ripped through everything with practised ease (we've both moved a billion times and travelled many more), dodging an increasingly drunk and ornery Doug. At some point the scales tipped and Doug slipped from cranky to jovial, as well as from coherent to blithering. By about 8 o'clock he was passed-out in the guest room.

Everybody was alive and ready at 12:30 AM when we rolled out. Lisa, one of Teig's friends, drove us up there and brought his vehicle back to Eugene afterwards. We were aiming to be there at 3:30 AM because American Airlines had said to be there 3 hours early (international flight, with a dog). Once we arrived (at 3 AM) we found out that American Airlines doesn't open until 4:15 AM. Yay, stupid bastards. Lisa took-off and we wandered off to wait. Eventually they showed-up, did the paperwork and we were ready to wait some more, until departure.

Ten minutes before departure they announced that there would be a delay: one of the wheels on the plane was deemed unsafe... a minute later it was two wheels and we were looking at a 90-minute delay. Shit, that meant we'd miss our connecting flight from Dallas to Belize City. In and of itself, that wasn't a problem; we didn't mind waiting in the airport, but Teig's dog couldn't be expected to go two days in a freakin' dog carrier, especially when outdoor temperatures were dropping below 40 degrees. After some interesting gymnastics, an angel behind the counter managed to get us rebooked onto a completely full flight at 11:57 PM that night, with an acceptable layover in Dallas, then off to Belize.

With everything arranged, we headed off to find a hotel in Portland that'd take dogs (Lisa was already in Eugene by this time and we weren't doing the drive with Doug and the dog again). Once we had a room, we all crashed... sort of. I won't mention any names, but one member of our party snored so loud that the younger fellas couldn't sleep a wink... so Teig and I went to the bar and played a sleep-deprived version of pool. Once Doug woke-up I snagged a couple hours of shut-eye before we headed off to the airport again. This time the paperwork was faster, likely due to the simple fact that we didn't have to wait an hour for someone to reach the front desk.

The flight was decent, although Doug's a bit of a lady's man... no, excuse me, he's a total slut. Inevitably, this meant that the flight attendant with the tight skirt and long legs that Doug took a shine to was constantly slipping Doug free refills of red wine from the "good stuff" in first-class as an excuse to flirt with him. He was so sloshed by the time we left the plane, he was weaving a bit, and quite cheerful. After that, things were pretty simple for a time. Dallas-Fort Worth is a comfy airport. They had a few cots out, so Doug and I each snagged one and enjoyed a bit of down time. This time I had my headphones on, so I slept soundly. No, Teig didn't sleep. In fact, he only snoozed for about half an hour the entire time (about 2 ½ days)... and yes, he was pretty fried by the time we finally stopped, poor bastard.

Anyway, we finally landed in Belize City. Yay! I have a hard time explaining how incredibly delightful it is for me, each time I step through a plane door into the tropics. As I was born in the tropics and spent the first dozen years of my life there, I feel a blissful sense of homecoming whenever I return. I had a shit-eating grin on my face the whole time we were in the airport. Teig didn't have all the papers he needed to get his dog into the country (because Doug had actually told him to skip them) so his dad got to shine when the head of Immigration came personally to see to our needs. Doug has friends here.

Next we had to get a flight from the airport to the island. This whole process took about half an hour because the dog carrier was too big for the luggage compartments on the island-hopper planes. Once again, it paid to have friends: after a call from the airline manager to his boss, five tourists were bumped from the very next flight so the three of us and our dog could take their places. I felt a little bad, but seeing as we'd already been travelling far longer than we'd anticipated, the feeling passed quickly.

The weather was getting rough with Tropical Storm Gamma coming in, but we made it out of the airport... just fifteen minutes before they closed the airport due to weather. They did so because a plane had been lost in the storm. We found this out in mid-flight. Heh! Teig's never been all that fond of flying, so it really didn't sit well with him. But, regardless, it was out of our hands. I ended-up taking a nap during the flight: why worry when you can't do anything about it? After a bumpy ride we landed safely. Everyone at the airport adored Jasmine (Teig's dog) in spite of the fact that none of us had any luggage due to our dog. Well, not everyone. Two of the passengers were traveling with the five people who got bumped; they didn't seem at all charmed by Jasmine. Originally they had been told their luggage and their five friends would come on the next flight, but with the airport closed our luggage and their friends wouldn't arrive until the next day. Once again, I felt a little bad for them, but I had no luggage either and I could do without for a day, so the sympathy only lasted about a minute. Yeah, I know, I'm an ass.

The Island
The first two days were a bit grey and "chilly" according to local standards (I think it got down to sixty-something at night), but still brighter and warmer than Eugene. After the storm blew itself out, the world turned gorgeous. Much of my enjoyment is damn near impossible to impart through text, but I'll try. If you're prone to jealousy you may want to re-read the hard parts of my trip before continuing... that is, if I can actually describe this experience well enough to induce jealousy.

Doug's house is where we first went, and it's where I am writing this post. From the second-story back deck, I can throw rocks into the ocean or onto his dock. There are two sea kayaks here as well. Teig and I had planned on kayaking on Friday morning, but with us arriving late Friday night and Gamma blowing, we still haven't been out yet. The view from the back porch is spectacular. The sea is a mix of deep blues and vivid aquamarine with touches of a deeper green flickering in waves from time to time (I know, I haven't posted pictures yet, be patient). The breeze (there's almost always a breeze on the top floor) is gentle and carries a hint of salt as well as perfumes from the plumeria, honeysuckle, and other flowers, most of which bloom year-round. No, I didn't mention hibiscus or bougainvillea; they have practically no smell. They're very pretty though and they bring back lots of memories. There are so many plants here that I recognize from my childhood. It's funny though, most of the names I know come from halfway around the world and aren't generally known here.

Sunrise and sunset are quick and brilliant except on the rare cloudy days, then they’re gentler and last longer. The days are warm and the nights are too, though the only time I break a sweat is in the heat of the day. This is the "cold" season though, so it'll get hotter. Average daily high temperature in tourist season is around 85 to 90 degrees. There are tons of birds around, including an osprey that pirches on the lightpost on the dock out back. I've spent several enjoyable minutes watching it hunt. It floats along, facing into the breeze, then starts fluttering its wings to hold its exact location, extending its talons towards the water. Then it dips forward and flashes down into the water. You can usually tell if it's got something just by how violently it surfaces. The heavier the load, the more splashing and thrashing as it surfaces and takes off... and with the fish glittering in the sun it's very cool to watch.

Doug's place is about half a mile north of San Pedro, the only town on the island. Further north are mostly resorts and a huge national park with ten ancient mayan sites. I can't wait to wander around them! On the south end of town is my bar. The resort portion is "The Maya's Katuts" and the bar is the "Copa Cabana"... I know, the barname is hardly original, but I didn't pick it, so don't blame me. There’re 14 rooms, but they all need work, some desperately. Of course, Teig and I have done this kind of stuff for a few years, so we’re amped. The only bummer to that is I may not be able to stick you at my place if you visit in the near future. But don’t worry. Lemme know when you’re coming and I’ll make sure to set you up with the best deal I can manage, wherever that may be. The bar itself is pretty damn cool. Almost all of it is outdoors. The bar proper as well as a few tables are covered. The pool is definitely not covered, nor is the palm tree island in the pool :-D We spent some time the other night after closing, drinking with our new co-workers. “Genuine and delightful” is about how I’d describe them.

It's at the bar that I first encountered one of my favorite aspects of Belizean culture: you're expected to flirt. In America, you can notice somebody's good-looking, but you're expected to admire discreetly. Here, if you see an attractive person you're expected to appreciate beauty with a smile, nod, wink, or whatever. If you happen to be within shouting distance, compliments are welcome. I’m not talking about dumping a hungry stare on everybody you see or cat-calls, more like admitting that you like what you see when that’s the case. This isn't just single people, by the way, this is everyone. Earlier today I got to put huge smiles on a couple's faces by basically checking-out the wife and telling the husband he's clearly got good taste as well as good fortune. Of course, we stopped to chat for a moment, one thing led to another, they'll drop-by our bar tomorrow to visit and tip a beer or three. It's funny too, when you do it to the tourists. Oftentimes they don't know how to react. There's a funny mix of pleasure at the compliment and doubt because they're not used to hearing them... and yeah, I like to tweak the Gringos. I'm entirely sincere, which they usually figure out after a moment or two, so no harm done, but it's fun to startle them pleasantly. I'm finding this to be a commonly accepted way to save money too: when you have a choice, go to a cashier of the opposite sex and flirt; the price has a magical way of shrinking. Charming place!

In terms of cost-reduction, Spanish is also very valuable. Most folks here are bilingual, speaking English to deal with tourists and Spanish to deal with locals. Greet the cashier in Spanish, chat as far as you can and as soon as you get lost, they switch to English to help you out. Since you've clearly made an effort to fit into their world, you get treated less like a tourist and more like a local. The glasses sitting on the desk by me were priced at BZ$28 (BZ$2 = US$1) but I paid BZ$21. Many of the tourist places list their prices in US$ but accept the same amount in BZ$ from locals (essentially half-off) so getting “in” with the locals makes all the fun the island has to offer more accessible. The whole "attempting to fit in" deal works in other ways too. Dreddy's Bar is on the way between our place and Doug's. As I drive by on the golf cart at about 10MPH, if I see Dreddy, I wave, pull in, and have a beer. Three days of that (and probably six beers) put me in his house with his wife, puffing a joint of some Guatamalan hydroponic goodness. I like Dreddy. I like a lot of people here, for many reasons. Just being friendly works wonders, and most people here are friendly.

Most of you already know that I've smoked ganga fairly constantly for the last decade, but I gotta tell you, I hardly have the urge here. I don't have to keep my reactions under wraps, I can be open and friendly with a total stranger and not get treated like a jerk or an idiot. Quite the contrary, in fact, I get a friend! Heh! Did I mention I love it here?

Don't get me wrong, this place isn't perfect. There's definitely some underlying racial tension. Remember the whole thing about tourists paying US$ while locals pay BZ$? Well, that bites 'em in the ass going the other direction: if you take two equally skilled laborers and have them do the same job, the American/European will get paid X number of US$ while the local worker will get the same X number of BZ$. Needless to say, no intelligent person (e.g. me and mine) follows this practice. Besides, this ends-up saving much more money in the long run as the locals learn you're not one of the “greedy Gringos” and don't just give you decent prices, they befriend you and lend a hand when you need one.

This doesn't mean you want to walk your white ass into a backstreet bar by yourself; you may not walk out unscathed. With an appropriate escort you can go almost anywhere, but so far, Doug's the only person I've met who seems welcome everywhere. He's got quite a reputation here. As he says, "Everybody knows I'll help if they need help, and I'll hit you if you fuck with me." He used to be a proffesional boxer and Judo master and he's got a gun (rare for a non-native) that he's used on multiple occasions. No, he doesn't shoot people, not that I know of. He did shoot-out all of his neighbor's outdoor lights when they left them on for several months while they were in the States (he said they kept him up at night, though I don’t see how). They didn't like that too well, but when they called the police, Doug was told not to shoot at their house again and that was it. The moral of the story? I dunno. Maybe that sincerity is respected in almost any form here, even if you're just sincerely hacked-off. Maybe it's that friendship is a valuable commodity here. Maybe it's just pointing out that even the wildest, worst behaved of us can have a heart of gold... or that it's past my bedtime.

Alright, I'm getting too philosophical to continue. I'll round-up some pictures in the next few days and pop 'em online... not that I'm trying to make anyone jealous, I just want you all to come visit ;-)

What kind of looter am I? You decide!
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