Day Eight: Morning

I am sitting on the beach, beside the broken yacht writing this as a cool breeze comes in off of the ocean. I got to thinking yesterday about how I handled my first few gigs and my life in Vegas. I never pussied around. I never backed down from a fight, unless it was one I knew I couldn’t win and even then I still fought, but I fought smart. Why should now be any different?

I’m going to have to face this person and this way I can face him on my terms.

The smell from on board has abated. I may try and go back on even thought the very thought of it makes my brain itch. There might be some useful supplies or information, but I don’t really want to try it with the possibility that he might catch me in a tight place.

So let me tell you more about me, since I have the time.

I spent about three years in the greatest city in America. I dealt cards, drugs, and used cars based on order of honesty required (descending of course). All of this was like finishing school for me. I needed to know more about human nature if I was to get where I wanted. By the end I had built up quite a nest egg and I began to think of the best ways and places to use my skills.

As fun as Vegas was I had begun to tire of the heat. So at the advice of some companions I decided to head to Switzerland and learn how to ski. They also assured me that I could continue my studies with some of my fellow American tourists. I had learned just how big of a fish the tourists could be and the idea of nouveau riche Americans abroad with their beautiful daughters sounded like just the ticket for me.

With a month’s preparation I was able to build a pretty air tight identity and soon I was flying to what I hoped would be a glorious year in Europe. It ended up being less glorious than I anticipated and it took much longer than a year for me to extract myself from the mess I had gotten myself into. I’d go into it more but I think I have a fish on the line now.