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Pecking order politics
Whenever a major event put any of the travelers in a position of difficulty, a rejockeying for position in the group's pecking order followed. After the major events of the past day, realignment was inevitable. "I don't know, Señor, first the speech in the center of town, then getting chased out of the water by a barracuda that Nuco says is harmless," Medio began, as they readied the dorry to leave the key and return to Utila. "Seems like your position in the group has been severely damaged."
"I did go back in after the barracuda once I had the spear gun," the BigGuy reminded Medio.
"The Fatneck says barracuda don't bite," Medio said, again referring to Nuco's earlier scoffing.
"The Fatneck had the spear gun," the BigGuy replied.
"What does our guide say?" Medio looked at the boatman who stood waiting for the travelers to board the dorry.
"Barracoodah don' bite," the boatman said, gazing out to sea, then into his motorized dorry.
"BigGuy?" Medio said triumphantly. "I'd say your position at the bottom of the pile is pretty well secured. I don't know if you're gonna be able to bounce back from this."
"Bottom of the pile?" the BigGuy said, raising an eyebrow of incredulity. "Capn shit the boat."
"And wouldn't leave his shit," Nuco added.
"Right. You got to leave your shit," Medio agreed. "Okay, second from the bot..."
"...Let's take a look at your recent activities," the BigGuy interrupted, taking the offensive. "You went out last night and gave someone twenty dollars for an illegal substance, correct?"
"We didn't give him anything," Nuco corrected. "We're getting the goods tonight."
"Yeah," Medio agreed. "You'll be changing your tune when we head back to the States with our trip paid for."
"When are you going to complete this illicit drug deal?" the BigGuy asked.
"This afternoon," Nuco said.
"What time this afternoon?"
"He didn't say," Nuco replied. "We're meeting him at the airport this afternoon."
"Hmmm..." the BigGuy said, then pressed on. "And what was this drug salesman's name?"
"Don't know," Nuco replied.
"You don't even know his name?" the BigGuy asked, incredulous.
"He wouldn't tell us," said Nuco, shifting uneasily.
"How many times did you ask him his name?" the BigGuy queried, slipping into the mode that would later make him a tenacious lawyer.
"Twice," Nuco replied.
"Aha!" the BigGuy said, closing the trap. "You gave twenty dollars to a guy who refused to tell you when he would meet you, and twice refused to give you his name." Having just earned his MBA at a local university back home, the BigGuy felt obliged to add, "I smell a bad deal. You should have consulted with me before going ahead with this plan."
"Where were you to consult?" Medio countered. "Lying sick in bed, that's where."
"Let's ask the boatman," the BigGuy suggested, undeterred. He turned to the sixteen year old who had ferried them out to the key. "Señor, what do you think? These two individuals gave twenty dollars to a guy who told them to meet him at the airport at some unspecified time, and refused to tell them his name. This all happened, of course, at the Bucket of Blood. Do you think they will ever see their money or the goods?"
The boatman smiled and shook his head, having lost track of the conversation. His island life was simple, consisting mainly of fishing and finding a mate who wasn't related to himthe latter goal made more difficult by the islanders' general prejudice against people from the mainland, who they still called "Spaniards".
"I think the giveaway puts you two at the bottom," the BigGuy pronounced.
"We're collecting tonight," Nuco said weakly. "Four o'clock, at the airport."
"As I see it," the BigGuy summarized, "this is the classic example of a Third World loan. Good luck, Señores."
Next issue, shakedown at dusk, Hectoring the opposition, and capitulation.
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