Florida, Florida, Uber Alles

Key West, Quarantine Zone

Day 37 - In the Ongoing Hot Mess Surrounding Max-A-Millions

You know about entropy? It’s how everything’s always changin’, always fallin’ apart, everything wigglin’ and shakin’—the stars heatin’ up, the oceans churnin’, everything burnin’ and rumblin’ into chaos. Everyone’s gonna lose what’s theirs soon enough. You can’t take it with you, so even the man with the most stuff’ll lose it on the day he dies.

What was Key West losin’? Its damn mind, that’s all.

I grabbed an old paper outside of Lewis’s. Check out this headline. “Outbreak: Officials urge residents to take precautions as patients flow into hospital.” What the fuck does that mean? It means chaos. It means folks are about to lose their shit. That was almost a month ago. If people had been listenin’, we might not be so deep in the shitwater as we are right now.

Me, I listened. I heard sirens blarin’, saw lights flashin’ as police and ambulances raced around town, heard folks standin’ around on the corners screamin’ about the end of the world.

Someone’s always been yellin’ about the end of the world, some apocalypse or somethin’. That’s just noise. Noise. That noise screws up your signals. Most things are just noise, bangin’ and clangin’ all around us, none of it makin’ a difference to anyone. You gotta know how to listen through it. I’m a musician, understand? Some folks hear melodies and music, even swayin’ their hips back ‘n forth. Me, I get into the notes, the spaces between ‘em, even into the soul of the musician. Hear that crosswalk beepin’? For most folks, it means hurry up, you’re about to get squished. For me? G sharp. A bit off tune, too, and the rhythm just ain’t right. I bet you never noticed that. That’s why you’re gettin’ fleeced by the system. Not me. I’ve got my own system.

I talked to some guys passing out water bottles and the worst damn pot pies you ever tasted. I asked ‘em, “How you supposed to know whose got the Bontragers and who don’t?”

This fella tells me, “After about two weeks, their lips start turning purple, and they act all crazy.”

I already knew all that. Purple lips? This dude didn’t have nothin’ else. Act crazy? Man, this is Key West... Florida. We was eatin’ faces before it was even cool. Purple lips? What good is that? What about the Marilyn impersonators? Never mind everybody wearin’ those damn masks, huffin’ and puffin’ everywhere, even though the radio says you don’t get it like that.

Act crazy? They was always actin’ crazy.

This one time, I’m on the south side, workin’ the shiny hotels that offer a bit tougher go for taxi rides, but a better payoff if I can squeeze in and grab a fare or two. At the corner of South and Simonton, I see my first one. I’m not sure if he needs a ride, but he definitely needs somethin’. He’s a special one, runnin’ around with a robe that runs from his long scraggly hair to some sort of ugly sandals on his feet. Just shufflin’ down the road, like he don’t know where to go.

I figure he’s another Fake Jesus, tryin’ to earn his way into Heaven, but really just hidin’ his fears in some shoddy robes. I ain’t heard of nothin’ you can earn that don’t have a price tag.

He waves his hand toward me, and I’m not sure why I go. Maybe it’s for the laughs. He definitely doesn’t look like a big tipper, but everyone’s got something to give.

I pull beside him, my right foot over the accelerator in case this goes where my head tells me it could. “Need a ride, fella?”

“I am the Light of the World.”

Sure enough, a wannabe Jesus. “Is that so? I don’t care if you’re God himself, as long as you can pay the bills.”

“I have come to bring love to this broken land of filth and sin.”

“That’s something I haven’t heard in twenty minutes. But, Mr. Messiah, pay my fare and I’ll get you where you goin’. Might even get you to Miami, if you got the dime.”

The man pulled a wad of cash from inside his robe. “I need to find the people. I need you to be my guide in this place.”

“The Keys have got all kinds of people.”

“Show me the ones who need saving.”

Well didn’t that just narrow it down. I told him, “We got all sorts’a sinners. We got crazy sinners, righteous sinners, regular sinners, some downright scary sinners. Do you wanna pick from the seven deadlies, or would you rather work with the Big Ten? Maybe start in the middle somewhere?”

“I have been given a vision to share.”

“Then just tell me where to share it and I’ll get you there.”

“My vision is for the entire world.”

“How’s about I drop you off at St. Mary’s. There’s a bunch of folks just like you gathered around the old statue, tryin’ to sort out what’s good and what’s Godly.”

“My body is real food. You understand? My body is real food.”

“Everybody’s real food if the people around ‘em get hungry enough.”

I dropped him off at the doorstep to the Grotto, and he plucked a pair of twenties and set them in the seat beside me. When he stepped out of the car, a few folks gave him a once-over. They might have gone to St. Mary’s to meet Jesus, but the looks on their faces said they didn’t figure it was gonna be face to face.

I stuffed his “blessing” into my shirt pocket and got scarce. I was already thinkin’ of the low spot in the bathtub that could use a few new bills.

You want to know why I didn’t check out his memory, or maybe squint too hard at his face? Why I put all those nice church people in danger? Because this was three damn years ago! That’s why—same craziness, different time—and his pasty lips weren’t no more purple than mine. I think he believed it as much as I did, but at least he had a system.

I can’t say the same for the officials. We should have kicked this thing faster than the sniffles. Florida’s been getting; ready for people actin; like this for years. Makes me wonder how we messed this up so bad. I mean boats and planes all over, people g’tting' crazy with each other. Some fool even tried to jack my car...twice. The limp from the first time slowed him down enough that the second time was even easier. Stupid. Stupid.

Bontragers. Shit. We didn’t just screw the pooch. We took the damn thing into a roadside motel and started tappin/ it., just wearin’ it out. Don’t believe me?

Fast forward to this afternoon. Drivin’ around some of the neighborhoods where they blockin’ the street, sometimes I find a fare. Two turns and I see my first possible mark. Meek little fella, at the bus stop, mask on his face, actually sittin’ on the bench at a bus stop. The world’s fallin’ down around us, and this guy’s plan is to wait for the 4 o’clock.

“Need a lift?” I asked him. I left the car in drive, though—gotta be ready to go when it turns south.

“I need to get home,” he says. “Can you get me off this island?”

“I can do a lot of things for a lot of people. Why would you be any different?”

“I’ve got a wife and kids in D.C. I just flew down for a little R&R.”

“Skirt chasin’, huh? Got caught in a bad place with your pants down? Need to smear an alibi over that shame and guilt? They ain’t heard from you in days?”

“They don’t know where I am. They don’t even know if I’m alive.”

“That’s a lotta baggage to carry. I’m not sure I got enough room in the back. May have to charge extra.”

“Fuck you, man.”

“There’s not many folks wanderin’ outside these days, but you should be safe until the sun sets. Just lean a bit closer to that pole until the bus comes.”

The man sank closer to the wall, checkin’ the street for someone else. I wonder if he was lookin’ for another savior or another devil.

“I’ll give you what I have.” He fumbled through his wallet. “Take my credit cards. They’ve got a $10K limit. Use all of it. I can say my cards were lost in the evacuation.”

“I’m not a damn ATM. This city is about cash now—cash or trade. Your credit cards’ll just be cancelled when you walk into the airport. Probably say I’m the fool who stole them. I’m not gonna catch a theft case in this town.”

He took a second tour through his wallet. “I’ve got $200.”

“See, now you’re makin’ some decisions. That’ll get you where you’re goin’.”

“I’m not burning through all my cash before I get home. Right now, I just need to get to Miami.”

“Maybe you’ll find a more accommodatin’ and credit-friendly conveyance there.”

“Fuck you, man!”

“Well, time’s money.” I let my foot off the brake and rolled away.

He caught up to me before I’d gone ten feet. “Fine, I’ll pay. Just get me to the airport.”

So did I take him to the airport?

Hell no, I didn’t take him to no airport! Airport’s empty. Some dude on top of the control tower shoots if you get close. This guy? I took him straight to the hospital, and got his wallet out while some of those hospital boys were musclin’ him. Now, I wouldn’t ever charge no two bills to just take some somebody over to Memorial, but if they got the Bontragers, the scale changes. Two bills starts to sound about right. I left him the rest, even tucked his wallet back into his pants.

How did I know?

I didn’t need to take off his mask and peek a look. That’s just how it goes. They start talkin’, thinkin’ it’s 1985 and Reagan’s president, or you’re in Memphis and they want to get some sticky ribs.

Everybody wants to start screamin’, just makin’ things worse. Me, I play along. Hell yesI want some ribs. I know just the place. Your dead momma is visitin’? Let’s get you two together. Nah, I ain’t takin’ you someplace where a bunch of corn-feds and a Mexican dude who think he Jacki Chan are gonna start wuppin’ your ass. I’m takin’ you to Momma. Sniff, sniff. You smell that? She’s got biscuits in the oven. Let’s go.

He was the fourth Bontrager dude I took over there. I’m providin’ a community service—long as the body has the cash.

A lot of people talk about greed like it’s a bad thing. That Gecko guy, the one from the movie? Slick dude with the fancy suit and the high rise office? The one folks love to quote as sayin’, “Greed is good.” It ain’t greed that’s good. It’s avarice. Cunning avarice, I say. Smart, witty, bendin’ the rules while you’re makin’ ‘em, and then workin’ to get what you deserve. It’s about effort and focus, man—keepin’ your eye on the ball. Wrap a cover on that and sell it at the self-help section of the bookstore.

Most things you depend on have a shelf life, even the services you think will be there to save your ass. Ambulances stop running when the gas runs out, or when the drivers head for the hills. Same thing for the fire trucks. Even the cops’ll be walkin’ a beat soon. Not me. I’m a staple, the constant force in the universe. All the other rides may be done....

Not Max. Max’ll get you where you goin’, even if you sick. I’ve never been this busy. And all this without a computer.

If it keeps up, I’m about to need a second bath tub.