"They're checking the evidence, may be some charges pressed."

"Amigo, Senor. Comb weeth us, por favor, eh?…. Senor. Listo. Vamanos."
"What is the problem? Que es el problema, senor?"
The other shadow spoke. "My boss, amigo, hee wants to see yhour whorkeen papers."

"There's wind in our hair and water in our shoes; it's been a lovely cruise."

I woke up eighteen hours later in a boat rolling at anchor. My Boat. I was mildly surprised.

As I turned toward the dock, a small wave rolled casually, indifferently, into the boat. We looked at our now-wet shoes, looked at each other, and pretended it didn't matter.

Our arrival in Cabo San Lucas found us standing unsteadily on the small wood dinghy dock, qyroscopically rolling and pitching with the waves and current and tidal surge. We were windblown, unwashed, unnerved and unraveled.

"I know you got someone back home. So do I it's tough alone. Awh come on, it's just a minor crime."

I looked into those inquisitive eyes and challenging mouth and recognized a formidable bundle of fun sitting across from me. Form and deployment were a complete unknown, but adventure was certain. She eased a subtle, unsaid invitation over to my side of the table, smiling, watching me absorb the energy.

"Wastin' away again in Margaritaville."

Days inched into weeks crawling into months. … Cash flow evaporated into a fine mist vaporizing under the Mexican sun, and each encounter with Jorge was the same tired story that permiso would be coming soon - that God damned word "soon". I learned to hate that word each time it was spoken by a Mexican. I went to the beach all day every day, day after day.

Slithering from the bed into the dinette, I sat looking through the screen door at the water. Warm, thick breezes staggered irregularly through the door as if overcome by their own weight. I felt as if I could spoon the air from a bowl. Breathing was more swallowing than inhalation.

"Tryin' to reason with hurricane season."

I was prepared to spend the balance of my life savings, tonight, here at the bar.

"Just because I'm lonely doesn't mean it gets me down."

Roberto and I found Carmelita at the back of the outpost and she clunked two fresh beers onto the chipped tile. We looked across tables and chairs, through smoke swirling from our lunch on the grill, and observed our two customers ankle-deep in the protected, warm, calm water.
"What do you think?" Roberto casually remarked.
"About what?"
"About thee ladies?"
"What about the ladies?"
"I think Susan likes you a little bit."
"Really? Well, may be I did notice something in her smile."
"I think so." He savored a long swallow of his Dos Equis. "You might want to go dancing with her later. It's been a long time for you."
"You keeping my calendar?" His answer was another gulp of his beer. I looked back toward our customers. "We'll see. Let's see how the fish is doing."

"..My wild days are through; and nothing replaces, me next to you."

"I'll have a bottle of wine and an electric blanket waiting. Chilly nights here in the mountains, you know."
"Hummmm, I know. I'll be there. I miss you."
"I miss you too, Dah-beed. What will you do when you get back?"
I heard in her voice that she really did miss me. "I don't know. I don't care. Something ordinary. Something predictable."
"Sure Dahbeed, whatever. Call me when you get someplace where they speak English and give me an update on your ETA, OK? I'm looking forward to your arrival."
"I'm anxious to be there, you know that. See you soon. Gotta go."
"Bye. Drive that vehicle of your as carefully as possible."

"Hell, I just want to live happily ever-after, every now and then."

We nibbled on fruit and sharp cheddar and extra sour French bread and each other, uncorked another bottle of wine, and carried into to her bed. We touched and loved, and fell in love again and softly talked of sailboats, palm trees, ski resorts, cheeseburgers in paradise, of love and trust and dreams.