Ohhh, Cry Me A River! (and get me a cold one)
It sure is hot today, even by Tampa’s mid-day, asphalt melting standards. Stepping outside is an adventure in deodorant resoluteness; simple human exhalation is enough to push hot stifling air upwards into one’s own face and steam it like a blue crab. The breeze is non-existent, leaving crisp white undershirts everywhere forever changed. Hard to believe but earlier this morning, it was even hotter in my boss’s office. I am now fully convinced that this Multi-Fula account he has me working on is going to be the death of me. Boy was he maaaAaad; his eyes were especially bulgy this time around. My poor fragile sense of self-worth couldn’t stand his barrage of insults, not even for just a while longer.
I step out of the office for an early lunch and leave Downtown Tampa for the time being, not sure if I even have a job to go back to later. Of one thing I am sure however: I am pooped and in desperate need of recharging. I believe a moment of respite is in order. Naturally, I head straight for Rick’s On The River- a true Tampa landmark since da nine-fo’!
Pulling into a parking spot directly out front by the entrance, I pause a moment to take in the lively colored mural on the wall. The image of a rum bottle half-buried in the sand just makes me smile. The large wooden pelican and the warm welcome sign in the shape of a blue and white ship’s anchor that hangs from the rafters above have me struggling to remember my troubles already. The river looks very tranquil from where I stand, and the postcard worthy scene proves most therapeutic for my tired mind and bruised spirit.
I spot some boaters cruising along the river, looking carefree and relaxed, waving and smiling. “Good for them,” I say to myself as I half-heartedly wave back at them...but who am I kidding. My present level of jealousy and envy towards them gleams greener than the luscious canopy of trees on the other side of the river. Thankfully, the picturesque homes hugging the banks of the Hillsborough catch my eye, distract my baseless resentment and again put my soul at ease. I step through the front door but not before shaking my fist at those boaters in a show of shameless covetousness.
A short moment later I plop onto a stool at the bar overlooking the water. The nautical motif surrounding me makes its presence felt and before long I find it drawing out my inner child. There are wooden helms and fake parrots hanging from the exposed underside of the roof that instantly have me dreaming of swashbuckling pirate adventures, complete with village burning, drunken brawling, and plundered booty…oh, and stolen treasure too. I happily snap back to reality when my lovely waitress places an ice-cold bottle of beer in front of me (sigh, ‘hola beautiful’). The beer goes down nice and smooth and after a generous swig, I lay the bottle back on the bar. Immediately that unmistakable warm and fuzzy feeling begins to set in. One basket of wings and fries later, and boy am I in bliss! “Wow,” I think to myself. “I wonder how much longer I could just…sit here. “Hmm, maybe for just a while longer?” I think to myself.
As I snack away on the few remaining tiny morsels left in my basket, I realize that there are plenty of other locals also finding their happy place at this Tampa landmark. A yellow water taxi full of tourists even pulls up to the docks stretching out over the water at the onsite marina. Clearly there is no shortage of people eager to join the lunchtime bash here at Rick’s.
This unexpected scene convinces me that Jose Gaspar, had he been a real person, would definitely have enjoyed tossing back a drink or two or twelve at this esteemed institution, all while basking in the view of the beloved Hillsborough River, the mouth of which he mythically sails into each year to ceremoniously invade our City of Tampa. He might opt to stop by later that same evening and enjoy some live music. Maybe he would be inspired to start his own rock band and play the stage at Rick’s himself. Who knows, they could call themselves The Palmetto Bugs and play killer renditions of big-hair glam-rock classics. And if people don’t applaud after their amazing performance, they could tie everyone up and force them to walk down the dock and plunge into ye River Hillsborough.
Casually turning to my right, I find another fictitious pirate who is at least physically present at Rick’s. He’s a novelty decoration with a confident stance and a smug smirk to match. Behind him, the high rises of Downtown Tampa are the ones adorning the horizon and smiling back at me as they stunningly reflect the bright Tampa sunshine. Suddenly, as I wet nap my fingertips clean, I myself stop to reflect for a moment.
I understand that I probably do still have a job in Downtown later today, where I can continue trying my best not to screw up impossible client accounts. I'll do it despite risking further verbal shellacking and abuse to my eggshell like pride. I realize and accept that life doesn’t stop for anybody, and that if you want to be a part of it, sometimes you just have to weather the storm and hold on, TIIIIIGHT. But then I decide that at least for now, I will prolong this delightful intermission to life’s challenges. Mind you, I WILL go back to the office and pick up what’s left of the Multi-Fula account. I WILL stand up to my demanding boss and show him what’s what and who’s who. Oh yes, I WILL conquer, invade, and plunder!!!…eventually. But for now, I’m gonna order another beer from my lovely waitress, turn back up towards the ceiling above, and continue dreaming of fantastic buccaneer shenanigans while staring at a certain decorative wooden helm…for just a while longer.