In today’s world, calling someone stupid is socially awkward and totally unacceptable. The one saving grace, thank God, we got left in this oh-too-politically-correct world is that you can still call yourself stupid. And to quote a fictional caricature, “Stupid is what stupid does!”
For those of you just tuning in to the often-described off-beat stuff I write about, I’ve contributed a column titled Random Acts of Kindness. In it, I chronicle the kind things people, in a lot of cases outright strangers, have done for me or others in times of need without knowing the impact.
Almost exactly two years ago I wrote an opinion piece about a zany last-minute decision to fly down and tour the low country of Georgia and South Carolina, with a base camp in Savannah. Because of my obsession with a damn book, “Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil,” we all got caught up in a category 4 or 5 hurricane named Ian. No need to rehash the details here, you can read all about it online in “When hurricanes strike, unhoused people seem forgotten” on the Street Sense Media website.
Well, what did Brittany Spears sing, “Oops I did it again?” Earlier this week, on a whim, we hopped on a flight to, of all places, Cancun, Mexico for what we thought was going to be a quick “free” vacation. You would have thought that we’d learned a thing or two, but oh no. My friend put a documented “slow learner” in charge of handling the details which almost assured the possibility of lightning striking twice…….
When we arrived at the Cancun airport, it was deja vu. Except we of course didn’t pay attention to the clues, just like two years ago. I missed things, like there were 10 times as many taxi drivers as potential riders. They had handmade signs and were waving to us and asking if we needed transportation. But ours was arranged by our host, so, acting smug, we waved them off while walking through the gauntlet. Still clueless, I answered my friend’s question as to why things seemed deserted. I looked around at all the open margarita and taco kiosks all over the outside plaza of the airport with no customers and I answered, “Man, it’s just Monday.”
You see, we had a foolproof plan for an almost free vacation — the ole visit a timeshare routine, which I’ve done a few times for a beachfront condo somewhere. But as we got into the resort-provided van, my friend commented on how empty the streets looked again. I said something like it was just the end of the season, and continued not to see things like plenty of taxis just parked on the sides of the roads and almost no pedestrian traffic. And the next series of events is proof positive that, as they say in therapy, “denial” is not just a river in Egypt.
We get in the hotel the place has that strange “Hotel California” kind of feel to it. It’s like every employee is in the lobby and has been waiting for our arrival with uniforms so crisp and sharp they would make the maddest of dictators jealous at their inauguration. And we continued not to pay attention to the numerous red flags the universe was waving. I confessed already to being a slow learner. Now add to that I’m also, at times, a slow thinker. We walked by a group of men wrestling with sheets of plywood in a sitting area before the main bank of elevators without even taking notice. In an irony of all ironies, in my work helping others recover from addictions, I’m always preaching the importance of awareness and how it can save your life. My friends and children quote me word for word on that subject, yet I stumbled on past so many obvious warnings that Stevie Wonder would have sounded the alarm.
Island being boarded up for the hurricane. Photo by Wendell Williams
But the thought of the free vacation had indeed blinded us to the reality right in front of us, as if we’d ventured through some portal of stupidness that didn’t allow us to access any critical thinking skills. My friend had been telling me about this upscale mall across from where she stayed before, where the real rich and famous shops are, you know one of those malls where all I can afford is a couple of scoops of ice cream in the food court and that’s still $10 -15. And then we’d have dinner somewhere nearby, now how traumatizing could that be? But boy it was!
So, we hopped on a local bus for the ride to the Cancun version of Rodeo Drive. All along the main drag, where normally you saw nothing but tourists packed on the sidewalks, there was no one. Again, it’s Monday and my thinking is still distracted by the famous luxury brand names on the walls outside, not noticing the absence of shoppers nor the heavy presence of military-style guards with automatic weapons. I’d learn why later. It was, of course, because of the weather. It was an outside mall, a huge one with some brands I’d never heard of let alone dreamed of owning. I got that $10 ice cream and waited for my friend who walked around what seemed like a twenty-first-century ghost town.
We looked for a place to eat in the mall but nothing seemed inviting, so as we left we became the hottest property around, two people going somewhere and needing a cab. So, we had the driver head back towards the resort and picked out a restaurant, and even that was strange. They all looked closed but they weren’t so we took the scientific approach, eenie meanie minnie moe and went in. We walk in and we’re what seems like the only customers in this beautiful place with breathtaking views. “Table for two please.” Initially, I thought inside in AC, but my friend said let’s sit outside by the water. There, we came face to face with reality for the first time and no amount of denial was powerful enough for us not to understand what was happening.
As we sat, another couple came in, meaning four diners in a place that would hold over two hundred. I was sitting that close to the rising waters. For the first time, I’m going oh shit. All of the past week I’d been worried about my friends living around the Ashville, North Carolina area with the flooding there and the damage to their homes. So, this close-up view started to mean something different. As we got up to leave, we saw the docks disappearing under the beating waves to the point where it was just boats bobbing in open water.
So now there’s a little fete, so we walk to a 7-11-like convenience store to get a few things for the night and a sobering sight met us — contractors with stacks of plywood on dollies starting to board up the windows and doors. We grab another cab sitting amongst many out front and head back for the night. Now I begin to recall what I saw when we checked in that morning but paid no attention to, the resort workmen boarding windows in sitting areas facing the ocean. How could I be so stupid to not ask one question during check-in? Our answer would come around 3 a.m.
Well, we got settled down and tried to watch some TV in Spanish before falling fast asleep. I woke up to relieve myself and, cutting the light on, saw a white piece of paper under the door. I started to read it and went WTF and my mind flashed back to two years ago and my Street Sense story about how this same friend and I just missed being caught up in the destruction of Ian’s path on a similar sojourn. We were just as clueless as we were in Savannah with more experience, explain that. It was deja vu. In my personal living program, we’re always saying how this or that behavior is insane, with the definition of insane being doing the same thing over and over expecting different results. This couldn’t be happening to two sharp intelligent people, again, but it was beginning to seem like it was.
