The Myrtle Beach rally was over now and it was time to continue the northward journey. For the few days since rally’s end I’d been relaxing into this touresty beach town. Before leaving, however, it seemed a good idea to address the problem of my failing cell phone.
I walked into the Verizon place.
A tech there actually replaced the old view-screen with a used one. It worked. Meanwhile, the young receptionist babbled on about a new plan she was selling. I wasn’t buying. In a moment she looked left then right, assumed a sly smile, moved her face closer and in a low tone said, “You know, I also sell timeshares. Would you like to attend a presentation? They’ll pay you $100 cash.”
She was cute. “Don’t think so,” I smiled, “I’ve been to a few of those things and they’ve never given up what they promised. Always got some chicken-shit way out. Besides, hard-sell salespeople always piss me off. I tell ’em ’bout it too. Last girl suckered me into one of those things…well…they fired her right there. No lie.”
“This is different,” she persisted, “There’s no hard sell, and I promise they’ll write you a check on the spot. Here’s my card. Call me if they screw you and I’ll pay it myself. Promise. Anyway, you know where I work. What do you say?”
“What do I gotta do? How long will it take?”
“Just listen to a presentation, then take a tour of the display units. Hour and a half, tops.”
I did the math. A hundred bucks to keep my mouth shut for an hour and a half. I’d tackled harder jobs than this. “When?” I said.
“I can get you in today at 1:00pm if you like. That alright?”
“Sign me up. But remember what I said about the last girl.”
“It’ll be fine,” she smiled, “Here’s the address,” she held out a piece of paper.
It was 1:00 when, dressed in my best tee-shirt, I walked into the timeshares building. After taking my name the receptionist said to wait a few minutes then motioned to a table covered with coffee pot, danish, brownies, muffins, apples, bananas, etc.
Before long a rep came to very cordially escort me and five couples to a room next door. At one wall hung a white, pull-down projector screen that sat before a handful of small round tables positioned near, but not beside, each other. Each had four seats. With coffee in one hand and muffin in the other, I took the far table to myself while the others found their own. Once settled we all faced the attractive, middle-aged blond who stood with pointer in one hand and remote, projector-clicker in the other. The projector came to life. The show began: “I’m so glad that all of you could make it today. My name is…blah…blah…blah…” She then shook. And she danced. She was a comedian—and we laughed. She talked of good times and family—we felt. She stressed the importance of finance and investment (especially in her company) to the welfare of our children and our future—the room became serious. She jiggled some more.
Coffee mug in hand, muffin crumbs running down my shirt, I sat in awe of this poor, underrated woman. What a performance, I thought, Such extraordinary theatrical talent. Timeshares. What a waist. This girl should be in Hollywood!
On the final note real tears streaked pink cheeks as she brought light to all the wonderful things timeshares had allowed her to do for her mother. Phenomenal! The perfect snow-job! I almost stood for the well-earned ovation, but fortunately caught myself in time. Truly, I’d enjoyed the show.
But it was over now and we filed out. I was soon introduced to the young man who would drive me to the timeshare “display models”. With the usual “friendly act” so common to salespeople, he escorted me to his little car. Once inside I looked him in the eye and said, “Look man, I know you probably work for commission and I’m really sorry you got me. I’m probably the last person on earth who’ll ever buy a timeshare. Hell, I don’t even have a house. So, since you’re working for free now why don’t you just give me the basic ‘quick tour’ and we can both be on our way.”
He saw I was serious. “You sure?”
“Beyond doubt.”
We buzzed quickly out to look at the high-class, high-dollar, apartments while he talked only of fishing and his girlfriend. Not once were timeshares mentioned.
Back at the office—just as the cell girl had promised—they wrote a $100 check redeemable at a nearby bank. Then, as a bonus, I was given a coupon for one of the gambling ships that disembarked from a harbor some 25-miles north. It said that I would receive $40 in chips for a $20 cash investment. What a deal. The ship would leave at 5pm, spend 4-hours on the water, then return to the same dock. For gambling, you see, is only legal in this state at 3 or more miles offshore. The note promised that no other money would be necessary and that the ship-line would include a complementary buffet. Free dinner and a boat ride.
I love ships. I’ve ridden aboard many; although this would be the first time my bike had not accompanied in the cargo hold below. Oh well, it would only be four hours. The decision was made.
To the harbor I went.
Although the mid-sized ship was not as rundown as some of the rust-buckets I’d boarded in Third World Countries, it was certainly not in showroom condition. And so we were shuffled aboard. After climbing the stairs to pass three gambling decks filled with slot machines (no photos allowed), I reached the top which opened into a large and window lined room. The forward section offered a bar that catered to the many tables and chairs sitting before it. Beyond these, glass doors opened onto a large, outside deck filled with more tables and chairs. At one of these I sat to face aft.
The ship was soon underway. For some time we traveled down a channel and I watched beautiful forests pass on either side as huge props churned a foamy wake into the water below. I was certainly getting my money’s worth.
Inside the glass-lined barroom, warmers were soon ignited and the food began to arrive. Before long passengers lined up and I strolled inside to fall in among them. Talk was friendly as we approached the buffet and the food looked pretty good too. Tables were soon filled with munching gamblers and the room broke into idle chatter.
By the time chow-call had ended the ship was some distance out to sea. Just past the three-mile mark all stopped and the gambling decks were opened for business. Everyone quickly hustled below leaving the top deck empty—except for myself of course. I cruised out to the rear deck and regained my former seat. Although the air was warm this day, the sea was a little rough. But no nausea plagued my stomach and the time seemed extraordinarily pleasant. I lit the cigar brought along for just this occasion and relaxed farther into the chair. The sun dropped slowly into hazy clouds then to turn the sky’s edge a fluorescent crimson for quite some time before finally settling into the horizon with breathtaking beauty. A truly amazing sunset. Stars began to show themselves in the clear sky above.
In a while I ambled downstairs to purchase the $40 in chips for a $20 cash investment, then returned to the topside deck.
In time, long-faced gamblers began to shuffle upstairs and I listened to, among other topics, how much they’d lost. Soon we had quite a little party going on.
A loudspeaker announced the closing of gambling decks then stated that chips must be cashed in immediately. I shuffled downstairs, collected the $40, then returned to again sit among my new acquaintances in the bar.
The ship began its return journey. A second buffet was served leaving me thoroughly stuffed by the time we pulled into port. After goodbye handshakes were exchanged with those I’d met, I disembarked to regain the motorcycle that waited patiently in the parking lot.
And so ended the great gambling ship adventure.
Within half an hour I was snuggled into a very private, roadside camp for the night. Looking up through tall trees to the distant stars above, I was moved to recount the day’s events. First the timeshares deal, then the gambling boat ride. Each a fun and interesting event unto itself; and paying me a grand total of $120 all told (minus the cost of one cigar). It had been like getting paid to spend the day at Disneyland. What a trip.
But tomorrow I’d ride into North Carolina to spend time with the guys at Easy Eddy’s motorcycle shop. From there I’d go wherever the road led next.
With that I nodded off to sleep.
Ride long and prosper my friends.
Scooter Tramp Scott.
