The phone rings. “Sir, Mr. Peter is downstairs in the lobby trying to fight some of the other guests.” “I'll be there in a minute.” It's 2am.
Pete looks like a short version of Mr. Clean. Bald, hoop earrings, 33, airplane mechanic and weight lifter. He has 60lbs on me and it's all muscle. He's also a mean drunk.
I roll my naked ass out of bed, throw on shorts, t-shirt and sneakers and head down to the lobby. The hotel is 4 stories tall, and all the rooms open to a large central, open area. Each floor has a balcony that runs all the way around. From my room on the 3rd floor, I look straight down and see Pete. Some other guests are quickly moving away from him, but it seems quiet down there.
Pete sees me come down off the staircase and his first reaction is to get me to go out on the town for more drinks. Looking out the open front door of the hotel, I see a local trike flipped up on its side. The hotel security officer looks at me and says, “I wanted you to see this.” He points to the trike and the very annoyed trike driver.
Pete: “We're going out for a drink or I will punch you in the face.”
M: “It's 2am, Pete. Time to sleep. We're not going out.”
Pete: “I will punch you right in the face. I'm twice your size. You think you can take me? We're going out.”
M: “Nah. Sleep time. Let's head up to your room.”
That gets me a cuff across the jaw. He's drunk enough to hit his boss and his friend.
Pete: “I swear to God. Mano-a-mano. Right now. I'll give you the first swing. I will knock your teeth right out of your God-damn mouth!”
M: “We're not going out, Pete.”
I walk past him and take a seat in one of the lobby chairs. I motion for Pete to take the other seat. Pete remains standing and begins rambling on about how he can have someone killed in this town for “$30” and that one of my other employees had best stop pissing him off.
Pete: “M, I respect you. You're one of the best bosses I've had. But I can have you killed for $30.”
M: “1,000 pesos, Pete.”
Pete: “Yes! Exactly!”
Pete: “Kevin is a good guy, but Kris is pissing me off! He doesn't know it, but I can have him disappear.”
...etc... this goes on for several minutes.
I stand up, “Pete, let's go,” and begin making my way to the stairwell. Pete takes the side door into the reception area. Pete summons out the receptionist and starts demanding a masseuse come up to his room right now to give him a massage.
Owen, the receptionist, looks at me and says, “Sorry, sir, we have no massage available right now.”
M: “Pete, no massage tonight. It's 2am. Everyone is asleep. Up to the room.”
Cue, poorly aimed kick by Pete that impacts my ribcage.
The back and forth continue, with the receptionist behind his check-in desk making the high-pitched laugh of a man who desperately wants the drunk, American-o to like him enough to leave him be. Think “the waiter” in Goodfellas with Joe Pesci. Behind me, I hear the sounds of the trike being righted and departing. At least I don't have to deal with that issue.
M: “Pete. Room. Let's go.”
I walk out, and Pete follows. We make it to the elevator. It's one flight up to his room and I really don't want to be in an enclosed space.
M: “Can you make it up the stairs?”
Pete: “Stairs.”
I had to catch him on the last 2 steps before he tumbled over backwards, but we were now on the right floor. I had a vague idea about which room was his, but not exactly. Thus begins the dance.Pete repeatedly grabs at my shoulder and neck while talking about his desire to fight me.
Pete: “I'll give you the first shot right here! You think you can take me?”
M: “We'll fight in the morning.”
Pete: “Right here! I am going to rip your body right off your neck.” (Classic Line #1)
Pete has been holding and grabbing at me, but mostly without violence. Now, I get flung to the floor. I tuck my shoulder, roll and pop back up on my feet before he can close the distance. I slip past him and head towards the door I think is his.
Pete: “Come back here!”
M: “You're never going to catch me, Pete. You're wearing flip-flops. Bed time. Which room are you in?”
Pete: “228”
I stop at his door and Pete catches up.
M: “Open the door and let's go in and have a seat.”
Pete: “I will kill you and then throw you over the balcony rail. Deal or No Deal?”
M: “Where's the other part of that deal?”
Pete: “What?! You're not understanding what I'm saying. I will kill you and throw you over the balcony rail. Deal or No Deal?”
M: “Pretty certain there's another part to that. Open the door, we'll sit down and discuss.”
Pete: “Fuck.”
Pete puts up his left arm, and begins pushing towards me. I grab his left wrist and use it to control his arm. He has his right arm cocked back to level me, and I keep moving his left arm into his strike path.
Pete:”Stop blocking me with my own fist!” (Classic Line #2)
He pushes me all the way back to the stairwell. Once I'm in a more open spot, I slip past him and quickly stride back to his door. He follows. I stop at his door and point at the lock.
M: “Open it, we'll go in and have a seat.”
Pete:”You have got to be fuckin' kidding me.”
Pete bends over, eye level with the lock and tries to get the old fashioned key in. It takes him several tries. The door finally swings in. Pete goes to grab my arm and I spin out of his grip, opening up a 5 foot gap. I watch Pete's face alter from drunk and confused to dead eyed rage. If he catches me now... I may not be sexy and handsome anymore. Breathing might be a challenge.
As Pete advances, I back-pedal. With sufficient room, I turn and jog around the balcony. Pete comes thundering behind me... in his flip-flops. It's not even like it was close. We make the full circuit and he stops at his door.
Pete:”I'll kill you in the morning.”
M: “Night, Pete.”
He goes in and closes the door to his room.
I walk back downstairs to the front lobby and put my arms up in the 'V' for victory sign. The security guard and receptionist are both noticeably relieved.
Owen:”Sir, he is still calling asking for a massage.”
M:”Don't give him one. If he comes back out of his room, call me.”
Situation Solved. 2:30am.
