About Me
- Name: Scott
- Location: Redmond, Washington, U.S. Inc. (Formerly U.S.A.)
January 1990
January 1999
March 2006
March 2007
July 2009
February 2011
The Thai Getaway (Jan 2004)
A Hotel room in Thailand. There is a bed with dressers. On one of the dressers is a grease spotted paper bag. There is a door leading to the bathroom. At the foot of the bed there is a cooler.
Bruce, a 32 year old Navy pilot is sitting on the end of the bed tying his shoes. He retrieves a clear plastic bag from the bottom dresser drawer, and puts the paper bag inside.
As he is lifting the top off the cooler, his 31 year old wife, Sally, comes in from the bathroom wrapped in a dark blue beach towel, her blonde hair wrapped in a smaller towel of the same color.
Oh, my God. What are you doing with that?
I thought I should put it in the cooler.
Sally backs away looking him in the eyes.
But… That’s awful!
Bruce gently places the bag in the cooler and crosses to give Sally a comforting hug.
I know. Darling, it is still cool in here, but by this afternoon it’ll awfully warm.
I don’t understand. Putting it in the cooler is… Well, it’s horrible.
It will be worse if that dog goes bad in the heat.
But our food is in there! I can’t…
Sally dashes back into the bathroom, checking that the curtain is fully closed.
I don’t know what to do with it! We sure can’t sit in this room looking at it for another day.
I’m mourning! Why can’t you understand how I feel?
I am really trying.
I killed it!
It was a simple misunderstanding.
Simple! The poor thing is dead.
It’s only a dog.
Is that supposed to make me feel better?
I guess not. We probably couldn’t have taken it home anyway.
So what? Anyway, we can’t now, can we? You should have said something?
I didn’t know.
I should have taken him right then.
Stop punishing yourself!
Well, it explains why they looked so surprised at American tourists wanting to buy a puppy.
I have been here before, but I didn’t think they ate dog meat. Now, if I didn’t see it coming, how could you?
You must have known. You started laughing. You were just waiting for me to find out. You didn’t want a puppy, just a good punch line.
I wasn’t excited about getting a puppy, but you can’t honestly think I was playing a joke on you.
Oh? And why can’t I?
I felt bad. I still do. Still, it was bizarre in a dark way. He said, "I clean him up real nice for you my good friends. Then you take home, no problems." I wasn’t thinking groceries.
Sally comes back in, leaving the curtains to the bathroom open. She is now dressed.
It is not remotely funny. I don’t believe how callous you are.
For God’s sake Sally! It was a dog! You saw it for less than half a minute.
What difference does that make? I adored him the moment I saw him.
The special bond again. So, was it a boy or girl puppy?
What?!
You were so taken with the puppy. At the very least you must to know if it was a boy or girl.
This is creepy. I played with him for a second. Scratched its’ ears. I didn’t lift up its’ tail to take an inventory.
It’s creepy to get this hysterical over a puppy. You can’t soak in martyrdom over this.
Bastard! Can’t you just let me alone? I need to deal in my own way.
For how long?
Until I’m finished.
It’s not as though a person died. Come on, let’s enjoy the rest of our vacation. You could use the distraction.
Just like that? One of God’s creatures is killed for no good reason, and you want to have a good time.
I’m not asking you to make love on it’s grave.
Well, what if it was one of your friends?
[Introspective.] It would be more important to enjoy life.
You care so little for your friends?
Do you know how many friends I have lost the last ten years? Ten? Fifteen? Probably more.
Is that why you’re uncaring about animals?
What is wrong with perspective?
What has perspective to do with compassion?
Well then. Where is your compassion when my friends die?
What are you talking about? I’m there for you.
Right. Take last year. Remember, when Bobby died in his F-14?
Yeah. I don’t…
I read the mishap report. It’s how I found out. What a god awful name for a crash. A mishap. Those reports are absolutely precise and clinical. You couldn’t imagine a colder or more detached notification.
Why are you telling me this now? Does it help?
No.
Bruce loses his composure a moment, and is silent. Then continues.
It gave me a brutally clear picture of what happened. His airplane dribbling over the front of the aircraft carrier when the catapult failed. The boat couldn’t even begin to slow down until long after it had sent Bobby and his bird to the bottom. The picture is in my head right now, along with the terror he felt. And his raging against the inability to do a goddamn thing. It will happen again. I know it could be another friend or anyone at any moment. Every time we don our flight suits. Do you remember what you did when I tried to tell you how I felt about it?
That is different! I never met Bobby. I didn’t know him, I don’t remember you talking about him before or since.
It’s the same, no it’s more. We called him Pickles in flight school. You and I had dinner with him and Rachel. You remember her.
I remember Pickles. How was I to know it was Bobby?
You could have shown some interest. I wanted to talk, but I needed someone to listen. Instead, you said, "Oh, didn’t you know him? Be a dear, run out and pick up some more milk for the stroganoff." I stopped bothering you after that.
Why? I cared. I’d have helped if I thought you needed it.
How was I to know? I did ask.
And guys whine about us being obtuse. So, what do you want? I can’t read your mind. If you wanted consolation you should have said so.
A friend dies and I tell you about it. It seems more profound than a dog dying.
This is different. We both saw the puppy. We were there when we found out. It’s something we went through together.
Christ. Tragedy as a family activity?
Of course not. I’m just saying it is a tragedy we shared.
A dog we didn’t know? It didn’t have a name. Bobby…
You didn’t make it clear…
Tell me, what part of "Bobby died. He was my best friend for three years." What part, was not clear to you? Would it have been clearer if it was one of your best friends from college?
Right now, we are talking about the puppy. There’s your stuff, but I can’t deal with everything this second. This was a surprise, a total shock, right out of the blue.
This was a surprise? How about…
Stop it! I have made it clear I am upset right now. It is not fair to bring up old baggage!
In exasperation, Bruce jerks the lid off the cooler, and pulls out the paper bag. He runs around holding it up like a toy, and speaking in a high pitched dog voice.
Woof, woof. I am the deified doggie. Yip, yip, bark, bark, bark! [Back to a lower pitched voice.] I am the dinner that wasn’t!
Sally slaps his face, ending the tirade.
Shut up! You really are a vicious bastard, aren’t you?
Can’t you see the absurdity…
I don’t believe what you just did. That was the one of the most horrid things I have ever seen. Ever! I don’t think I want to see you again. Ever.
You listened.
What is that supposed to mean?
Let me say my piece? Then, I’ll leave if it’s what you want.
It’s what I want.
Will you listen anyway?
I don’t suppose I have a choice.
Yes, you do. You have a choice.
Well, go ahead.
[Quietly.] No.
Bruce starts to pack his bag.
No abdicating, I won’t decide for you this time. I won’t say another word unless you tell me you want to hear it.
[Still non-committal.] Okay, I want to listen.
[Pause, then with sincerity.] I do want to hear.
Sally collapses into a chair. Bruce continues packing while he is talking. At some point, she becomes truly interested in what he is saying.
You know, I tried to comfort you as best I could. You wouldn’t have it. It made me feel silly. I honestly had trouble believing you could be so upset about a strange puppy. It made me feel twice as stupid and awkward. It never seems to affect you when people we know get killed in the line of duty. It doesn’t make sense. Is it because you don’t know them? Or maybe, you try to comfort me, and I don’t see it. Wouldn’t that be perfect?
[Short pause, holding up hand.]
I go out with friends from work to deal with the pain and loss. We laugh. Funny stories and jokes … let us talk about it. We remember and honor our friends that way. We don’t talk about the pain, where’s the point in it? We can see it in each other’s eyes. The stories, jokes, and macabre humor, those are how we cope. It lets us grow. Believe me, seeing your friends die, doesn’t make you jaded. Each time a buddy dies it’s more personal and painful than the last one.
Then why do you keep doing it?
It’s my job.
No. Tell me the real reason you do it? I deserve that.
I have to.
It kills me. I have to know why.
I may not have the words.
I am scared to death every time you go to work early, or late, or in your flight suit. When you are on cruise it’s torture. I feel a thrill of dread every time the phone rings, every time a car pulls into the driveway, every time a friend from the squadron knocks on the door, every time I get the goddamn mail. It’s exhausting. When you finally come back home, all I want to do is cry and sleep for a week, but I don’t. I need to be strong for you. When have you thanked me for that.
I had no idea, I’m sorry…
Oh Christ, and I thought you were in denial. I thought you had to be to survive, you know, to focus on your job. That’s why I don’t try to comfort you. I’m terrified I’ll erode those walls you built to feel sane. I thought the walls gave you the isolated focus you had to have, to be safe in the air. I didn’t dare do anything to blur that focus. Now I find out there aren’t walls, your cool reticence is something entirely different. Why? If every death bothers you more than the last, why not get out now? While you are still alive. Explain it to me.
Why? I thought you understood. I love flying military aircraft, especially in the Navy where you’re forward deployed. In the way of danger and all that I suppose. Even our training missions are more aggressive. It’s that danger which makes it exciting. In the back of your mind you know every second in the air is a risk. They aren’t tame commercial planes built for safety. That ever present danger and risk makes me feel so … alive. Joyous even. We are all perverse. We learn to respect checklists and emergency procedures more with every tragedy that touches us. There is one thing we will never say to each other; each one of those tragedies also makes our jobs more exciting.
It would make me more scared. I can’t comprehend how you cope with the losses, much less without weeping.
We have to deal with it. We can’t live in that denial you mentioned. It’d make us crazy. Weeping doesn’t tie up loose ends. In my heart it feels self-indulgent. It’s not the way to honor dead friends. Humor allows, oh Hell it forces me to face the reality head on, and move forward.
Laughter seems too light, too trivial.
I know. Losing friends wasn’t always a regular part of my professional life. Right now, it is.
I don’t know if I can share that.
I never asked you to.
No you didn’t. That’s the problem. How can I comfort you when I don’t know what drives or saddens you. I didn’t even know you mourned until now.
Aren’t we a pair. I didn’t want to foist my pain on someone I thought was uninterested or unwilling to face the risk.
You make a lot of assumptions.
[Smiling.] Seems I’m not the only one.
What is that supposed to mean?
[Deflated.] Nothing. I won’t assume this time then.
Now you are being cryptic.
I apologize. I was gathering my thoughts. I am going to check the airlines and get a meal downstairs. Then I’ll leave. I am telling you because I don’t want to simply assume you want me to leave. I want to stay. But only if you want me too. I suppose those are my terms. What do you say?
They look at each other in silence.
That’s what I thought. Sally, I really …
Bruce stops, closes his suitcase, puts it on the bed, with his passport. Then he pockets his passport and leaves the room. A moment later but too late for him to hear.
Wait! … Shit. Son of a Bitch!
Sally picks up the phone.
Hello, room service please.
Yes, can you send up a large bucket of ice?
Thank you.
Sally goes to the cooler, removes the paper bag, puts it by the door, turns and looks at the suitcase. Then she starts to carefully unpack the suitcase. Fade To Black
- posted by Scott @ 1:00 AM 0 comments
