Drop It

Six of them walked into the hotel bar and ordered double bourbons. They had already lost their situational awareness and laughed loudly at their own crude comments directed toward the bartender. She laughed along and defused the tension in a way that suggested hard-won poise in handling drunkards.

“George bought a boat today boys,” one of them shouted and they clinked glasses. “Nothin’ gets you off like droppin’ a million.”

They were from Alabama and they run 100 miles out to fish the Gulf and they came to Miami and George found the boat to do that.

A cold front brought in rain and everyone migrated from the boat show to the bars. The chill also shut down the tarpon running the bay and the beaches at night, and that reason to escape from the hotel.

Some of the people inside hid scars earned in the recession and saluted George for his free spending.

Places in Florida bear the scars more openly, from the boarded up apartments behind the hotel to the construction projects way out west that only recently resumed.

The peacock bass that live out west have recovered from the chill that did them in back in 2010.

The fly moved along the drop-off and two little fish fell in behind it. One outpaced the other and charged the fly and dropped it. A big one swerved in and grabbed it and felt the tension and jumped. The fly fell back to the water and another one hit and held fast.

No doubt the result turned out differently than expected.


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