March 14, 2002
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The dark haired man stood up on the platform in the sand, besides the table where the judges sat, his brown eyes looking at the crowd who were milling around, and waved his right hand to a set of booths some distance away. Behind him was the stairs leading down from the town and in front was the sea.
The booths were already attracting customers and making money. Some girls were selling candyfloss, others were patting out tortillas, and making other Mexican American delicacies, a man was preparing Chinese food in a Wok. One booth had a girl offering to analyze handwriting, another had a woman in a navy blouse over a white skirt and a college kid learning the ropes, and one was being sponsored by a well-known food chain.
"Will all new contestants please register at the booth with the sign 'Registrations?" he asked pointing towards where his sister worked and thought about his wife, Ana's role as Miss Sonara, the beauty contest winner captured by the villain of the movie, a character whose exploits he would have admired, had they not made peace with the Sapiens.
He watched the crowd disperse as the contestants rushed towards the crowd with the woman in the navy blouse and skirt, clamoring in front of her, pushing and shoving, trying to get their name first on the list.
The potential yacht champions had assumed it would be at the table where four judges sat down, their eyes bored with many regattas, and many blonde tanned young men in long trunks and many white haired men in blue blazers hoping to get the coveted cup.
The regatta had started in Alaska, skipping for a time through the Georgia Straits to stop at Vancouver, after flirting to Nanaimo, and Victoria to the amazement of the tourists and the adulations of the press. It made a brief stops at Seattle, Bellevue, and Tacoma, Washington, breezed in at Seaside and Lincoln City, Bandon, and Brookings, Oregon. It made the round of the Northern Coastal California towns, and stayed for three days in San Francisco Bay in order to get supplies. It was open only to those in the North American continent. Next year, Costa Rica would be the first Central American country to join. Then the regatta would start from there, go through the Panama Canal, and then up to Alaska where they hoped to have a salmon steak dinner complete with champagne.
"'¿Buenos diás, señora, dondé es el hotel?' No that's not right." Wyneth pressed his lips together trying to get the correct enunciation of the words. "You'd think they'd have a better phrase like "´¿Buenos diás señora, dondé es—how do you say 'gambling palace' in Spanish?" He pulled the plug from his ear and put the CD back in its case. That forty dollars spent on the program was a waste of money. All he learned was to order breakfast, buy a suit of clothes, purchase train tickets, and call for the doctor if he were ill. Nothing on what he really wanted.
He heard a commotion at the registration booth. This all round athlete type, another man who looked very important, and a man with a movie camera were arguing about something. The college kid came over and put on the "we can't help you act," causing the very important man to explode.
"I am sorry, señor, but we have to go partly along with the ships. As you can see by our script, Señor Alvarez is supposed to fight the villain on his yacht. We can't have it on land."
"I'm sorry, sir, but what if you endangered the voyage, but to mention the other members of the regatta?"
"I'd like to get started shooting," said the photographer who seemed rather anxious.
"In a moment," said All important. He addressed the registrar. "We could shoot on the outer edge of the regatta. That would mean altering the ship a bit. Do we still have those shoots we took out of Eduardo changing the course of the ship?"
"I believe we do," said the photographer, "back in the studio."
All important considered the length of time it would take and gave his most worried look to the Master of the Ceremony's sister who glanced from him to the photographer, before taking out her map, hummed for a moment, and said, "You can film in this area. I hope you know what you're doing."
"Thank you." There was much shaking of hands, promises to offer a discount in the San Pedro video stores, fan photographs of the actors in his role as Eduardo with the potential winners, and the usual advertising gizmos.
Wyneth waited until the movie staff had left and went up to the Registrar. He tried to appear calm and nonchalant, his manner smooth and his smile a bit on the shy side. "How much does it cost to enter?"
"The Fee is two hundred dollars for the entrance fee plus twenty dollars non refundable."
He started thumbing through his wallet, counted out the bills as if it hurt for him to part with it and his fingers stung as she grabbed the money, put it in the metal box, and then sealing it with a cool pleasant voice and a smile that reminded him of Dracula's Daughter, said, "Sign here please."
"So when does the actual race begin?" Wyneth asked while College Kid filled out the necessary forms. He wanted to get in the early morning group.
"It will start on Easter Monday as soon as you reach Los Angeles."
The clerk would not tell him where it would end, but Wyneth did not care. He knew it was a city where Spanish was the major language.
