by Marty Coleman | Mar 16, 2015 | Illustrated Short Stories, Travel |
Chapter One
She was sitting across from the man, staring out at the planes landing and taking off. He observed her in between checking his email, an intriguing diversion from the drudgery of catching up with a week’s worth of business.
She was sunburnt head to toe, glowing a deep orange/red. Her hair swept back from her forehead in cornrows to an arc as if she had a headband on, but she didn’t. From there her hair fell in tight, sharp waves to her shoulders. Her top plunged low, revealing a long expanse of skin, mottled and pealing. It had that rich deep tone that said she’d spent many a day in the sun. There was the faintest view of a tanline at the edge of the blouse, but even that area was dark, as if she had taken her straps down every time she had laid out to sun.
She had on a colorful print top, bright blue jeans rolled up halfway up her calves. Her calves were well defined and she had on a new pair of running shoes. She sat upright but not stiff, holding her purse as it nestled on top of a woven basket bag that she had obviously bought while in Mexico.
Chapter Two
She caught him looking at her at one point. She smiled and said, “You look trustworthy. Would you mind watching my stuff while I go to the bathroom?”
He responded with a smile and a nod, saying, “Actually, I am an international thief. But you are lucky, my forte isn’t stealing suitcases in airports so you are safe. I will watch your stuff.”
She took her purse and went off. He did his best to not go back to looking at his phone, wanting to actually pay attention, just in case someone did try to steal her suitcase and bag. Instead he looked around at all the tourists. He noticed a lot of bright clashing colors on a gaggle of middle aged women gathered around the tequila bar. He enjoyed seeing the the young man, a perfect specimen of male studliness, except for the sock tan line mid way up his calves. He was deeply tanned above, and white as a sheet below. A young woman walked up to the stud and kissed him on the lips, then handed him a Starbucks cup. She was wearing shorts and a bikini top. He couldn’t help but wonder if she would be cold on her flight home. He hoped she had a sweater.
The sunburnt woman came back and handed him a water. She said, “Thanks, I figured you might be thirsty from the hard work of watching my bags so I got you a water.”
He said, “Thanks, I am thirsty so it’s perfect timing.”
He introduced himself as Paul, she laughed and introduced herself as Paulina. He said, “Really, No joke?”
She said, “Yep, really named Paulina. Named after my Grandmother who came from Slovakia.”
Chapter Three
Paul and Paulina started talking about the usual things; where they stayed in Puerto Vallarta, how long they had been there, what they had done while they were in town, where they lived back home.
She had come to Puerto Vallarta alone, had spent 8 days at a small boutique hotel on the beach north of the city, and now was headed home. Her home was in Minnesota where it was currently -7º. She was not happy about returning but she was happy she had missed a week where the temperatures had been even worse. Her mom had told her in a Skype call that it hadn’t got about above -10º for 3 days in a row. They had 25″ of snow in the past 2 weeks that had really started to affect the salon’s business she said.
He meanwhile told her about his trip. He had actually not been on a vacation per se. He was down in Mexico looking for a vacation home. He had spent 5 days looking at villas north of Puerto Vallarta near the small town of Sayulita. Turns out she had actually visited Sayulita during her stay, going with another woman she had met at the hotel on a day trip. Mostly they had shopped but they also got massages on the beach. It was one of the highlights of her trip she said.
He asked, “The massage was that good?”
She said, “No, it wasn’t good at all actually. The masseuse was fine but my friend, who I just met the day before, turned out to be a moaner while getting her massage. She was laying right next to me and I was afraid she was going to have some sort of Mexico beach massage orgasm right then and there. It freaked me out so much I couldn’t relax at all. But it was also so funny I couldn’t forget it. I told my mom about it when we Skyped the next day and we laughed so hard we cried.”
He cracked up saying, “That would do the same thing to me. I would probably have told her to shut up!”
She said, “Part of me wanted to, but part of me felt like it was her massage and if she wanted to moan, who’s business was it of mine to tell her not to, right? Plus I barely knew her!”
She told him she had loved the little town though it did seem a bit overrun with tourists the day she was there. He agreed saying he liked being close to it, but not too close. He had found a house just north of Sayulita, on the way to the even smaller town of San Francisco, where there were fewer tourists. He had bought the house and was now returning home. His home was Chicago, where he owned his own business doing IT consulting for mid-sized companies wanting to expand their capabilities.
Chapter Four
Right then the flight was called to be boarded. They both got up and realized they were on the same flight to Chicago, where she would transfer to another flight to Minneapolis. They finagled a change in seats with the stud couple and sat next to each other. By the time they landed Paul had pretty much decided she was the one. She had decided he was as well. A week later he drove to Minneapolis to visit her. She came to Chicago 2 weeks after that. Within 2 months she had moved to Chicago, gotten a job a PR firm and they were a couple. A year later they had a destination wedding in Sayulita with 5 members of her family and 5 of his in attendance.
They lived at their villa in Sayulita for a month every winter, even after they started to have kids. They had 3 and they all learned Spanish fluently. He eventually sold his business, making a killing and bought a larger villa, big enough for both their families to visit at the same time. The moved to Mexico for good and she did PR consulting for hotels in the area. He became a stay at home dad and started a bilingual blog that became a world wide hit in the mommy and daddy blogosphere.
The End
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by Marty Coleman | Mar 13, 2015 | Travel Napkins |
Drawing Becky
I had to take my wife to work this morning and took the early morning opportunity to go to Starbucks on the way home and just hang out a while. I drew one of the Barista’s doing her job. She was pretty busy and seemed surprised and somewhat uncomprehending when I first showed it to her. I gave her my card and told her I would be posting it later in the day, after I colored it.
Most people I draw actually never come to the blog to see the drawing and they never contact me to get a copy. I always think that is odd, knowing that if someone drew me I would be all about seeing the final result later. Some do contact me though and it’s always a pleasure to make a new friend in that way.
Here it is in the Starbucks, uncolored. Becky had already moved on to another spot behind the counter but I wanted to get the pic anyway just to remember some colors.
Drawing © 2026 by Marty Coleman
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by Marty Coleman | Mar 11, 2015 | Labels - 2015, Toni Morrison |
Defining Oklahoma
As many of the Napkin Kin know, I live in Oklahoma. The state of Oklahoma has been in the US national news, and even the international news, in recent weeks due to the legislature passing or attempting to pass some pretty bizarre laws. To use just two examples; they have wanted to do away with AP history classes because they show too much of what has been ‘bad’ in America. Just yesterday the State House of Representatives voted to do away with granting marriage licenses because it might make some court clerks go against their religious beliefs to give a license to a gay or lesbian couple.
And of course unless you have been living under a rock you have also heard about the SAE Fraternity at OU being video taped singing a racist chant on a party bus that included the N word and a reference to lynching.
Pointing the Finger
What do these all have in common? They all show someone (a state or a fraternity, it doesn’t matter) pointing the finger at another group and defining them negatively. The people making and defending the AP curriculum are defined as ‘Unamerican’. The lesbian and gay couples wanting to marry are defined as perverted and sinful. In the chant the African-Americans at University Oklahoma are defined as ‘undesirable’ (a euphemism for sure) as pledges to the SAE fraternity, which is bad enough. But even more despicable, they are also defined as less than human, worthy of lynching simply for being black. If one was attempting to be funny you could also see them pointing the finger one row back and saying, ‘It’s all Obama’s fault!’
All three of these ‘definitions’ can potentially hurt the person being defined. This is especially true when the finger is pointed at young people who may have not yet found their own identity. Without their identity being strong, they can be led to believe the definition is true. You see it happen all the time, a woman believing she is worthless because her abusive husband says so. A young African American believing they can’t achieve something because they have been told they aren’t smart enough or strong willed enough, to make it happen. A young progressive citizen being told that they are Unamerican because they dare to question the perfect US of A.
But the definitions do something more. They hurt the definer as well. Those SAE Frat boys are missing out by never truly knowing any African Americans. The conservative county clerk is hurt by not seeing the love, care and competence with which the lesbian or gay couple are raising their kids. The conservative misses an opportunity to see how others have been affected by the history of the US in ways he and his forebearers may not have been.
Giving the Finger
If and when this sort of thing happens to you or someone you care about, tell them to do this. Give the offending party the finger. I don’t actually mean flip them the bird. I mean, take whatever finger is pointing at you and bend it back to point at the pointer. That is where the definition belongs, with the one doing the defining, not with you.
This drawing, as well as others, are available for purchase, original or print. Please email marty@napkindad.com to inquire.
Drawing and commentary by Marty Coleman
Quote by Toni Morrison, 1931- not dead yet, American author and poet
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by Marty Coleman | Mar 9, 2015 | Labels - 2015, Soren Kierkegaard |
The Good Judgment
The world is full of judgment. Some of it is necessary. It’s important for us to judge risk, for example. When I went bodysurfing on vacation a few weeks back I loved it. I was raised on the beach bodysurfing and I was in my element. But I hadn’t done it in a long time and I took a few waves I shouldn’t have. My judgment wasn’t on target. As a result the waves slammed me into the sand hard enough to scrap my elbow to the bleeding point, much like a really bad rug rash. Later in the week I was much better at my judgment and had nothing but good and safe rides.
The Bad Label
Labeling is a form of judgment. It’s not the judgment of risk. It’s not the judgment even of preference or desire. It’s the judgment of simplistic stereotyping. It’s the judgment of ego and insecurity. The women pictured above have very different bodies. Someone will label the one on our left as ‘obese’. Not in the medical sense, but in the judgmental sense. Someone will label the woman on our right as anorexic. Once again, not for medical reasons, but for judgmental ones. The label is applied not to help the person being labeled, but to satisfy the labeler. The label gives the labeler comfort, it puts them higher up, it gives them moral worth because they aren’t obese or anorexic. They are better than those two women.
Negation
And when we label like that, we not only judge but we negate. We are blind to who they really are and thus we negate all other elements of their character and humanity.
We negate whether they are kind or loving or sacrificial or patient or brilliant or funny or great parents or fantastic business people or talented artists. We deny ourselves the chance to know who they are because we are so intent on our own moral and social comfort that we would rather just label, judge and be done with it.
How do you avoid doing that in your life?
This, and all my drawings, are for sale, original or print. Please email me at marty@napkindad.com to inquire.
Drawing and commentary by Marty Coleman
Quote by Soren Kierkegaard, 1813 -1855, Danish Philosopher
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by Marty Coleman | Mar 6, 2015 | Series |
Missing in Action
I have been remiss in posting these days, first due to our vacation to Mexico. It was nice but unproductive work-wise.
No, this is not my leg and foot. It belongs to my sister-in-law, Earlyne, who was sitting next to me.
The death of my Father-in-Law, Tom Reynolds, which I wrote about in my last post, was right on the vacation’s heels. I have been getting the house ready for a slew of overnight guests (yes I vacuum, dust, mop and make beds) and then there are all the social and ritual events that go along with someone passing away.
These were the machines he was hooked up to in the hospital.
Coming Up
I have a number of sketchbook drawings I did over the vacation that will be coming and will be continuing the winter series I started with last week’s piece.
In addition I am working on another ‘Artist I Love’ piece. This painter is contemporary and uses words, any idea who it might be?
Where Am I?
If you know me from Facebook you know I do a lot of ‘Where Am I’ posts, where I take a picture while I am out and about, near or far, and then post it with the question, Where am I? I don’t always make it easy, sometimes so much so that I can’t even remember where I was.
Here’s a random one from the past that shouldn’t be too hard.
Where was I?
Photos and commentary by Marty Coleman. Photo of the painting by Jerry L. Thompson
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