Palau: Getting Wasted

"The Long Wait"

I see myself in this picture; the years I stood with my own nose pressed to the glass.

A bar is like a secret society when you're six. It's forbidden and irresistible.

You can't see much through the tinted glass, only shadows gliding through the mystery. Sometimes, a stray beam of light would catch in a glass and for a moment, just for a moment, the room would light up and I'd see the future. But it was a distant future. For a kid, a week is too long. What is 15 years? May as well be forever.

How long before these iron bars soften and I can squeeze my way through?

This was surely me. You who have read the "Getting Wasted" stories know. You who have lived the "Getting Wasted" stories know better. I am this little boy with his face pressed against the dark glass of the dive bar, back to the ocean, taste of hops a dream on the tongue.

This is the next generation of me.


I kid you not. The boy in this picture, taken almost a year ago now, is my little brother. It's in the genes.

Here's to the future.

Sam's a meanie.