“Waiter, bring me another Bloody Mary.”
“Yes, sir. Coming right up.”
I sat at a table at Estel’s Restaurant waiting for Charlie to come downstairs. The waiter brought the Bloody Mary to the table next to me and set it down. I watched the tourist drink it off in four big gulps. “Waiter, another Bloody Mary.”
By the time Charlie made it downstairs fifteen minutes later the man had already drunk two more Bloody Mary’s.
“What’s up with this guy?” Charlie asked, as we watched the customer down two more drinks.
“I’m not sure,” I told him. “He’s drinking those things as fast as the bartender can make them.”
Charlie and I went out to a table on the beach and by the time we came in the tourist was gone. The next day we were sitting at one of the inside tables and the tourist came in again and sat at a table close to us.
“Waiter,” he called. “I’ll take a Bloody Mary.”
“Here we go again,” Charlie said, as we watched the tourist down two more drinks.
“I wonder what’s going on,” I said. “Maybe he’s just a hardcore alcoholic.”
“The easy way to find out is to ask,” Charlie said.
“Hey, friend,” he called out to the tourist. “Are you trying to drown your troubles?”
“I guess you could say that,” the man replied.
“I have news for you,” I said. “Trying to drown your troubles usually doesn’t work.”
“You’re telling me,” the man said. “I can’t even get my wife anywhere near the water.”
