Gallivanting on Guam

By Dave Slagle

Gallivanting on Guam is a humorous and entertaining narrative of a man who moves to Guam to become the general manager of Tropics Gym. Immersing himself into the local culture he succumbs to a lifestyle of philandering and learns to balance his troubles with humor and personal growth while working for a corrupt businessman from a wealthy family. Readers will enjoy both the historical references and situations that the author recounts in this captivating semi- autobiographical, story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBookIt.com
• Release date: Apr 26, 2016
• ISBN: 9781456603083

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Chapter 1. Lost in Paradise

This afternoon finds me alone, sitting at Duke’s Barefoot Beach Bar Waikiki, pondering my future over iced coffee. Rotating the straw clockwise with the force of Coriolis, ice cubes and mocha latte swirl dervishely inside my glass. Bored and preoccupied with random thought all the while, staring out at the vastness of the Pacific Ocean. Through polarized Ray Ban vision I see glimmering sunlight reflecting off wave after perfect wave as another afternoon passes by paradise. To avoid everyone I know I have vanquished myself to a place where I am surrounded by tourists slathered in SPF 45 or coconut scented Maui Bronzing oil. I am surrounded by tourists who will always order exotically named tropical drinks, the variety adorned with a slice of pineapple and a mini paper umbrella. Unbeknownst to them, they are participating in the ritual of being lost in paradise. They are lost because they don’t know the geography of the island, the local dialects, the history and circumstances that comprise island culture. Lost because they thought it would be the same as back home, only on an island. Lost because they expect Hawaii to be as it appears in movies and TV shows. Lost because they expect to see sugarcane, rainforests and grass huts but found themselves stuck in the tourist mire of Waikiki or lost in downtown Honolulu, a modern American city. Every week brings another round of tourists ordering another round of drinks, engaging in another round of sterilized ancient traditions and shopping for Hawaiian souvenirs at the International Marketplace or any of the forty four ABC stores in Waikiki. Every week another round of tourists immersing into alcohol fueled pseudo-cultural activities to celebrate the island experience. Here in paradise, another week passes and another round of tourists is lost in the vortex of vacation.  

Crossing into my line of vision I see Rabbit Kekai in the distance, leading a group of students as they paddle out for a surf lesson. Rabbit is one of the original Waikiki Beach Boys and a living legend. Taking lessons from Rabbit Kekai is a privilege that most tourists don’t appreciate. For most tourists the surf is safest in Waikiki and to be able to say that you surf’d Hawaii is some kind of major status back home, especially in the mainland USA. But the real surfers, the true believers can only be found at local surf spots like Point Panic, Makaha, Sunset Beach or the famous Banzai Pipeline off Ehukai Beach. I take out a pen and write on a cocktail napkin; "5/3/01 I have been pondering winter weather as it transcends into spring, considering a tropical concept and forthwith I will venture on an unknown adventure; from Bruce Brown's ENDLESS SUMMER to Dee Dee Ramone's ENDLESS VACATION. Summer vacations, inspiration, I only know that I want to chase the sun."

Setting the pen back down on the cocktail napkin my gaze returns to the waves. 2001 has been pretty crappy, so far anyway. I keep trying to rationalize my hasty escape. This year began with me breaking up with my girlfriend of three years, Sweet Keilani, the Ulalena dancer with the little red flower in her hair, a tropical flower in long flowing hair, her trademark as she calls it. Wearing a flower in their hair is a common practice among local girls but Keilani is a woman of contradiction. After graduating with a degree in political science she became a law school dropout and joined a professional dance troupe where she became both a fitness fanatic and an alcoholic. A woman of complete conflict, she loves tall buildings and she's afraid of heights. She is prone to motion sickness yet as the girl in the aerial hoop high above the stage, she elegantly twists, spins and amazes the crowd with each performance. After three months of living together on Maui she had sunk into the bottom of the bottle, from heavy drinker to full blown alcoholic. I couldn’t live with her any longer and she couldn’t stand the thought of living without me. Under the influence of alcohol and fueled by anger, she attacked me on the night I was moving out, lunging at me with a knife. Drunk, passionate and pissed off is a lethal combination but I managed to subdue her without injury. She woke up the next day with a bad hangover and I woke up back on Oahu, an island away from her.

A few weeks after breaking-up with Keilani, my career as the general manager of six vitamin stores ended abruptly. It was just a few months ago when the IRS became interested in the business ventures of Cynical Dick, a steroid popping, 5’2 155 lb self described bodybuilder who was my boss. He owned the vitamin stores I managed until he unexpectedly shut them down and disappeared. Dick is a real character, the type of guy that enters a room proudly announcing to anyone and everyone that he is one bad mofo. Dick is always talking. He’s like a non-stop infomercial for anything that he thinks might earn him a dollar. He began his career by selling steroids back when he was still in the Navy, a business that he continued as a civilian in Hawaii. Dick was using the stores as a façade for his money laundering schemes, a fact that I didn’t learn until it was too late. But it wasn’t difficult to learn the truth about Dick. I simply had to ask a few friends. On pacific islands, gossip, also known as the coconut wireless spreads fast. Dick was involved in something shady. I knew the vitamin stores made a profit. As the general manager, it was my job to make sure that happened but my friend Ray, a sergeant in Honolulu Police Department, told me that Dick was under investigation, suspected as a drug dealer. That conversation came moments after my final conversation with Dick. He had called me from the Honolulu airport. S’pose yous heard I was gettin bagged for dust but it ain’t true, just can’t take this wicked heat no more so tell the rest of them guys I shut all them stores down and moved off island." And that was the last I ever heard from Cynical Dick. Within a month I had lost both my girlfriend and my job. I was heartbroken, unemployed and 2001 had only just begun.

The melting ice has watered down the coffee so I slowly slide the almost empty glass away from me, moving it to the far end of the counter. Tomorrow I am moving physically to a place on the far end of the earth, Guam, the island commonly known as America in Asia, where America's day begins or as it was named by the explorer, Ferdinand Magellan, Las Isla de Los Ladrones or the island of thieves. Guam is an island territory of the United States located in Micronesia, an island that is rich in culture, tradition, history and for me, a new adventure.

Today seems typical until I walk out of the bedroom into the kitchen where reality knocks me into Monday morning with the absence of my coffee maker. It’s in a box somewhere at this moment perhaps already on its way to Guam. Fuck, I need coffee. I hear Emiko saying that she is going to take a shower now. On most of her days off from work, Emiko likes to sleep in late. She likes to stay with me and have an all day breakfast in bed. She likes walking along the beach at sunset and late dinners on the lanai. But one of her favorite things to do on days off is take a long hot shower. Ok I say to her as I walk out on the lanai and drink in the morning air. The view from the lanai is perfect for people watching. In perfect island weather I watch them walking, driving and riding mopeds through the streets below. They walk down the sidewalk and around the corner of Wilder Avenue and Kewalo Street. They walk in and out of Village Market or the Sure Shot Café for lunch supplies or coffee. Most are too self absorbed to notice the perfect weather. They hurry past TCBY, Subway sandwiches and Peppa’s Korean BBQ to join the mundane world of nine to five. They are lost in the rush of the others, all of them hurrying through another perfect day in paradise.

Paradise is a word usually associated with heaven or a tropical vacation destination, a piece of heaven on earth and here we live in a postcard paradise, a dream vacation destination of tourists worldwide. Hawaii has been my home for the past seven years. My thoughts shift to Guam. What do I really know about Guam? Snakes come to mind. I hate snakes. All I know is that Guam has a lot of brown tree snakes. Brown tree snakes are viscous constrictors and as rumor has it, they cut through power lines leaving much of the island without electricity and slither into the homes of unsuspecting local families to strangle babies. One news report stated that there are thirty thousand brown tree snakes per square mile on Guam. Snakes that coil, constrict, swallow kittens, puppies and even whole chickens. I read an article in the Honolulu Advertiser newspaper about a plane from Guam that had been detained and searched at the Honolulu airport after two brown tree snakes dropped out of the wheel wells. Hawaii has no snakes and introducing them to the islands is illegal as they would disrupt the natural environment. Whenever the Honolulu airport authority finds snakes on a plane, they kill them immediately. And Guam has thick jungles with deep caves, the dwelling place of bats and the hiding place of Japanese soldiers’ leftover from WWII. But those stories are all just rumors or so say my friends who are from Guam. My new boss said that I should try to imagine Guam as a balmy little oasis in the Philippine Sea. An island that is America in Asia, complete with main street USA appeal and the conveniences of a modern American city. All of that in a place that combines island culture with fitness centers, coffee shops with Chamorro food and everything in between.

While Emiko is still showering, I remember that I have to call Star Markets and speak to the human resources manager. It’s a call I have been avoiding. I don’t normally procrastinate, but this is an unusual circumstance. The Star Market’s operator transfers me to the HR Manager and I stumble through an apology and explain to her that I won’t be able to begin work this week. She asks me if everything is ok and if I want to push back my start date until next week. I apologize again and tell her that due to unforeseen circumstances, I will be moving away from O’ahu and I will not be able to accept the job after all. A few moments of uncomfortable silence pass and finally she says that she understands and wishes me good luck wherever I end up. I say mahalo and end the call. Emiko runs out of the bathroom down the hallway to the bedroom with a giggle, attempting to cover herself with a small bath towel. I laugh at her mock modesty as I get up from the chair and run after her, rolling across the bed and pulling her down on top of me.

All that I have left in here is my toothbrush, toothpaste, razor, soap, shampoo, shaving cream, hair gel, two bath towels and my clothes. I just need to drop off the keys on my way out and we can go I say, taking inventory of my bathroom. Emiko rolls over in the bed pulling the sheets over her head. Taking an envelope and some paper from my backpack, I write a note to the building manager explaining that I have to move but that I am enclosing a check with the balance of my rent. I fold the note and put it into the envelope. Emiko comes from behind and hugs me. Let’s go get some coffee she says.

It feels like a casual Sunday morning sitting here in the Sure Shot Café. We enjoy reading the paper together and sharing a bagel. But as familiar as this feels, there is something unsettling about it all. Maybe it’s because there are so few customers here, mid morning on a Monday unlike the weekends when the place is crowded. I’m enjoying the subtle calm of an uncrowded coffee shop and it occurs to me that a Monday may be a good day to go to the movies too. But the creeping reality of the day brings me back into the present moment when Emiko reads her horoscope and makes a joke that it’s not too late for me to stay here and start a new adventure with her. My phone rings and when I answer, I hear Sergeant Ray’s booming voice. He is telling me that he can meet me at the Mott Smith Lani Loa building to pick up the car in about an hour. Ray’s girlfriend lives in a condo at the Mott Smith Lani Loa and he is going to park my car there until he can sell it. I agree to meet him there with the car in an hour and end the call. Emiko looks at me and asks if it’s time to leave. I nod and she folds the newspaper leaving on the table for another customer. We hold hands as we walk up Wilder Avenue together one last time.

After loading my baggage into Emiko’s car and double checking that we got all of our stuff out of the apartment, I take my apartment keys off my key ring and put them into the envelope with the note I wrote earlier. I walk down to the manager’s office and slide the envelope through the slot in mailbox, pausing for a minute and wondering if I should actually go and speak with the manager. I’m not sure what I would say and I need to go meet Ray, so I ditch that thought and walk down to my car. Emiko follows me in her car over to the Mott Smith Lani Loa and we see Ray standing out front. When I drive up, he motions towards the garage. Emiko waves and parks in the street in front of the building while I drive around to the parking garage on the side of the building. After sitting there for a few minutes Ray and Emiko walk up from the inside of the garage. Ray opens the gate with an automatic clicker. I drive through the open gate and into a parking stall that Ray is pointing at. As soon as I shut off the engine and open the door, Ray asks about the mileage.

It’s got about fifty thousand on the drive train. I tell him and over a hundred thousand on the whole car.

Ray sits in the driver’s seat, turns the key and revs the motor.

What are the features of the car again? He asks, turning the motor off.

It’s an ‘89 Nissan Maxima SE with a transplanted twin turbo V6 from a ’92 300 ZX with racing exhaust, power steering, power windows, kick- ass stereo with a set of thumping Rockford Fosgate speakers and a cold blowing air-conditioning system. The paint is a custom high gloss burgundy, it has a dropped suspension kit and it’s sitting on Enkei aluminum wrapped in Goodyear rubber.

The car was a repossession that Dick bought at an auction in Southern California. He had it shipped over to Hawaii with a dozen other cars and he sold it to me for the amount he paid plus the cost of shipping and an extra five hundred dollars for his effort. It was a total of thirty five hundred dollars.

I didn’t like the fact that Dick was making a profit off of me but as he pointed out, That fuckin’ cah? I could get six, maybe seven grand for that fuckin’ cah!

Dick had been right. The car is worth twice the amount I paid. I should probably tell Ray that I want five grand for the car but I don’t feel right about that.

I’m not looking to make a profit, so if you can sell it for more than thirty five hundred, you have a commission I say as Ray is looking under the dashboard.

I want to buy it as a present for my little brother’s high school graduation he says. I will pay you the twenty four hundred. Is it okay if I the money to you on Guam in a few weeks? He asks.

Okay I say. I will mail you the pink slip after I receive the money.

He nods in agreement. So you’re really leaving today? He asks.

Yes, actually we need to go now I say. Ray shakes my hand gives me a hug and wishes me good luck. Emiko says good bye to him as we are walking out of the parking garage to her car. We have about three hours until I have to be at the airport so she drives down to Magic Island at Ala Moana Beach Park where we can walk around before lunch. On the drive over to Magic Island she tells me that we should have lunch at the mall. I am lost in a daydream about Guam and partially oblivious to her conversation which doesn’t quite register with me. I think she said that we are going to have saimin for lunch at Mom’s café. Where is Mom’s café? I think I would rather have sushi than saimin.

Walking around Magic Island we pass joggers, bicyclists, tour groups and a wedding party is posing for pictures with Diamond Head as the background. Emiko has a forlorn look in her eyes as we watch. She squeezes my hand and sighs. I first met Emiko Satou when I worked at the vitamin store next to Gold’s Gym. Her office building was next door. I used to work at that store every Friday and wave to Emiko as she passed by on her way to the gym. Like most local girls she embodies a natural radiance, grace and friendliness. But the first time I asked her out she told me no. I was dumbfounded because I asked her out again and again and she kept saying no. Eventually the reason came to me. Emiko thought that I was still together with Keilani. So the next Friday morning when I saw Emiko, I explained that Keilani and I broke up and I was single. After hearing my explanation she finally agreed to go out for drinks after work. Emiko drank four Salty dogs that night at the Row Bar and by the time we got back to her office parking garage, she was way too drunk to drive. She took me into her office and we ended up having sex on her desk and then going back to my place. By the time we hit the sheets she didn’t seem drunk at all but she shrieked, scratched, moaned arched her back and wrapped her legs around me until we both passed out. The next morning, she left hung- over and ashamed, without even waking me up. When I finally did wake up, sometime around noon, the first thing I did was call her, which caught her off guard. I asked her to meet me for coffee and we spent the rest of that day together. After a few weeks she started spending all of her nights with me. We began to see more of each other after I lost my job. Emiko does her best to occupy my time. We go to the movies twice week and we spend hours sitting on the lanai enjoying conversation. She keeps me grounded, a pillar of support yet we constantly argue about the status of our relationship. She has romantic intentions and dreams of a wedding, a home and starting a family. But I feel like my life is too unstable, my future is too volatile. I don’t want to let her know that I am vulnerable because right now she makes me feel secure. I don’t want her to leave me and yet here I am leaving her today.

Since I was no longer working, I spent most of the last five months anxiously applying for jobs and writing nutrition articles for Hawaii Sport news. Although that didn’t pay me any money, it did keep me involved and interested in the health and fitness industry. And I continued to work out five days a week, sometimes lifting weights with Jay Merrill, sometimes doing cardio with Emiko, always to relieve stress. I had a plan that included Emiko. I would find a job and work and earn a steady income. After that I would be able to focus on a relationship with her. But she kept repeating the same speech. The one about wanting a relationship that leads to marriage and a family. If only she could have chilled out and waited for me to start a new career. If only she would have stopped pressuring me to move our relationship forward. If only she could have understood the stress and pressure of a shrinking bank account and the impending deadline of the next month’s rent.

Driving into the airport, Emiko says that it will be easier if we say a short goodbye and that she wants to just drop me off curbside at the departure area. My stomach sinks, but I agree. I tell myself that I agree because she sounds relieved to be getting rid of me. I agree because it seems like she will be happier once I am gone. I agree because I want to focus on the future. But really, I agree because I am too afraid to tell her that I need her. I am too afraid to tell her that I can’t image what the last few months would have been like without her. She pulls to the curb of the International Departures terminal. I can’t look at her so I get out of the car and take my backpack from the backseat. Walking towards the airport entrance I hear Emiko’s voice softly calling me. Turning around to meet her embrace, she wraps her arms around me tightly. We hold each other and I hear her say I love you in a whisper so soft it that it may just be a thought passing through my head. I hug her tightly and feel her tremble as she begins to cry. A rush of emotions strikes me. I hold my breath. I focus. I am standing at the airport. I am about to leave O’ahu and start a new job. I am about to leave Emiko. She loves me. It was the first time she has ever said that to me, here, just now at the Honolulu Airport. I spent the last few days trying to disassociate from my life on O’ahu. I avoided everyone and everything that had been part of my life in Hawaii, everyone but Emiko.

My seat is in the economy plus section of Continental Micronesia’s evening flight from Honolulu to Guam and there must be at least one hundred open seats. Enough empty seats that I could move to one of the middle rows and lie out across all three seats to sleep. My new coworker, Nestor Daya, is doing that about five rows back. But I am too anxious to sleep. The flight from Honolulu to Guam is a little over seven hours and we will cross the International dateline. That means that even though we left Honolulu at four on Monday evening but we will not be landing on Guam until Tuesday night at eight thirty. It’s amusing to me that we will lose an entire day travelling from Hawaii to Guam, travelling into the future. I try to read the Continental in-flight magazine but I keep thinking about Emiko and my life on O’ahu. My memories are mostly of Emiko and Jay, the two people who I will miss the most. I keep thinking about everything that happened over the last seven years. I keep thinking about all of my friends in Hawaii and here I am on a plane, leaving them all behind.

I’m exhausted, tired, but I can’t sleep. This is crazy. I keep replaying the last three weeks in my head and I can’t help but laugh at myself. How the fuck did I end up on this plane? It’s a vivid memory. I was walking to Gold’s Gym for an evening workout with Jay Merrill, my big brother. I stopped in front of the vacant building on South Street that previously housed one of the sports nutrition stores. An empty feeling began to pulse through me until it was disrupted by the sound of jets passing through the clouds as they flathatted towards Hickham Air Force Base. I looked into the window of the office building next door, to wave to Emiko, but she was not at her desk and then my cell phone started to ring.

Hello? I had answered.

I heard Jay’s voice. Hey, I won’t be able to work out with you today, work is crazy and I need to stay and finish a load of crap. Can we work out on Saturday?

Yah, no worries, Jay I said.

I am sorry, are you already at the gym? He asked.

Yah I am just about to walk in the door I said.

Have a good workout and I will see you tomorrow he said.

Ok Jay, have a super fun evening at work I said.

You’re a little shit. He said laughing right before he hung up.

Inside the gym one of the trainers, Chris Fernandez saw me and flashed a shaka. Hey, I have a client that I want you to meet, he owns a gym on Guam and he is looking for a manager he said.

Ignoring his question I responded with, Hey Fernandez, What’s up?

Fernandez continued. I am serious, this guy has big money, and it could be a huge opportunity for you. He has been in Honolulu a few days interviewing for a manager and he asked to meet you."

You’re serious? I asked in disbelief.

Yah, several people have mentioned you to him. He really wants to meet you. Guam could be a huge opportunity for you. This guy, Mr. Sawdoo, is the real deal. He owns several businesses and the gym he said.

Seriously, why the hard sales pitch? Why would Mr. Sawdoo be interested in working with me? He doesn’t even know me! Is Sawdoo really his name? I asked.

Mr. Sawdoo is his real name. It’s spelled S-A-R-U, Mr. Saru. Yah, he asked me to recommend someone to manage his gym and you are the only person that would be good. Think about it Fernandez said with an irritated tone.

Is he here now? I asked.

No Fernandez replied, but he wants to know when he can schedule a time to meet with you. I have been to Guam and it is great, really great. They treated me very well and the gym is beautiful, top of the line. Seriously, it is better than anything we have here and the clientele is great. And living on Guam is like living here. The people are friendly, the island is beautiful and Chamorro culture is great. It is a really great opportunity and I think you would really like Guam. You should talk to my client. You could make some serious money.

I didn’t understand why Fernandez was making it into such a big deal. I was not interested in moving away from O’ahu and I didn’t really care about meeting his client so I told him that if his client was in the gym the next morning, I would talk to him before my workout. The next morning when I walked into the gym Fernandez was sitting at a table with two other men waiting for me, Mr. Saru and Nestor Daya. Standing before me with his shaved head, overdeveloped muscles sprouting with body hair and his brightly colored outfit, Mr. Saru looked like a cross between a circus strongman and a professional wrestler. I remember that when Fernandez introduced Mr. Saru, he squeezed my hand like a vice grip as if to emphasize his power. I remember thinking that the other man was considerably smaller and his skin tight t-shirt had the Guam Bodybuilding Championship logo on it. Fernandez introduced him to me; this is Nestor Daya, he is the head trainer at Mr. Saru’s gym and he is the current Mr. Guam bodybuilding champion.

I shook hands with Nestor and took a seat at the table. Mr. Saru began to speak.

You are the guy I have heard so many good things about? Mr. Saru asked incredulously. I must have looked puzzled because Fernandez quickly spoke up; He is the guy that everyone said would be the best manager for your gym.

Mr. Saru looked me up and down and then continued I have interviewed about a dozen people and have not found anyone qualified to manage my gym. I even asked all the fitness industry people I know and your name keeps coming up. In fact, at dinner the other night, I told Fernandez that I keep hearing about this one guy, the manager of the vitamin shops and he immediately smiled and said that he knew you too. Can you believe that? Even Fernandez says that you would be perfect for the job. So I asked him to introduce me to you and here we are.

I smiled and looked first at Fernandez then over to Mr. Saru.

You should see the gym, it is beautiful, clean and the equipment is great Fernandez said.

Mr. Saru was pleased to hear Fernandez give praise to the gym but I was surprised to hear him kiss ass like that. Fernandez isn’t the kind of guy to promote something unless he is getting paid. Nestor stood up suddenly and excused himself from the table. He’s gonna puke again. We were training legs with Fernandez and Nestor had to run for the bathroom to puke a couple times Mr. Saru said with a laugh.

I’ve been around enough meat headed bodybuilders to know that in the world of bodybuilding, training to the point of vomiting is an admirable trait. Among the hardcore bodybuilding crowd, it’s a way of showing off, training hard enough to become nauseated and then continuing to train.

What about you? You look like you train. Do you ever plan to compete?" Mr. Saru asked.

No, I don’t plan on being a bodybuilder again I said.

He was the runner up Mr. USA middleweight a few years ago Fernandez said, trying to add to my credibility with Mr. Saru and it worked. He looked at me with new found respect and smiled. Well, I have an opportunity that I would like you to consider. I own the most beautiful, well equipped gym on Guam. It has a juice bar, personal training, group exercise rooms, a great staff but the one thing I don’t have is a good manager, a good leader. I need someone with experience. I am interested in learning more about you and telling you more about this opportunity. We are having dinner tonight at Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse. Nestor and Fernandez are going and I would like to invite you too. I remember that my first thought was of Emiko, that night was supposed to be our movie date night. And then I thought about the opportunity at hand. I remember wondering if it was legitimate.

Sure what time is dinner? I asked.

Meet me at the Waikiki Prince Hotel at 6:30 this evening. We can meet in the lobby and talk before we go over to the restaurant he said.

Okay, I will see you this evening I said, standing up from the table. I shook hands with Mr. Saru, Nestor and Fernandez before walking into the gym to train.

I remember calling Jay because his company has an office on Guam. Guam, why on earth Guam? was his initial response. All I know is that it’s hot, really hot! The average humidity is 86 percent and there are no birds because all the brown tree snakes ate them. He laughed and then continued, Everyone we send down there from my office says that it would be a miserable place to live compared to Hawaii. I have to take another call. Don’t do anything crazy, ok? Let’s talk later. Bye.

I hit the end call button, placed my cell phone on the coffee table and walked out onto the lanai. Although my phone call to Jay was brief, he planted a seed of doubt. I didn’t know what to think. Standing on the lanai, gazing over Makiki I couldn’t help but imagine Guam as an unbearably humid, desolate island, barren, save for a few scattered palm trees infested with thousands of snakes. And a gym, there is a gym. High humidity, brown tree snakes and a gym, that was all I knew about Guam. I had forgotten to ask Mr. Saru if I could bring Emiko to the dinner and I knew I shouldn’t bring her along as an uninvited guest, only a haole would do that. The behavior of a haole person is typically rude. Throughout the pacific islands, Caucasians are typically referred to as haoles and if there is one thing I had learned during the last seven years, it is to avoid acting like a haole. I called Emiko and I remember hearing exasperation in her voice, even over the phone.

What time will you be finished? she asked.

I don’t know, maybe nine, maybe ten? I will call you when I am finished I said. There was a long silence before she responded. Okay I still want to see you tonight. Call me when you are home. Bye.

It was six fifteen in that evening when I walked into the lobby of the Waikiki Prince Hotel to meet Mr. Saru. The pretty local girl at the registration desk directed me to the bar. Mr. Saru was there waiting for me. With the brilliance of the setting sun over Honolulu Harbor as a backdrop, we sat, drinking Diet Coke as Mr. Saru told me about himself. He is part Chamorro, the indigenous people of Guam, because his mother is Chamorro but his father is from the mainland USA, a haole. He told me that his maternal grandfather was one of the island’s first millionaires. Mr. Saru grew up on Guam and attended private schools there before attending the University of San Diego. He told me that his wife had been his high school sweetheart and when he returned to Guam after graduating from college, they got married. I remember that during dinner, the focus of Mr. Saru’s conversation was Mr. Saru. He liked to talk about himself. Finally, towards the end of dinner he explained that knew I was a personal trainer at the Honolulu Club and the general manager of six vitamin stores but he wanted to hear more about my background and interests. I remember telling him that I am from California. I was educated in Exercise and Nutrition at California State University. I worked as a health food store manager, a personal trainer and a gym manager before I moved to Hawaii. My last job was managing six vitamin stores. I ended by telling him I love living in Honolulu. Mr. Saru smiled and said Once you see what I have to offer, you will be in love with Guam.

That may be true I said but it would take a lot to get me off this island. I love living in paradise and I never want to leave.

It was true although I had been feeling a little out of place with all of the uncertainties. I had no job and not enough money to pay the upcoming month’s rent and yet I was really not interested in Guam. Mr. Saru had laughed and said So you want to negotiate, well ok, let’s talk. What kind of compensation would you need to consider the position of general manager of my gym?

Before I could answer he continued. Why don’t you write down your salary and compensation expectations and fax it to my office? Once I get home I can take a look at it and see if we can work something out.

I remember it was a few days later at Jay’s office that I stood looking at the fax machine and thinking about how I didn’t want to deal with Mr. Saru. I thought that if I sent a fax with an outrageous compensation package I would not be hearing back from him. Sending that fax should have made him realize that I was really not interested in moving to Guam.

Jay read the fax, blinked and stared blankly at me.

You really don’t want to move to Guam, do you? he asked.

No! I said. But this Mr. Saru will not take a simple ‘no thank you’ as an answer. He asked me to send him my salary requirements and expectations so I wrote that I would need an apartment and a company car, a salary plus commission and performance bonus incentives that pay a quarterly and annual commission, complete health insurance, a credit card for gas and other car expenses, a stipulation that the car has to be new, specifically a new Nissan Pathfinder, the apartment has to be air conditioned, completely furnished including a washer and dryer and in a nice location. For the compensation, I added an annual membership sales and retention goal with the stipulation that when I achieve the goal, my car is upgraded to the new Mercedes Benz of my choice. I don’t expect that he will say yes to all of that and besides, two days later I accepted the job with Star Markets I said to Jay.

You little shit! Why didn’t you tell me you took that job? Congratulations he said.

I had convinced myself that I was going to be a manager at Star Markets. I naively believed that by asking for an outrageous compensation package that Mr. Saru would say no and leave me alone. It had been more than a week since that dinner and I had interviewed for a job with Star Markets grocery stores. They were hiring a floating manager as a go-between for their five grocery stores and my six years of working as a store manager trainee at a Safeway grocery store in California was about to pay off. A career in the retail grocery business would have provided the stability that I needed. A job with Star Markets would have allowed me to maintain my standard of living on O’ahu. A job with Star Markets was the solution that I needed and yet I still felt lost. I felt that taking that job would have been like stepping backwards. I believed that my future was in the fitness industry. But I still felt like I wanted to continue moving forward with a career in fitness, even if it meant taking a big risk. I also remember how Emiko congratulated me when I told her I accept the grocery manager job but even her enthusiasm didn’t make me feel that it was the right choice. I wanted to work in the fitness industry. Even so, for the next week and a half I kept telling myself that managing a grocery store would not be that bad. I hadn’t heard anything from Mr. Saru since I faxed my compensation requirements. No news was good news and I figured that I wouldn’t be bothered by Mr. Saru anymore. With this whole Guam situation behind me, I could concentrate on starting work with Star Markets and get on with my life. I met with their human resources manager and filled out all the employment paperwork. I was scheduled to begin work on Wednesday of the following week. That night Emiko wanted to celebrate by going to karaoke. A few drinks were all it took for her to loosen up. She really likes to sing