Raul awoke to the rumbling of his flight’s landing. His knees dug into the seat before him. He rubbed his eyes and looked outside the window. “We have arrived in Orlando, Florida where the Eastern Time is six o’ clock PM,” the pilot said. In time, as the landing smoothed Raul apologized to the woman whose seat he hit in front of him. She too had committed the same crime. When the flight landed and after chivalrously letting the women behind him continue down the aisles to exit, Raul took his turn to gather his on-board belongings and exit the plane as well. His excitement rose. He was a Haitian in America for the first time coming as a simple farmhand that steered away from the lower society flock looking to accomplish more. He arrived with new hopes, fresh standards and unblemished integrity. His blank slate was about to be written. Raul, now reaching this inspiring mindset, began entering the airport, and… his first impression of America from the airport was, honestly, discerning. Ragged black plastic on the ceiling, pillars, and walls concealed what the imagination was left to ponder.
While absorbed by the bleak landscape Raul heard a business man’s voice, “Look everyone and the Honduran cleaner lady knows that Terra is pulling the strings around here….and she can only say ‘I clean room now?’ ” Raul turned to see a clean shaven business man with a shining blue plastic ornament in his left ear that extended to his face on his cheek. Raul, quite fond of eavesdropping, had decided to linger in the lobby. After a brief pause of what seemed contemplation, the man began speaking again but more loudly and not necessarily towards any one man in the lobby, “And I’m not against anyone ‘sleeping in’ but not on the job, Will.” Raul observed as the man talked to himself, “Sure… I’d grant you that.” “No!!” he’d say suddenly as if hot water was poured in his face. “Look, I’m just not comfortable with the topic Alright?!.” The man had come to a conclusion with himself. “Wait, I got someone else here on the line.”
“Knowles here, you get the sells cause I got the intel’,” he said in a sing song voice.
Raul became frightened by this average looking, yet insane, man. The man adopted excited expressions as he talked to thin air. His hand gestures were directed towards the walls, the trees, and empty seats. Everyone else walking by didn’t seem to give the matter that much attention. The man, now passing by Raul began pacing back and forth, talking as if there was a whole congregation in his head. Raul became frightened as the once excited man grew increasingly serious. His voice sounded grave when he said, “Mr. Issum, I was just discussing this issue with Will. No… I’ll let him defend himself. As for me, I’m in no way affiliated with Terra…or, I’m sorry… Mrs. Issum.” Once calm, Knowle’s voice now rose to a shout; apparently the congregation in his head was becoming irritating. Knowles continued, “Whatever, Terra told you---No! I KNOW Terra’s leading you into this---Know what?! I quit!!” Knowles passed by Raul once more, heading towards the bar muttering, “I’ll get her.” Raul followed in the direction of Knowles, but made his way to the monorail station. Raul was situated between two ports. The tracks themselves were concealed by transparent wall barriers and locked sliding doors.
While waiting for the train to come, Raul pulled an orange out of his lunch pack. With a plastic knife Raul sliced the orange, being careful not to waste the juice on the floor. “Homeland security is a code level orange. Please do not leave any bags, laptops, purses, or packages unattended,” a female voice reminded.
Raul’s orange came from the fields. He brought quite a few, but most were consumed while waiting for the flight to America. The orange he brought out to eat was small. It lacked certain visual appeal due to lack of sunshine. He knew it came from a small tree overshadowed by others. There were bruises and slight puncture marks, but none the less Raul ate it. It still provided sustenance. And it had a somewhat overly bitter but sweet taste to it, a taste that had to be acquired in order to like. Quite a crowd began showing up to ride the mono-rail, most from his own flight from Haiti. One peculiar fellow with gelled short brown hair and blue eyes stopped near Raul. He was of average height; his age was not recognizable by his face, and he too, had one of those plastic devices.
A green light coming from the center of the piece made Raul feel uneasy once more, although the man seemed harmless. Suddenly he shifted his position upright and said, “Hill here.” Raul looked about failing to see who Hill was talking to. It was then Raul began to realize that Hill resembled the odd man from the lobby. “Yes, mam, the higher paying customers are taken care of.”
“This man must be off into the blue,” Raul thought to himself while eating his orange.
“Sure, the governor’s party is all set up in suite, 501,” Hill reported. “Yep, I’ve checked and everyone’s situated. The girls have his ‘paraphernalia’ in order. They’re just watching T.V. in the meantime. Fiona even went as far to invest from her own pocket. She’s the one that remembered the mints…. Yes, he will be wearing his usual sunglasses, jeans, and overcoats...I’mma tell ‘er, and I’ll extend your appreciation to her…. ” Hill paused as if his other self was speaking.
The mono-rail arrived. The sliding doors in front of Raul opened before him mechanically. Inside, poles and handles didn’t charm the foreigner, and the rug barely masked the aura of the steel floor. Never the less, Raul walked in and made reach for a handle. “Please remain seated, grab a pole, or handrail prior to departure, please,” the mono-rail seemed to say in a droll mono tone voice. Hill, ere he entered the doors adjusted his ear piece, and then stepped in. The sliding doors, soon afterwards, clamped shut. Hill grinned uncannily and without restraint despite his surroundings as he grabbed a pole. “Hey Michelle, it’s me Clint,” Hill began again. Raul began to think that Hill was walking down Dementia Blvd. while taking time to stop and talk to every pedestrian on the same side of the street.
“You poor dear,” Hill hoarsely, cooingly whispered. “I’m lucky to have such a passionate woman as my life partner. But you- you deserve better than that. Knowles… - - -He is too busy with his work. He views you only as an accessory, nothing more.” Hill listened as if just taking in what he had said. “I’m sorry, but the truth is the truth, you know? At least you see how before it is too late. -Ya. I’ve got to go,” Hill had stopped speaking for now, at least. “Mrs. Issum….” Hill had begun again. When Raul turned around he found Hill standing luxuriously with one had on a pole. It was multiple cases now, this man too; the insensibility of it all was what shook Raul. He edged away from Hill, handle by handle until he was on the other side of the car. “Hit Larry up for me some time….You take for granted that you are in my debt remember?” Hill said. “To much of your own credit, sure.” There was the grin, again.
The mono-rail came to its destination. Raul was out as soon as the sliding doors would permit. He hurried down the escalator, brushing past the other stationary riders to baggage claim. He found the other circulator distributing bags from his flight. He waited for the two bags from home which mainly contained clothes.
“Don’t ‘baby’ me,” a female voice shouted sporadically. Everyone, including Raul, turned to see a dramatic young fashionable woman, pacing. Was that a pink or red device?
“No, no. NO! Seth Knowles, you said she wasn’t going to be up there! We had this discussion. You said, you’d pick up and move hotels it you had even heard her name mentioned! Well she didn’t go out of her way from D.C. to see you in Baltimore to say hello! You two planned to meet up… --- No, don’t even try!” The woman was hysterical, near tears.
“What?! What are you looking at,” the woman snapped at the crowd staring at her. Everyone turned around carrying on about their business. Raul grabbed his bags, fearing for his life he fled the airport.
Humid Floridian air greeted him outside, coated with the passions of city night life. Raul hailed a standard taxi. The taxi driver, a fellow Hispanic greeted him. Raul noticed the advertisement on top of the taxi. It was his destination, The Hart Hotel. The logo, with the name of the hotel in lush green text, and it was encompassed by a blue oval. Raul stepped in as the driver put his bags in the trunk. As the driver got in and snapped in his seat belt, he asked, “Where to?”
“Hart Hotel,” replied Raul.
“Really…” the driver commented while looking into the rear view mirror at his passenger. “You know, I could get you a really nice deal in there…” They hit the highway Raul had his left window down breathing in the now cooling refreshing air. “Wow, look at that moon,” the driver commented. He looked out the right side of the window. The moon shined blood red-orange lucidly in the night sky. It stood distant, capturing Raul’s imagination. To the left, far off stars, now primitive illuminators of darkness were withered by the source of light best described as civilization, the night life. And the rays from celestial and terrestrial forces mixed, like red and white stripes hanging, drifting above. And the white stars of the sky and the red rays of the moon intertwined. And the blue stripes and the white cars cooperated for a moment And served the flag above served as the beacon for hope. Seeing the city of Orlando a sensation of warmth surged from within him as he leaned back in comfort.
“Here’s the coupon book,” the driver said as he passed back a binder “Look through find something that you think you’ll like.” The driver turned on the interior lights so Raul could see. Raul opened the binder to see models posing. A blonde in a red dress caught his fancy.
“Who is this,” asked Raul pointing to the attractive blonde.
“That’s ‘Luciferously Luscious’ Mistress Issum. She usually doesn’t bother with cheap customers. If you’re a high roller though, you might get in her good graces.”
“High roller?”
“Yeah, she sure does like em’ well built though. She does have an uncanny taste for foreigners, though. You can find someone cheaper and maybe nicer if you look hard enough.”
A tang of disgust hit Raul’s stomach after swallowing a gulp of grief. The car took the exit to downtown Disney. The slow of traffic provided an opportunity for escape, and while Raul contemplated such methods of escape they all left the driver without pay which did prove awkward. “Did you pick a girl yet,” the driver inquired. They were getting closer to Hart.
“Um not yet,” Raul replied hesitatingly. Cars pulling out of parking lots, and cars pulling in. Something sickened him about the surroundings of the establishment. People walked about unaware of their collective corruption. The old had participated in it, the parents encouraged it, and the young are enjoying it. The lights were bright. Oh, yes they were bright, blocking out all the stars.
“Alright,” the driver declared. “Put me through to Terra please.” Raul noticed an alarming green glow coming from the driver’s ear. Raul felt a shudder down his spine. The device of the lunatic in the lobby, the same green device Hill had donned. The device of the furious woman at baggage claim, now, here before him the device was at work once again. “Yes, I have an interested customer…. Well, intrigued in you actually,” the driver announced. They had come to the hotel.
Raul threw an estimated amount of money owed at the taxi driver. He ran into the hotel gasping as looked for the reception desk. Distracted by the walls decorated with bulls and bears ferociously snarling, Raul walked on rug so dark shadows were lost in the texture. Raul noticed the woman from the “coupon” book. Lights shimmered upon the blonde that, at first, scowled at him from afar. Her scowl turned to a warm welcoming smile. “He is quite anxious indeed,” the woman remarked. Raul noticed the eerie green glowing device on her ear. The woman beckoned Raul to join her…
“She’s mad…” Raul thought. “All of them mad!”
Men shouting and loud clamoring came from a descending elevator. A man arrested and under escort by police, shouted curses in retaliation to his allegations. The police aptly reminded the man, “Sir, you are under arrest for soliciting prostitution to minors and those of legal age, bribery, extortion, illegal licensing, embezzlement, and forgery.” The man under charge established himself as “Mr. Issum” and demanded to be let go. He had made appeals to his wife, but Terra Issum would not loan him her ears. She was in a preoccupying discussion with a young sharp police officer. Mr. Issum’s terrible cries fell on deaf ears as he was ushered outside. Raul noticed Mrs. Issum withdraw from her wallet, crisp bills with President Grant on the face of them. She smiled toothily as she handed the bills to the police officer. Terrified by her smile, Raul turned walking hastily outside.
Raul fled outside from the cool pristine haven to a seemingly exponentially more humid and grassy setting. The ominous red-orange moon hovered hauntingly above Hart Hotel. At that moment, Raul saw his possibilities being scaled before him. The weight of the possibility of making it in their mad world was there, and the weight of an honest and true life style looked none the surer. Were they balanced? He was not sure but such intricacies in the scale didn’t direct him as his own moral compass should. After all, a nation without an honest golden warm host on the horizon loaning a welcome, such a device is prerequisite.
Foreign hands forced Raul’s wrists behind his back and bound them with bought cuffs. It was the young sharp police officer from inside. Escorted by the enforcing hands of justice to his room for the night, Raul waited for his final hearing. It It was moments until the final gavel sounded and sentenced Raul to the asylum. There, Raul was left ignored for eternity to ramble upon what knowledge the country of opportunity granted,"Gilded scales favor gilded masses."
