You see, this March break was spent at an all-inclusive resort near Holguin, Cuba. There are countless tales of the shenanigans that James and Pierce got into that week but they are all only good stories because of the limitless supply of alcohol available to the young gentlemen. This specific night, after a hefty comsumtion by both comrades, led to the "Tuck and Roll" as James calls it.
The night began like all others: a handful of shots here, a few cervezá there. The boys lingered around the only bar open to patrons twenty-four hours of the day. Dim lit by the sparse orange lights, the American named "Sports Bar" (which resembled a modern sports bar as much as the towel hut did, with the exception of rum bottles behind the counter) was populated in the wee hours of the morning exclusively by the young and vibrant like James and Pierce. The details pertaining to this night of partying is a spotty, inconsistent recollection from both boys but I believe I can tie it together.
Pierce bit off more than he could chew, that's for certain, but what James did to try and help sick friend, is hard to rationalize. I guess we'll excuse him though, on account of the booze. After passing the point of no return, Pierce decided to call it a night and make his way back to the room that the two boys shared. He announced this to James, who in his hammered condition, only understood Pierce's words well after he had left the bar. Being the caring friend he was, and once he had grasped the meaning of Pierce's words, James set out to check on him. He thought Pierce had been gone for twenty minutes. He had been preoccupied with other young vacationers at the bar. Suddenly concerned, he ran back to the room as quick as he could to make sure his pal had survived the 600m walk back. He sprinted to the door, swiped the card, and checked an empty room. Had Pierce not made it? Had he found some of the friends they had made that week? Maybe he went to the "disco" dance bar. In all likeliness, James probably misheard his friend back at the bar, but in his drunken state, he knew only that he had to find him. He left the room and blitzed back up the steps to the bar. He ran along the poolside deck and approached a hedge. James had seen this hedge during the day. It separated the pool from a lawned area in front of the "discotech". In other words, a shortcut in the eyes of James. The hedge stood four feet tall and looked as thick as any James had ever seen. The maneuver he imagined was to jump, front flip, and land feet planted on the other side. In the case his acrobatic skills weren't quick enough, at least, in the inverted part of his flip, the hedge would sort of trampoline him up onto his feet... right? He charged the hedge, jumped, cut himself plenty on the completely unsupportive bush, and landed, head first, on not the soft grass he remembered to be on the far side of the hedge, but instead, the three meter section of stone laid in concrete that welcomed him painfully. He moaned and rolled on the grass section for a few minutes, checking if anyone from the outdoor bar had seen his crash. He was safe, and not bleeding, so he returned to his mission. He checked the disco bar, closed; the 24/7 bar, same crowd, no Pierce; and continued his run back the the room a second time, taking a different route. He swiped again and was relieved to see Pierce on the bed.
"How long have you been here?" James asked.
"Not even a minute" Pierce mumbled through the pillow.
Two things could be concluded from this: James sprinted the entire resort before Pierce got back to the room, and so, it took Pierce a safe fifteen minutes to make it from the bar to the bed.
Satisfied, James left to keep the party going with some university friends down at the beach. He would tell Pierce of his elegant "Tuck and Roll" in the morning, joined by a substantial headache.
You're welcome,
B.F. Greenough, aka,
Chief Hanky, The Cocktail Chronicler
