How I Became an Emir

Isla Mujeres is an island about fifteen clicks from Cancun. At this time it was a hundred years from CC. A nice place with two story Mexican style hotels and curb side restaurants and as long as you didn’t long for beef, pork of veal, a fine place to enjoy the sea food and chicken. But the real lure for the island was SCUBA diving and snorkeling. This is about the second and Garafon, a beach area at the northern end of the second longest reef in the world. But first the circumstances. We, Marilyn and I are having dinner and there’s two young ladies sitting next to us. So close we hear that they’re disgusted by Mexican men trying to break into their room every night. We interfere and tell them to change hotels. To get out of the only multi-tired hotel and move into a tourist compound that is walled and has armed guards as well. So they do this and the next day we meet them out at Garafon, and now the tale gets going.

I rent a space, fifty cents per person per day. It keeps the riff-raff out, and the four of us take a dip. Their names are long forgotten so let’s call the Scottish lass, Helen, the Belgium babe Louise and add that the first had lovely red hair and the second was a typical blonde. We all get back from the swim about the same time and a waiter comes and takes our order. Then the girls spread out on mats and I flop under the umbrella. Drinks come, I pay and after they are drained, we have another, one of them pays. So goes the afternoon between more snorkeling.

The next day, more of the same. Except that for a brief time I am alone and decide I’m going to go to the bar. Our regular waiter comes over as I get a beer and asks if he can ask me a question. He’s not going to do that. Instead he claims the staff has figured out who or what I am. So having already been mistaken for Both Kenny Rogers, and Garcia of the guitar, I am amused enough to bite.

‘Sir, we know you are an Emir.’ That’s a guy in charge of a little plot of land in the Middle east that’s loaded with oil, and who is usually richer than sin! ‘ They are your wives, yes?’ Oh my! This is just too good to resist. I lean forward, speak almost in a whisper and ask him to not tell anyone, and I will see he is rewarded when I leave. He winks and nods, with visions of hundred dollar bills floating by his shaggy eyebrows.

So I go back and when the ladies come out of the water and are stretched out at my feet, I let them in. For a second, Marilyn thinks I’m telling another wild tale, but then the waiter comes and addresses me as Your Eminence, and she almost chokes. The other two are too stunned to do anything but gasps. Once the guy is out of ear shot they have a hissy-fit as they decide this could be the funniest gag they’ve ever been linked with.

So for the next three days, I am pampered! I can’t even pick up my towel! They spread out like a three course meal at my feet. I’m in some kind of Riefner heaven! Different waiters drop by. I should have charged admission! But I do have some fun informing our main guy that they are not my wives. Just a few of the concubines I take when I need a rest from "husbandly" obligations back at the palace. He winks and whispers that I must be the luckiest man on earth and I assure him, I am one of them. And so it goes until we’re cutting out.

The last day We gave him a forty dollar tip. At 8,000 Pesos, he was too happy for words. Being The Bear, I dropped my bomb. I told him I was just a teacher, Marilyn was my true love and exactly who the other two were. Then he bombed me! ‘ Sir, maybe you are what you say. But here you will always be the Emir. And your ladies will always be the most beautiful women we have ever seen.