last night

sihanoukeville, cambodia

or, what happens when two americans, two canadians, two tunisians, two indians, an israeli, a spaniard, and some other people socialize.

the neighbors are complaining about the noise. maybe not the noise specifically so much as a hybrid concern regarding the late hour and the aggregate chatter, i don't know. i only know that the owner, a half-swedish half-spanish chap (who really is such a sweet guy), suggests that we move the whole party to blame canada, another establishment he owns that is located right on the beach (and, thus, further away from neighbors who may wish to sleep or relax though i cannot claim to be sure of their exact motivation(s).)

so we all walk to blame canada, almost in unison, and there are a few people already there but it's pretty much everyone from the previous spot (all the aforementioned, of which i am one of the americans, plus another contingent that is not exactly in our group so much as with us as a part of a larger, fractured-albeit-cohesive whole.) of the persons already in the establishment, three are a father/sons group from eastern british columbia, though by their comportment i would prefer to classify them as being from alberta. so i'm playing pool with one of the sons, age around twenty, and he seems pretty nice while the other son is contributing vaguely misinformed, left-leaning political missives in his conversation with the other american (who is from alaska and built his own sauna!) the father looks like meatloaf. the singer, not the meat-based dish. i know the comparison is superficial given that meatloaf (the performing artist) is also from canada, but the father does look like a blonde, late career meatloaf.

some time passes, the way it tends to do, and then the brother i was playing pool with gets pretty close in the face of the owner of the establishments. his countenance, though not clearly visible to me, is pretty stern. the indian guy and i look at each other all like, "why's he gotta be all up in his face, man?" and then people start circling in with different motivations. meatloaf is a little off to the side, but he's clearly a minor catalyst in whatever social tension has been created. soon, the other brother gets right. up. in. the owners face and his eyes are widening and his voice is rising and we are able to discern that the problem, the one creating the strained dynamic, that is, is that the other brother (who has longish hair tucked behind his ears and a wispy goatee) had directed some question of biographical import to the owner and did not receive a response that he deemed socially sufficient. the owner, he of half-swedish half-spanish heritage, is really not looking to instigate or further exacerbate the already deteriorating relations, though he also does not appear eager to cede much of the proverbial right-of-passage to these agents provocateurs in the business which he owns (it's not like he tells this to me or to anyone while i am in earshot, i am merely inferring based upon his demeanor.)

anyway, the rhetoric is escalating and the alberta trio is getting pretty testy and some of us, including the two shirtless bartenders (male), move in to be there in case some punches or other manifestation of violence appear while some others are in the background all like, "whooooa, man, why don't you just chiiiiiiilllll" and "yo, he didn't mean anything by it" and some others, mostly the females, are really disappointed in the entire spectacle and are slowly edging away. at a certain point, i really can't pinpoint it exactly, meatloaf (who doesn't appear to be very outstanding in his stewardship as the father of other humans) begins to attain some perspective, a little insight on the situation at hand, and starts using verbal and light physical means of dissuading his progeny from further escalation of the "static" (that's what my former students in east new york say....so cute!) again, it's not like anything was told directly to me, there really was no conversation, i'm just supposing that meatloaf ran through, silently, the calculus of what would happen were he or his offspring to punch a local business owner in the face in a country where they do not have citizenship. for whatever chinks-in-the-armor meatloaf has, i am really in no position to impugn his powers of persuasion as he is able to guide the two chips-off-the-old block out of the bar. it was said that he would return in the morning to pay the tab.

finally, with that all cleared up, we proceeded to rehash and not rehash the preceding events and enjoy the company of one another in an environment (some call it the vibe) that was still a bit charged (i want to use the word 'ionized' or some other of similar etymological composition, though am not sure if this is germane) but gradually returned to normal until the indian guy started crying because andrea wouldn't forgive him for biting her leg.

long-story short: i changed my bus ticket to stay here for one more night. tomorrow i'm even going snorkeling!