Almost a Dead Ringer

Once upon a time, on the big crescent beach on Marco, a famous rock star came to visit. When he saw the beach, the colorful sailboats, and the job of working with visitors in a beautiful seaside setting, he could not help smiling. The rock star was from Ireland and grew up with the typical weather of northwestern Europe. Anything for him with a tropical climate was indeed a fantasy and quite the opposite from his self-admitted background of childhood poverty and a rugged industrial environment.

Before the rock star said goodbye, he took a final appreciative look at Marco Beach. He then spoke to the Beach Boys and Girls he had befriended and asked a simple question: “Will it be enough—the paradise you have, or will wondering what might have been take away the joy and the beauty? Remember,” the rock star who was the envy of many finalized, “be careful what you wish for because you just might get it!”

The rock and roll celebrities who were so friendly to the Marco Beach crew came in winter, but by summer, the Beach Boys decided a trip to Mexico for scuba diving was a great idea.

The Beach Boys were right. The scuba diving was incredible. After nine days of diving, however, the suggestion to explore the Mayan Riviera nightlife was something no one wanted to miss.

With a full complement of Marco Beach Boys in their very best attire, the overly confident Marco crew was ready for almost anything. The biggest nightclubs, however, were disappointing. The huge clubs were exciting but far too crowded.

The next choice for the Marco Beach Boys was an extravagant restaurant and nightclub where the theme was famous rock stars and rock music. Hanging electric guitars were gleaming under spotlights, a band on a stage was hammering out rock songs, and throughout the massive venue, large photographs in frames were featuring famous musicians. 

An attractive hostess led the Beach Boys to a roomy table in front of the dance floor. The setting was perfect, and the staff watchful and attentive. The table was great with a clear view of the band, and most of the other tables were bustling with rock and roll fans. 

When a beautiful Mexican server made her approach and introduction, it was time to order drinks and food. Chase went first. He was the heavyset beach boy who was always talking, laughing, and ready to handle any situation—even if he had no idea what to do. Carlos was next. He was our Latino beach boy who arranged the entire scuba diving vacation. Carlos was very quick and very clever, and he was the perfect Spanish linguist. Richard came next. He was the dark, handsome, and self-proclaimed ringleader of the group for the entire vacation. “Ring” also had the most money. He was dripping in Mexican Pesos. Slim was after “Ring,” and as his name would suggest, he was tall, thin, and thoughtful. Finally, it was Seth’s turn to order. Seth was another tall and thin hombre from Florida who was neither quiet nor loud, but he had been contemplating at length the wise words from the visiting rock star from the previous winter. After the rock star visit to Marco Beach, Seth clearly began to believe the rock star lifestyle was much better than the role of a beach boy and it was obvious to everyone.

Seth also bore a striking and dead-ringer resemblance to a very famous rock star who was standing in a large and life-size photograph next to where the beach boys were sitting at the upscale, rock and roll Mexican saloon.

After drinks and dinner, the beautiful Mexican server began hovering beside the table. Carlos asked her in Spanish if she had a question, and she answered in the same language. “Is that who I think it is?” She turned to look at the life-size portrait of the rock star and then to Seth.

In the large, framed photograph, the famous musician was wearing black trousers and a white open shirt—just like Seth at the beach boy table. Seth’s hair color and cut were also identical. The musician in the photograph could have easily been Seth. 

Without missing a beat, Carlos answered the girl in Spanish. “Of course, that’s him, but please don’t tell anyone!”

The server gasped, and a torrent of Spanish began flowing between the only two Spanish-speaking people at the table.

When the server departed in a rush, the beach boys were clearly waiting for an interpretation. Carlos knew what was coming and laughed before explaining. “She asked if Seth was the rock star in the photo, and I said yes but don’t tell anyone. I also explained that Chase was his manager, I was the translator, and we all are bodyguards.”

In only moments, the table was awash with fans wanting autographs. After another few minutes, the band stopped playing and came over to ask if Seth would like to sing. Before Seth could stammer “No” or offer a denial to the case of mistaken identity, the very large owner of the nightclub pulled up a chair and nuzzled next to Seth for photographs.

The following torrent of Spanish was unstoppable, but the rapidly growing crowd became menacing when Seth refused to sign autographs.

Richard, the Ringleader sensed the tension, saw the train wreck coming, and rushed outside to hail a taxi. When he returned and quickly whispered the escape plan, the beach boys huddled around Seth and began moving toward the door. When everyone was safe in the taxi, Seth realized that living like a rock star could be much more than anyone would want—especially if you were Almost a Dead Ringer.