Little Big Man

LITTLE BIG MAN – a serial novel by Travis Creel

CHAPTER FIVE: ON THE BOAT

Previously: After winning the title of "Wisconsin's Little Big Man", Alex tells his father, who reacts by commenting, "I guess they didn't find out you killed your brother" (in an accident three years ago when Alex was DUI). He does not tell his new friend Matti (an LBM contestant in neighboring Minnesota) because he feels awkward bragging about his winnings ($25,000 and a trip around the world) when Matti has yet to compete. However, to their mutual delight, Matti wins. Not having been paid yet, Alex is cash poor; to save money he stays over in Matti's hotel room. Their friendship deepens but remains platonic, as both consider themselves straight.

We left Alex days away from flying down to Fort Lauderdale for the national contest, to be held on a boat during the world cruise.

ALEX: SATURDAY, JUNE 4, EVENING – FORT LAUDERDALE, FLORIDA

I'm here in my cabin and don't quite know how to express my feelings. I feel excited, I feel exuberant – and yet something feels off. Just a bunch of little things, starting with the LBMF chauffeur.

He picked me up at quarter after eight this morning. In a limousine, no less. (You should have seen my father's face when he saw that!) When we got to the airport, he stayed with me all the way up to security. I kept telling him he could go, but he said he needed to stay until the plane left, in case there were any delays and I'd need further transportation. It was a cloudless day and the plane was "ON TIME". Oh, well.

Having a chaperone meant I couldn't meet up with Matti until I was past security. But we had about forty minutes together before we had to board. I was in 12A, he was in 25F. Figures. We had just a few minutes in O'Hare before I had to board my connecting flight. His was over an hour later. Why on earth didn't they put us on the same flight?

Arriving in Fort Lauderdale, I was greeted with a large black man holding a sign reading SORENSON. Cool. I'd always wanted to be one of those people important enough to have someone waiting for them with their name on a sign. And now I was.

My escort came equipped with a Jamaican accent and a maroon work uniform with a sewn-on name tag ("Nelson") like a gas station attendant or maintenance worker. We collected my luggage and drove straight to the boat.

The boat is small for a cruise ship. There are several levels but it's nothing like the floating cities run by Carnival and Princess. I had no ticket but a hulking security guard, also maroon-clad, recognized Nelson and admitted us both. The guard – "Robinson" – had me press my palm on some sort of scanner. "Wisconsin," Nelson said and Robinson entered it into a computer.

I saw no other passengers as he led me up a flight of stairs to my cabin. There were maybe thirty rooms along this passageway, and the hallway was so extremely wide and the boat narrow enough that it seemed that all cabins were outside cabins. Good. If this was the fucking national contest, we'd better all have outside cabins. I didn't want to cruise around the world without being able to see it pass by.

My room was the first on the right. The door had an electronic display panel on it, which read "WISCONSIN" in red letters. The one directly across read, "WEST VIRGINIA". Cool – we got our rooms personalized.

There was no doorknob, but when I touched my palm against a pad by the door, it recognized me (from my `registration' by Robinson) and the door opened like magic, sliding into a recess built into the wall. We entered, and the door closed behind us automatically three seconds later.

• To leave the room, just press the palm pad on the wall by the door. It won't recognize any other contestant's palm print – just yours. Any other questions, Wisconsin?

Wisconsin'? I was Mr. Sorenson' before. Another `off' thing. And I found it curious that he said 'any other contestant' instead of 'anyone else'.

• I guess not.

• You better let me out or I'll have to spend the night here. But I warn you, Wisconsin. I snore.

We shared a chuckle and I let him out. I don't know why, but I headed straight for the bed and plopped down on it. And inspected the cabin from a supine position.

It was huge. The queen-sized bed (which seemed luxurious to me, used to a twin) abutted a large picture window that stretched up to the ceiling, looking out on the skyline of Fort Lauderdale. There was a couch, a wingback chair, a writing desk, a dresser, and a well-stocked mini-bar ("Compliments of Little Big Man").

Facing me was a large-screen monitor, bearing a message: "WELCOME TO THE LITTLE BIG MAN CONTEST. PRESS 'SELECT' ON YOUR REMOTE FOR AN INTRODUCTORY VIDEO. I decided that could wait until later.

A short passage, squeezed between a vanity and some closets, led into the bathroom, which was luxurious, all (fake) marble and (fake) gold. No tub, but a walk-in shower, which oddly had no door. Curious, I stepped inside it for a moment and was startled to see a glass door, retracted into the wall, emerge to slide shut behind me. I guess it thought I was going to take a shower and was sealing off the area so that water didn't spray into the bathroom behind me. Smart technology. Of course, there was a palm pad which responded to my touch. I hoped it always worked, or I could get trapped in there.

Yeah, I know, paranoid again. But it was a bit eerie. As was the fact that, aside from Nelson, I had not seen a single person on the boat. I wanted company but Matti had a later flight and wouldn't be here yet. I would have called him but – no cell phones, remember? And I was hungry.

A knock at the door solved one problem: a maroon-clad hulk delivered dinner. And quite a feast it was – roast beef, baked potato, salad, asparagus, raspberry tart, and brewed decaf. I ate robustly and thought maybe Matti had arrived by now; without a phone I'd have to visit in person. So I pressed the palm pad, intending to go in search of a room labeled `Minnesota'.

Nothing happened.

Oh, fabulous. And I had thought technology was cool. A moment later, I heard a ding' behind me – from the monitor. It was flashing the message about playing the video. I didn't want to play the stupid video, I wanted to find Matti. I returned to the palm pad and tried again. Immediately, there was another ding' and then a pleasant baritone voice: "Please play the introductory video at this time."

Annoying. But for some stupid reason there seemed to be a connection between the fact that I hadn't played the video and the malfunction of the palm pad – see what I mean about things being a bit off? I took a deep sigh, comforted myself with a look at Fort Lauderdale with the sun setting behind it, picked up the remote and pressed SELECT.

WELCOME TO THE LITTLE BIG MAN NATIONAL EVENT, it began. After displaying that funky animated lbm logo, it showed a series of attractive short men in various poses – walking along the street, straightening a tie, playing soccer – then dissolved into a talking head, a reassuring older man who looked like he had been hired by central casting.

• GOOD EVENING. CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR STATE VICTORY IN THE LITTLE BIG MAN CONTEST. YOU'RE ABOARD THE CRUISE SHIP FUNDAMENTAL EXPERIENCE, WHICH THE LITTLE BIG MAN FOUNDATION HAS PURCHASED AND MODIFIED FOR THIS EVENT.

'Fundamental Experience'? What kind of name was that for a cruise ship? Nevertheless, it was impressive that the foundation had enough money to buy a whole ship instead of just leasing it for the voyage.

• YOU MAY HAVE NOTICED THERE'S NO TELEPHONE AND NO CLOCK IN YOUR CABIN.

Oh, I hadn't, actually.

• DON'T WORRY – YOU WON'T NEED ONE. WE CAN COMMUNICATE WITH YOU AT TIMES THROUGH THIS MONITOR AND NOTIFY YOU OF ALL TIMED EVENTS. AND THERE ARE PLENTY OF CLOCKS AROUND THE SHIP – INCLUDING THE CORRIDOR OUTSIDE YOUR ROOM.

So you can contact me, but what if I need to contact you? And those clocks in the corridor are of no use if I can't leave the room. Good move, LBMF. (Yeah, that was sarcasm.)

• WE'RE SURE YOU'RE EAGER TO LEARN ABOUT THE CONTEST. BUT WE'D LIKE TO KEEP THE EVENT INTERESTING AND SUSPENSEFUL. SO WE'RE GOING TO ASK ALL CONTESTANTS TO STAY IN THEIR ROOMS TONIGHT. SOME OF YOU MAY HAVE DISCOVERED THIS ALREADY.

Yes, boss, I had discovered that already.

• SO RELAX, WATCH ONE OF OUR DOZENS OF VIDEOS OR JUST WATCH TV. WE'LL SET THE ALARM FOR YOU TO WAKE YOU UP IN TIME FOR BREAKFAST, WHEN YOU CAN MEET YOUR FELLOW CONTESTANTS AND LEARN MORE ABOUT THE CONTEST. BREAKFAST IS AT 7:30 – DON'T BE LATE! WE'LL BE IN INTERNATIONAL WATERS THEN – AND IT WILL BE PARTY TIME! BUT BE PREPARED FOR A FEW SURPRISES!

With that tantalizing but rather mysterious sign-off the video ended. A few surprises? On a whim, I tried the palm pad again, hoping that after I had played the video it would change its mind. Nope.

I guess there were worse things than being locked in a luxurious cruise ship cabin with a free, fully-stocked mini-bar. I helped myself to a Scotch, but kept it to one – I needed to be clear-headed in the morning. It annoyed me that I couldn't meet up with Matti – or even call him – but after all we'd have nearly three months together. The contest would probably be tomorrow night or Monday, and then we could just relax, be ourselves, and see the world.

So I'll put up with a door that locks me in, no phone, and a TV that talks to me. I'm going around the world in just about eighty days, with my new best friend, and it is going to be glorious.

DMITRI: SATURDAY, 4 JUNE, LATE EVENING – FORT LAUDERDALE, FLORIDA

All the little flies have flown to our web. A web so lovely they don't realize yet that they are stuck in it. They will find out soon enough. Some of them tomorrow, the rest Monday. Forty-eight hours from now they will all know just how much trouble they are in.

ALEX: SUNDAY, JUNE 5, MORNING – OFF THE COAST OF FLORIDA

At 6:30 the TV sounded a literal Reveille. As I sat up I found the TV talking to me.

• GOOD MORNING. BREAKFAST IS IN THE DINING HALL ON DECK 3 AT 7:30. YOUR CABIN IS ON DECK 2 SO YOU'LL NEED TO GO ONE FLIGHT UP.

I think I could figure that out, thanks.

• PLEASE LISTEN CAREFULLY TO THE NEXT INSTRUCTION. YOU MAY CONVERSE WITH YOUR FELLOW CONTESTANTS BUT YOU ARE NOT – REPEAT, NOT – TO USE YOUR OWN NAME. YOU ARE TO INTRODUCE YOURSELF ONLY AS WISCONSIN. YOU ARE TO REFER TO OTHER CONTESTANTS ONLY BY THEIR STATE NAME, WHICH WILL BE VISIBLE ON THEIR NAME TAG. DO NOT VIOLATE THIS RULE: TRANSGRESSIONS MAY RESULT IN YOUR DISQUALIFICATION AND A SUBSTANTIAL FINANCIAL PENALTY.

• YOU HAVE 58 MINUTES TO SHOWER, SHAVE, DRESS AND REPORT TO THE DINING HALL. DO NOT BE LATE.

Well, I didn't know what I thought about that. There was something more than a little Kafkaesque about all this. I can't use my name – I have to call myself `Wisconsin' (like Nelson had done yesterday)? What the hell was up with that? And if I do, it could cost me some of my $25,000?

Come on, Alex, why so nervous? This was one of their `surprises'. They obviously want to introduce a few quirks into the contest and probably have designed some ice-breaker to help us get to know the other 51 guys. We're going to be together awhile, plenty of time to learn names. Think of this as a game, not a contest. Who knows what they have in store for us? It's an adventure, Alex, get with the program!

The view out my window was nothing but ocean. We were out to sea all right, probably in international waters, where, Drew Simmons had said, the real partying began, with alcohol and strippers. I'm not sure bedding a stripper was something I wanted to do – seemed a little seedy – but some beer and camaraderie would be just fine.

I showered, draped a towel around my waist and shaved. Being alone, there was no reason to wrap a towel around my waist like I did when I was around other guys in the dorm. But I was used to it, plus I didn't really like to be naked. It felt more comfortable shaving and brushing my teeth wearing a towel than standing in front of the sink bare-assed.

At breakfast I was welcomed by a mammoth who looked like he'd just spent fifteen years in the slammer for felonious assault. He was dressed in maroon, like Nelson and Robinson. The label on his shirt pocket read `Joey.' He looked like a Joey. A Joey from New Jersey.

• Pick out your nametag, please. You are?

• Wisconsin.

He smiled at my compliance of the rules. He stood by a table filled with a set of hard plastic headbands. Each had a display strip across the front where the state name appeared in white against a black background. He found 'Wisconsin' and applied a substance he squeezed from a tube to the inside of the headband. Then he fit it onto my head, pressing hard on the spot where the goop was.

• Okay, now don't remove this. It needs to stay on your head twenty-four/seven.

• What, when I'm sleeping?

• When you're sleeping, showering, swimming, eating, doing contest stuff, anything.

• Why?

• That way everybody knows who you are. And remember, that's the only name you go by until we tell you otherwise. And don't ask anyone else for their real name either, or it will cost you.

Very Kafkaesque. And, of course, he hadn't answered my question.

DMITRI: The `goop' would take a few minutes to harden, but then would adhere so tightly – stronger than super-glue – that it would remain affixed to the boys' heads for the whole journey. Waterproof as well. And it had more purposes than identification.

ALEX: There were four long tables parallel to the sides of the ship, like in a school cafeteria. I spotted Matti near the far end of the third table. Another guy was next to him but there was a spot directly across. It was great to see him but I had wished I didn't have to share him with a stranger.

From his headband, I saw that Matti's companion was 'Alabama'. Alabama had chestnut brown hair that hung slightly over his ears and collar, thick eyebrows, and hazel eyes. He was almost baby-faced; his chin looked like it needed a razor about once a month. He was no taller than me, I judged, perhaps an inch shorter.

• Hi, I'm Wisconsin, which you know already. It's weird introducing yourself when everyone can read it off your forehead. (to Matti) I actually know your real name, but I guess I'm not allowed to use it. It's going to be weird calling you Minnesota.

• (Alabama) You guys know each other?

• (Matti, with a smile) We do.

He explained about how we had met during a diving competition and discovered that we had both entered the Little Big Man contest when we had gone for our physicals.

• (Alabama) Jeez Louise, that physical! They took pictures of me nekkid.

• (Matti, jovially imitating Alabama's accent) They took pictures of ever-body nekkid. I don't know why, an' I don't care. I'm here for the advencher of a lifetime, that's what it said in that there BRO-sher.

• (Alabama, grinning at the gentle ribbing) Yeah, I guess. Seems weird though. I had this Arab doctor who kept me nekkid for a lot longer than I thought he needed to.

• Yeah, ours was Middle-Eastern, too. What was his name, Ma – Minnesota? Hassan, something like that.

• (Matti) Haddad.

• (Alabama) Mine was Aziz. What do you think of this set-up?

We chatted like that for a while, and were joined a few minutes later by Colorado, a brunet with a build so slight it made me wonder how he had emerged past the Speedo round. He arrived at 7:33, the next to last to arrive, but most guys had been careful to be on time.

The assembled herd was more ethnically diverse than I was used to seeing in northern Wisconsin. Majority white, of course, but there were about a dozen African-Americans and a sprinkling of Latinos and Asians.

They brought out mounds of food – eggs, sausages, pancakes, melon, muffins, cereal – and let us serve ourselves. I ate heartily – breakfast was always my biggest meal of the day; it helped keep me fit to do it that way.

At 8:00 precisely, a screen descended from the ceiling and they showed the same video of Drake Belsen that they had shown at the state contest. I remembered most of it, and remembered being struck by the fact that they never interviewed him; you never even heard him talk. There were moments where he was in obvious conversation with a professor or his parents, but it was all overlaid with music or the voice-over.

Curious that they would repeat it, but maybe they hadn't shown it at all the state contests.

The film was followed by another film, an orientation to the ship. It took us through the various levels of the Fundamental Experience – the awkwardness of that name stuck me once again. Down below were the ship's engines, storage spaces for supplies, cabins for the crew, and the medical facilities. That deck was off limits unless we needed a doctor. The engines, they assured us, were powerful enough that we could make good speed even though we were not a large ship.

The next two levels – Decks 2 and 3 – had cabins from the middle of the ship to the aft. Two of the four regional sections were housed on each level – South and Midwest on Deck 2 and East and West on Deck 3. The fore section of Deck 2 contained a lounge and a recreation room. The fore section of Deck 3 contained the dining hall, where we were now, and an outdoor sunning area. Above us was Deck 4, also called the Sea Deck, which contained a large gymnasium and an open-air swimming pool toward the bow. It wasn't Olympic sized, but it was larger than I expected it to be and I was eager to try it out. Above the gymnasium was the bridge, as well as quarters for the ship's senior crew and for the Little Big Man VIP's, which I presumed meant the judges. An impressive ship which I was looking forward to exploring. It had been frustrating being cooped up in my cabin all night.

After the second film, a black man with a smooth, face-hugging beard that perfectly suited his handsome face walked purposefully to the front of the room. He was borderline close to being short enough to be a contestant, but he was wearing a suit, and looked to be in his upper twenties.

He introduced himself as DeJuan Brooks, welcomed us, and told us what a great adventure lay ahead. He was sure we were anxious to know about the contest. But first he introduced the cruise's organizers, whom he identified simply as Thomas, Peter, John, and Richard, as if they had no last names. Initially, I didn't take much notice of them. They were all between 35 and 45, and looked like – businessmen.

DMITRI: Thomas, Peter, John and Richard were, of course, Sergei, Boris, Yuri and Dmitri, respectively. But we weren't about to reveal our true identities – or our nationality – this early in the game. Since all of us had accents, we let DeJuan be our spokesman.

ALEX: Then he acknowledged the captain and his crew, the mechanics, the cooks and the support staff like Joey whom we would see in maroon uniforms. And he introduced the doctors, three of them – one of whom was Dr. Haddad! I couldn't believe my eyes. I had assumed he was just a local doctor they had contracted out physicals to, but here he was at the national contest!

And they had a medical facility "second to none on any boat on the face of the earth". It even contained a fully-functional operating room, in case anyone required surgery during the voyage.

We had to laugh at that. Surgery, really? A bunch of young, athletic dudes? I suppose appendicitis was possible, but this seemed like overkill.

The three doctors were all male and looked to be of Middle-Eastern origin. I quietly asked Alabama if his doctor was among them, but he shook his head no.

Finally, Brooks started to talk about the contest. His speech went something like this.

• (Brooks) I'm sure you're all curious why I haven't mentioned the judges, and you haven't seen anyone who looks like they might be a judge.

• (somebody, shouting) Yeah, someone with boobs!

Which got some guffaws.

• (Brooks) Well, the truth is, there aren't any judges.

• (a stunned silence)

• (Florida, according to his nametag, a nice-looking Latino) What do you mean, there aren't any judges? How can you have a fucking contest without any judges?

• (Brooks, impishly) You'll find out.