The Hawaiian Cowboy

In a semi-crowded honky-tonk, there is a sense of release. It is a Friday night, and people are happy to be out. No work in the morning does that to people. The patrons are drinking like there is no tomorrow. A talented band is on stage playing its heart out in front of a dancing public.

A man is positioned at the heart of the dancefloor. He is wearing jeans and a Hawaiian shirt with the top 3 buttons loose, complimented by cowboy boots and a brown suede cowboy hat. Oh, and he's dancing.

He is not the best dancer in the world, but there’s no telling him that right now. In a place where everyone is loose, he’s the loosest. In a place where everyone is fun, he’s the most fun. He could be the life of the greatest party of all time. He gives so few fucks, he’s taking them.

Veronica looks on from the second-floor balcony of our honky-tonk. She knows there’s a band playing, other people partying, and her friends are scattered throughout the establishment talking the ear off whoever listens. She knows all of this, but she can only focus on the man at the heart of the dancefloor. His spirit makes her smile.

She walks down the steps onto the main floor, makes her way over to the crowded bar, and waits her turn to place an order.

A man yells behind her, "Two shots of tequila! Pronto!" Veronica turns around; it’s him, the Hawaiian Cowboy.

"Hey, I was in front of you," says Veronica, unable to come up with anything clever.

"Want to do a shot?" he asks back.
"What?"
"A shot. Oh, it's really simple. See, the bartender pours you some alcohol into these real small glasses and you just take them to the fucking dome."
"I know what a shot is."
"Great! So you're in. Alan 2 shots of tequila, pronto!"

"Three,” replies the bartender. I'm doing this one with you guys." He pours out three shots of Patron tequila.

"L’chaim!" yells the Hawaiian Cowboy. The three of them take their shots like champions.

"You're wild," says Veronica.
"Life's wild, I just try to live."
"Why does it seem like you've got it all figured out?"
"Huh?"
"I've been looking at you for the past 30 minutes, your dancing, your aura, your energy. No fear, no hesitation, all id. How do you do that?"
"So, you've been checking me out?" the Hawaiian Cowboy says as he moves closer and puts his hand on her waist.
"Yes!" She can’t help but smile. "Answer the question."
"Honey, we're here to party and you want me to wax poetic?"
"Yes."

"Life's a bitch and then you die, that's why I get high, because you never know when you're gonna go."
"Nas?"
"When you accept that life is mostly just suffering and hard work with fleeting moments of pure joy then you learn that the only thing that really matters in life is belief."
"Belief?"
"Belief. It's the only thing that's going to get you from where you are to where you want to go. In every room, there is usually only one person who knows that the fuck they are doing. I'm that person. I believe that, and that's all that matters."

"So tell me, where do you want to go?”
"Huh?"
"Well Mr. Belief, if belief is the thing that's going to get us to where we want to go, we have to figure out where that is first. Where do you want to go?"
"Well, all this talking has me quite tired, I think it's time for me to return to my hotel room...would you care to join me?"

"I'm not going to be that easy!"

He smiles and puts both of his hands on her waist.
"Like I said, life is nothing but suffering and hard work..."

She smiles and puts her arms around his neck.
"With fleeting moments of pure joy."

They kiss.