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My Kind of Town Don Chapman |
Splitsville
>> Waikiki
The identity of the hotel shall remain anonymous, on account of guests generally feeling that armed foreign secret agents stealthing about do not enhance the overall vacation experience, but let's just say the second Lama Jey Tsong Khapa's stunt double and his retinue had a fabulous view of the ocean and Diamond Head that evening, and that the service was superb.
Despite having a driver who they believed was Te-Wu, the limo ride from the Blaisdell Arena to the hotel had gone smoothly, largely because of the HPD motorcycle escort, of which officer Quinn Ah Sun was proud to be a part. At that moment, in fact, an official of the Chinese government was making formal protests to the mayor for the "official" motorcade, to the governor for her presence earlier at the Blaisdell, and to the State Department, reminding all that the U.S. had recognized Tibet as a legal state of China, and that the Dalai Lama and his "clique" were "splitists" trying to tear apart the Chinese union. This, of course, flew in the face of historical fact, but the Communist leadership was relentless on every front in fighting the war to destroy Tibetan culture and religion.
The retinue included Rimpoche Rimshot and the monk Lawang, who'd retired earlier to another room, weary after a long day of travel. Now the young would-be lama welcomed visitors, actually other members of the Free Tibet Warrior Society, including one in orange mendicant robes, who if asked would testify he was inspired by the young lama to become a monk and pursue his Buddahood.
They'd called room service, ordered burgers, fries and banana splits -- splitists, indeed! -- and soon heard a knock. The orange-robed one opened the door and with a bow welcomed in two waiters -- one carrying a platter of fruit, the other bearing tea and cakes -- and recognized both as members of Te-Wu. He showed them into the suite.
"A special gift, including a special blend of Darjeeling from India in your honor, your holiness," one said. "Would you like me to pour it now?"
"Please," the imitation lama said. He too recognized the waiters from photos provided by their colleague who'd infiltrated the Chinese police.
"Honor me, please, by enjoying the first sip."
"No, thank you. I'm not allowed."
"I will speak with your manager. I'm sure he'll be compassionate." Hotel management, of course, would know nothing about him or the special Darjeeling. "Well, in that case," Doo Wop said. He poured a second cup for himself.
"No," the lama said as the one in orange pulled a Glock 9mm from the folds of his robes, "try my cup.
"And you," he said to the other, "please sample these lovely melons."
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Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek. His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin. He can be e-mailed at dchapman@midweek.com