When I was in Haiti, I watched American tourists throw nickels off cliffs to watch five year olds dive for them. They were dangerous cliffs. They were dangerous dives. We are talking the ocean, cliffs, mad waves smacking cliffs, fifteen and twenty foot dives, rocks all the fuck over, and five year olds.
For a nickel.
One of those fat short balding smug Hawaiin shirt wearing nickel throwing bastards said “monkeys.”
It was the first time I saw “The Ugly American.” The first time I was ashamed to be American. The first time I seriously wished harm on another human being. And not just him. His children. His grandchildren. His great great grandchildren. In that moment I made a small prayer to God that his children would have to leap off cliffs into churning awful killing waters for nickels.