Mr. White’s Resort

By Emily Louise Rua

Mr. White stood next to the model of his resort. His goatee was sharply pointed, his suit neatly pressed, and, of course, this presentable presentation was topped with a fine boater hat. He wore a smile, his friendliest yet – though if you looked in the corner of his left eye, right where it creased when he blinked, you could see a glimmer of the truth behind it all. Mr. White always stood with his right side to the audience.

The model of the resort sat atop an immaculately white podium, illuminated from above by a single spotlight. Even in this small scale, one could see the architectural marvel these buildings would soon become. The entrance to the resort stood tall and welcoming, a white even brighter and cleaner than the podium it rested on. There were arches and atlases, parapets and a porte-cochère, columns and copulas, and a lemon- yellow stone molding to line each element. It was opulent and awesome, yet had a strange allure that invited you to explore further comforts within. Even as a model, Mr. White’s resort beckoned you inside its oddly enticing doors.

Past the main entrance and lobby stood the resort’s various areas of attractions and amenities, each its own color – a clever theming Mr. White insisted upon personally. Mr. White personally insisted upon every aspect of the resort, though this fact does nothing but reinforce that Mr. White himself picked this theme. The hotel stood like the palace from Arabian Nights in a majestic indigo. Every inch shaped and curved – absolutely no jarring angles or incitant scenery, creating a seamless haven for repose. Each room would be spacious, with no less than one king-size bed. It was best not to look upon this model for long, as its miniature somnolent exterior could almost lull one into a drowsy state.

In a bright delectable orange the food court and gift shop area could not be missed. Even in miniature, one could see the detailed hodgepodge of buildings – pagodas for the Chinese noodle house, a leaning Tower of Pisa atop the Italian pizzeria, an Eiffel Tower above a Parisian café, and a mini Statue of Liberty at the entrance of the burger joint. Spattered amidst the restaurants were the gift shop façades, with neon signs already touting “sales” and “great deals”. Buttons and bobble heads, snow globes and sunscreen, knick-knacks and more would be found in the gift shops once built. All these structures led to a massive eatery at the far end of the area – an all-you-can eat buffet for guests who could not choose just one place to dine. A mouth-watering display, if Mr. White could say so himself – and he did, every time he described the area to an audience.

Now, trinkets and burgers could entice some, but many of the guests of Mr. White’s fine resort would be of a higher caliber, expecting the finest of luxury and exclusivity. To the left of the orange food court, atop a hill, stood the elite, members-only pool and gym. A royal violet was the color that defined this section; the pool floor was violet, as were the chair covers, the free weights, the changing rooms, the pool-side bar, the towels, the treadmills, the Pilates mats, and the flowers (plastic in the model, but Mr. White assured all buyers that all flora would be real and meticulously maintained once the resort was built). Only VIPs and the most special of guests would be able to set foot in this majestic retreat overlooking the rest of the resort. A common pool would be built for the masses somewhere else on property, though as everyone in the room with Mr.White was surely elite enough to enter this exorbitant expanse, no one quite cared to discern where.

Only a short walk away from the pool – judging by the model’s scale – was the high-end shopping center. Made entirely from green-tinted glass, guests could gaze into every store, drool at the luxury, and – if anyone could afford it – even buy an item or two from only the best and most sophisticated designers. Prada, Gucci, Chanel, Armani – a designer would sell their soul (though Mr. White was not one for such figures of speech) to be able to be included with these elite retailers – and the guests would feel just as lucky to be able to see such grandeur.

On the opposite side of the model resort stood the most vibrantly red sports & recreation center one had ever seen. Sporting events of every type would occur daily; from fencing to football, boxing to basketball – every fan would be able to root for their sport and their team, and, of course, boo their opponents. The bloodier the better – all sports would be full contact and no holds barred. The Greek-style coliseum would incorporate every amenity the modern sports fan could desire: sectioned seating to divide rival fans, betting stations for those who like to up the ante on their experience, and of course shops to buy team merchandise. Even the athletically inept could enjoy competitions, with special board gaming rooms filled with such classics as Monopoly, Risk, and Diplomacy. Atop the massive coliseum a crimson-colored bar would freely serve winners and fans of the day’s winning teams. Losers could only gaze at the celebrations from afar; no consolation prizes. Mr. White believed man’s drive to outperform an opponent was one of the most natural things in the world, and he never missed an opportunity to forge at least a little friendly competition.

Now, one thing few could accuse Mr. White of was misunderstanding the desires of his customers – and the few who did accuse him of such were undoubtedly wrong. Not all guests are as enthusiastic about competition as Mr. White; some prefer other things to do, and Mr. White would happily provide other vices. To the right of the sports stadium a navy blue cluster of small buildings stood down a single strip of road. This Entertainment District would include a wide variety of enticingly exciting venues. Couples could re- ignite their passions while dancing romantically close at one of the many dance halls or by cuddling in a darkened movie theater. Singles could seek out companionship in the hottest nightclubs and bars, or visit special speed-dating venues. Strip clubs and more exotic faire would also be dispersed throughout the area, for those customers who were more willing to shed their angelic façade. Entertainment and passion, pleasures and pastimes, this area would promote carefree fun and indulgence.

One area left to explore, though the investors were already all but throwing their money at Mr. White’s feet. Such meetings were never much of a gamble for Mr. White – he always made sure the odds were in his favor (and he always had an ace up his sleeve for emergencies, though no one dare accuse him of such). With all that said, it is no surprise that next to entertainment district Mr. White planned to construct a golden high- rise casino. Guests would have the chance to win big on thousands of different slot machines and dealer tables. Their ticket to the high life and having it all, massive jackpots would soon lure a multitude of guests through the lemon-yellow doors. With convenient ATMs, tellers, and credit guests could pursue their dream of wealth to their heart’s content. Mr. White was certainly never going to discourage anyone from such a gallant pursuit.

All in all the resort seemed like it would easily return all investments and then some, which made the investors practically salivate. Yachts, mansions, large Jacuzzis, big-breasted blondes half your age – they all require wealth to both acquire and maintain, a fact the investors knew well. By all calculations they could expect a return on their investments in mere weeks after opening (and receive the keys to their new Ferraris only a few days after). Without even batting an eyelash the men signed Mr. White’s contract and wrote their more than generous checks – after all, the road to the resort couldn’t be solely paved with good intentions.

The presentation was over. Mr. White showed the investors to the exit and turned off the lights. The bulldozers would be called that evening and ground would be broken the next day. For a brief moment Mr. White allowed the glimmer of truth in his left eye to spread to the deviant smile across his thin lips. Soon we’ll all see Mr. White’s resort.

And we’ll never leave.