The interaction started while we were looking out on this beautiful, picturesque view of a tributary off Rio Dulce in northeastern Guatemala. The water is calm most of the time, save for the occasional passing dinghy, lancha, or sea-doo. 

Suddenly this chunky shirtless white guy appeared on the nicest inflatable dinghy I think I’ve ever seen. It was very clean, green and white. It had a lot of fancy technology on it. 

He streaked past us on his dinghy, then doubled back a few minutes later and locked eyes with me. “You must be Irish!” he shouted to me from probably 30 feet away on the water. Right, because red hair = Irish.

He pulled up closer and asked where we were from. 

“California and Missouri,” said Phil. 

“Ah, not Irish, then. Well, I’m from a long way’s farther out than you. I’m from New Zealand, but I’ve spent the last decade living in Canada.” 

Then he shifted his focus back to my hair. “Your hair’s not actually red, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” I responded warily. 

Then he asked the rude question you should never ask any individual: “Well, why do you dye it?”

“Because I like it,” I responded.

“Well, I like green,” he said, gesturing to the green stripes on his dinghy, “but I don’t dye my hair that color.”

“Well, there’s some inspiration for you then,” Phil responded quickly. 

Judging a random woman’s appearance to her face: strike one.

Phil and I have this agreement between us about dealing with difficult people that dates back to July 4, 2020, when we were visiting my Aunt and Uncle at their lakehouse on the southern border of Missouri. I was concerned that there would be a lot of pandemic denial and right-wing political preaching folk that would interact with us there. I am prone to arguing with these people and ruining everybody’s good time. So we agreed that if we ended up in conversation with any of these people and things started to get tense, Phil would take the lead in conversation, and I would “just swim away.” (We were hanging out in a lake all day drinking, of course.) And when you swim away on a lake, nobody questions it because you’re likely taking a piss. 

We discovered that this agreement worked really well that day after getting into a conversation with a German immigrant who was complaining about immigrants ruining Germany. Phil took over the conversation, I swam away, and everything was fine. 

We have kicked this agreement into action numerous times since that instance. (Believe it or not, there are lot of assholes around the world who love to volunteer information to us about just how much of an asshole they are). However, swimming away is considerably more difficult on land. So when I cannot “swim away,” Phil takes over the conversation as usual and I use every ounce of energy in my body to not explode. 

In this particular case, with this New Zealander, I could not swim away. I was on land in a hotel, and this guy had tied off his boat right in front of us. So I tried my best to sit through whatever shit would come out of this guy’s mouth next. 

He asked about our travels and Phil launched into the explanation we give everybody about how we travel pandemic-consciously since we, as travelers, are the X factor for spreading disease to communities we don’t belong to. 

“What pandemic? What’s COVID?” he asked sarcastically. “That’s just like the flu, isn’t it?”

“Oh boy,” said Phil under his breath. 

Pandemic minimizer: strike two.

The Kiwi told us he was double vaxxed and boosted but went on to explain that he thought government mandates and restrictions were “bullshit.” 

Then he started talking about how he was “extremely wealthy.” I’ve never heard anyone call themselves “extremely wealthy” before. Probably because if one is extremely wealthy, it’s tacky and rude to tell strangers you are “extremely wealthy.” 

But this explained the dinghy he was sitting in, which he bragged he was able to cut production costs for since he had it made in China. 

“You guys really had an opportunity with Trump in the States. He was really going to make things better. I really liked him, but then he had to go open his big stupid mouth and make everything worse for himself. It’s really too bad.” 

And there it is. Trump supporter: strike three.

I began to glaze over at this point. This guy sucked, and everything else that came out of his mouth made me hate him more. This conversation was headed for a quick downward spiral.

This man associated wealth with intelligence and entrepreneurship with “superintelligence.” He said most people are stupid, and that’s why they don’t have any money. He told us he doesn’t trust banks anymore, so he’s invested millions in cryptocurrency. 

He talked to us about his catamaran sailboat, and in an attempt to build some quickly diminishing common ground, Phil shared that we were looking for a monohull sailboat. 

“A monohull?” he asked with an incredulous tone. “I don’t know why anyone would get a monohull.” 

For reference, a catamaran is two hulls. A monohull is a regular sailboat – the most common kind of sailboat. Two hulls are more expensive than one hull.

Phil responded, “Well, not all of us have money to afford a catamaran. Monohulls are what is in the budget for us.”

Not knowing how to respond to the fact that we are poorer than him, the Kiwi changed the subject. It was a very one-sided conversation. The vibe was, “I’m a Boomer, and I know better than you, so let me hand out some unsolicited advice to you poor Millennials that I know nothing about.”

Then he told us there’s a documentary about him that was narrated by the same narrator who did Lord of the Rings. (I tried to find the documentary, but I couldn’t. So either he’s a liar, or he’s not as important as he thinks he is.)

At a certain point, I couldn’t take it anymore, and I needed to take a bathroom break. I hated the guy, and I was grateful that my bladder was demanding a respite from this conversation. 

Phil explained to me later that while I was gone, he tried to pitch the Kiwi on the cannabis investment company we work with. The guy wouldn’t shut up about how rich he is, so he figured, why not take a shot at channeling that wealth into a business that’s paying us? It would be like compensation for suffering through a conversation with this scumbag.

“No, cannabis is stupid.” he apparently responded. But of course, all he knew was the Canadian cannabis market, which was terribly managed since it was legalized in 2018. He did not know, nor did he care to learn, that California alone has a bigger cannabis market than Canada and that the market is in the perfect stage for investing. Oh, well. His loss. Guess he’s not that superintelligent. 

When I returned from the bathroom, I could tell the conversation had only gotten worse since I left.

“What’s wrong with a man being with a woman?” he was asking Phil as I sat down. “Men and women need each other.” He was in the middle of explaining to Phil why he didn’t understand queerness.

It was par for the course that this guy was a homophobic bigot. 

Phil pushed back. “What’s wrong with a man being with a man? Or a woman being with a woman? If they bring fulfillment and joy to one another’s lives, then what’s the problem?”

This Kiwi obviously didn’t know I am bisexual; otherwise, I’m sure he’d manage to find something insulting to say about that. 

But then he said something to Phil that I laughed hard about later: “You know, I’m going to share an observation about you. I think you’re pretty radical. You’re kind of extremist with your beliefs.” 

This was coming from the guy who bragged about being “extremely wealthy” while sitting in what I’m fairly certain was the most expensive dinghy in Rio Dulce. This was coming from a Kiwi who thought that everyone who wasn’t rich was stupid, that Trump was a great US president, that COVID was an overblown hoax, and that gay people shouldn’t be together. And he was calling Phil the extremist. 

The funniest part of this Kiwi’s accusation of Phil’s extremism is that between Phil and me, I am undoubtedly the more “extreme.” I’m a leftist activist, I flirt with Marxism, and I hold a deep resentment for anyone who supports Trump – especially non-US Americans who have exactly 0 skin in US politics. 

All he knew about me was that I was a 29-year-old from Missouri and that I dyed my hair red because Phil and I had opted to follow our “swim away” agreement. 

At this point, the Kiwi had been talking to us for so long that the sun had gone down, and the mosquitoes were out. I had never been more grateful for mosquitoes in my life. 

“Ah, the bugs are out. I guess it’s time to head home.” said the Kiwi. 

I shot Phil a glance of immense relief. 

“Alright, well, nice talking to you. Safe travels,” said Phil. 

And the Kiwi turned on his dinghy outboard motor and took off without saying goodbye. 

I tried to Google him afterward. He was dropping enough hints that he wanted us to find him. But I came up short (and I searched for far longer than I’d care to admit). 

Moral of the story: Nowhere is safe from the worst people in the world. 

They are out here floating around out here in remote locations, making rude comments to a stranger about her hair and telling strangers how they are “extremists” for wanting queer people to date whoever they want.  

And if Phil and I suffered through a conversation with this guy, imagine how much more Guatemalans suffer having to talk to this asshole. When people like this come to take advantage of countries that have been historically pillaged and colonized, everybody around them suffers. Like this Kiwi shared with us, “they can live like kings.” These kinds of rich people aren’t interested in improving anyone else’s life but their own. 

I still haven’t figured out a better way to deal with people like this other than the “swim away” agreement. But when y’all are finally ready to overthrow border-hopping, tax-avoidant, asshole capitalists like this, I’ll be here waiting with my fork and knife.