Having just written a post on how I lived cheaply in CR, I thought I would talk about the other extreme. Calvin Ayre is a Canadian businessman who lives mostly in Costa Rica, and is worth over $1 billion.
http://www.forbes.com/lists/2006/10/GCUD.html
His business makes money mostly from sports gambling, but he calls it a "lifestyle brand," and promotes different events, tv shows, and even clothing all with an endless supply of "hot" women and his omnipresent middle-aged mugshot.
I should start by saying that I'm jealous of him for acting out the international playboy businessman role for my successfully than myself and maybe anyone else ever well. And for figuring out how to profit (quasi-legally) off the retardedness of the average American male.
Anyway, just one of the dude's houses here has "9 bedrooms, 17 bathrooms, four bars including one swim-up bar." He has at least one bulletproof Hummer. He dates a new model every week, including a fair amount of Costa Rican ones (according to Costa Rican gossip TV.)
With this in mind I decided to go to one of his parties a few months back to see if I could screw with him.
Let me clarify, I was NOT invited to his party; actually it was a "charity event" to celebrate his foundation's plans in Central America. (He's giving away a few million dollars, which is to say less than 1% of his fortune.)
I have a lot of friends in non-profits down here. I give a decent amount of money to charity work in Central America too, not millions of dollars, but a lot more than 1% of my money. Anyway I was the "date" of a 40 year old charity administrator (her husband didn't want to go). Also attending was a younger guy I know who works for the PANI.
I desperately wanted to walk up to Ayre and ask him HOW is it POSSIBLE that a billion dollar company forgets to reregister it's own domain name ("bodog.com") and has to make up new, even worse names ("bodoglife.com," "bodog nation") instead of getting it back. That is one of the f*cking funniest things I can imagine happening to a guy who's built an entire brand around his face and a stupid word.
I thought either A) I will get kicked out of his party, great story, or B) maybe he will start talking with me, appreciate my humor, and invite me back to one of his palaces to get an early look at the Miss Costa Rica contestants in his hot tub.
The guy from PANI thought it would be funny. I didn't tell my date (I figured she could just pretend not to know me later.)
Anyway, there was a very nice spread of fruits and cold cuts, and free booze. I chatted to some vacuous 30 something "professional publicists" with fake boobs. (I guess that's what they call event planners here.) I talked to a model who gave out brochures and stood in front of a big stand about the foundation's work building schools and asked her how much money she got to do that. (THIRTY-FIVE BUCKS. FOR THE WHOLE DAY!)
His foundation mostly gave out money to vaguely laudable "youth initiatives" in the US, like the LA Lakers Youth Center or whatever, that just seem like cheap publicity stunts to me. Now he is doing a little better, helping schools and doing a few "Ch*ld sponsorship" type programs for poor rural families. Okay, good for him, he probably had to hold back on his latest helicopter purchase or whatever.
Finally, the guy makes an appearance and says a few words. He looks really slick, always half smiling no matter what he says or is told. I put my fist to my mouth... "Cough, cough, douchebag! Cough!" No laughs from my peers.
I watched and waited but the guy just shook hands and took pictures with bureaucrats ofor the next 20 minutes. I started to feel it would be pretty inappropriate for me to try and make a scene given the context. I pussied out and settled for getting drunk off his free wine.
I went home lying to myself that he must be secretly depressed and empty inside, and that he must be using all those models to cover up for the fact that he's gay.
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