B.I.G.

Baxter Davies checked his watch for the third time in five minutes, then carefully unwrapped a cough dropHustenbonbon, -pastillecough drop and to pop sth. into sth.etw. schnell in etw. hineinsteckenpopped it into his mouth. He got so dry when flying and he didn’t want to start coughing when he was on board. People would look at him. He hated that.

“Calling Mr Davies. Will Mr Baxter Davies go to departure gate B81 for Tokyo, please?”

It took a couple of minutes for Baxter to gather his things and hurry over, dropping his passport twice en routeauf dem Wegen route. To his surprise, a tall man was already there, speaking with the airline agent behind the desk. She ignored Baxter as he tried to to catch sb.’s eyejmds. Aufmerksamkeit erregencatch her eye.

“Excuse me,” he said eventually. “I’m Baxter Davies.”

“Baxter!” said the other man, turning to him with a huge smile. Baxter was so surprised he stepped backwards and nearly to trip over sth.über etw. stolperntripped over hiscarry-on bagReisetasche (als Bordgepäck) carry-on bag. “Good to meet you. I asked Stefanie here to call you, because when I was checking in, I found out there were two Baxter Davies on this flight. What a coincidenceZufallcoincidence!”

He put his arm around Baxter’s shoulders and turned to the agent.

“See? We could be twins!” he said. The agent smiled, to acknowledge sth.etw. bestätigenacknowledging the similarity.

“Well, near enough (UK)nahezunear enough. Now, Baxter, you and I need to talk. So, I’ve upgraded your seat on this flight to first class and we’re travelling together.”

“But…” started Baxter.

“No buts! Stefanie is to let sb. onhier: jmdn. an Bord lassenletting us on straight away. Now that we’ve met, I have a proposal…” and his new companionBegleiter(in)companion marched him through the gate and on to the plane that was taking them to Japan.

Apart from a few holiday trips to Spain, Baxter hadn’t travelled much. The only reason he was going to Japan was because he’d won a competitionGewinnspielcompetition in a trade magazineFachzeitschrifttrade magazine for an all-expenses tripAll-inclusive-Reiseall-expenses trip to a huge consumer electronics fairMessefair, the ConTronix.

“You should go, dear,” his mother had said when he asked her what she thought of the idea. “Only, don’t go eating any whaleWalwhales. I watched a nature documentary about it. Very cruel…”

The other Baxter, however, was clearly much travelledweit gereist, viel herumgekommenmuch travelled. But it wasn’t until he’d ordered several cocktails for them both that he explained his proposal.

“Baxter, I’m guessing that, like most people on this plane, you’re going to ConTronix, right?”

Baxter nodded. The cocktails felt good inside him.

“Well, so am I. I’m a motivational speaker and I’m giving a big presentation the day after tomorrow to all the salespeople at ConTronix about my new book. It’s called B.I.G.”

He handed Baxter a copy.

“What do the letters mean?”

“Belief. Imagination. Growth. But I have a problem: tomorrow, my publisherVerleger(in); Verlagpublisher wants me to visit the trade fair and pretend to be interested in consumer electronics, which I’m not. In fact, I’d rather visit a lady friend of mine who lives in Tokyo. So, I had an idea. You take my place for the boring bits — you’re doing that anyway. Then I’ll turn up on day two and do the speech.”

“But won’t they see I’m not you?”

“Oh, not a problem. We’re the same age, roughly the same height and complexionhier: Aussehencomplexion. Everyone knows publicity photographs are to airbrush sth.etw. retuschierenairbrushed. Who is going to to objectEinwände erhebenobject if you say you’re Baxter Davies? And after all, you ARE Baxter Davies. It says so on your passport. This is what we’ll do…”

He waspersuasiveüberzeugend persuasive, and so it was that a very hung-oververkaterthung-over Baxter walked up to a driver holding a sign with his name on it at Narita airport. He waved his passport under the man’s nose and, moments later, was speeding towards the Imperial Palace Hotel in the centre of Tokyo. It was amazing (ifml.)fantastischamazing, Baxter thought, as he was shown to a luxurious suite. It had worked exactly as the other Baxter had said it would.

The next morning, Baxter was collected by the Japanese agent and taken to the trade fair, where he was to treat sb. like royaltyjmdn. wie eine(n) König(in) behandelntreated like royalty. Everybody wanted to shake his hand and ask his opinion, and he began to enjoy himself. In the early afternoon, he returned to the hotel to get ready for the dinner that had been arranged for him. He to run oneself a bathsich ein Bad einlassenran himself a bath in a tubBadewannetub that was about the size of his bedroom at home, and as he relaxed in the delicately scentedfein duftenddelicately scented water, he sighed. It seemed such a pity it was soon going to end.

It was while he was drying off that he first opened B.I.G.

***

“As I say in my book, the key to sales success is belief in yourself,” Baxter told the guests at dinner. “A product and its featureMerkmal, Funktionfeatures are important, but if you don’t believe yourself to be a top salesperson, you don’t have a chance.” He nodded wisely and there was a murmurGemurmelmurmur of agreement from around the table.

“But how do you get that self-belief, Mr Davies?” asked an anxious(ängstlich) gespanntanxious-looking young man in a business suit.

“Imagination,” answered Baxter with confidence. “See yourself how you want to be, love that vision, and you will become that person. It works every time. I remember once when…”

He was the centre of attention for the whole evening, and as he went to bed, Baxter realized that things had to change in his life. Big changes. B.I.G. He was just going to sleep when the phone rang. It was the night manager: “Mr Baxter, sorry to disturb you. There’s a man here at reception who wants to speak to you. I…” There was the sound of the phone being to snatch sth. awayetw. wegreißen; an sich reißensnatched away.

“Baxter, old boy (UK)alter Jungeold boy? This is Baxter!”

It was the other Baxter. He sounded very drunk.

“Tell them to let me upstairs, will you? I need a place to sleep. Got a couple of drinks inside me.”

Baxter thought for a millisecond. “Certainly. Give me the night manager again.” The phone was handed back.

“Reception? I think you’d better call the police. I have absolutely no idea who that person is.”