well...I don’t even know what f-ing day it is but I do know that the devil is a female...and her name is Mama Juana. That being duly noted, I feel it is only appropriate to note that no matter how upset, or drunk, one becomes, it is nearly impossible to stay mad about anything while on an island. Be it a consequence of the heat making everyone lazy or just too hot to care, the end result is the same. 'Island Livin' is just relaxed. Everything is Laize fair and every f'in thing from a dress code to the concept of time, can be considered relative.
Being a relatively responsible person, who usually shows up early for things, I have already resigned myself to the fact that everything down in St Thomas will take twice as long, plans will
be forgotten and no one will care...simply because it’s too f-ing hot. The sun is draining. Son.
Am I having fun? Yes. Seeing a lot of pretty dem gal with fatty pum pum? Absolutely. Could I live like this my entire life? Hell F-ing no. I have officially been here 3 days, been abandoned by our host twice and somehow, without the use of a phone, managed to run into my host while I was drinking Guinness extra Foreign at a bodega with the local Rastafarian sect. I am now affectionately known as 'Tattoo Man' and I prefer to drink the 'Funny' Guinness aka draught.
My friend, however, prefers to drink metrosexual Heineken lights, and this fact has almost successfully gotten him laughed off the island. Tastes are relative but gay is gay. Lol.
We started the trip signing a rental car contract, Heineken in hand, and now as I sit typing inside a speeding car on a dirt road which would be better suited for a third world country, the Heineken is still flowin. I’ve made the keen observation that despite it being too hot to do
anything here, the availability of free flowing non-lite beer is making the island grow on me. Fitted hats routinely come in sizes larger than 8, and button up shirts and basketball shorts are
considered work attire. This Island shit is aiight...relatively. That being said, I’m out son...it’s too f-ing hot to type.
Live, love, opening beers with lighters.