06-16-2014, 09:24 AM
I took a few moments in my room to enjoy the AC for a bit and just kind of relax, and the next thing I knew it was raining pretty well. When it dried up a bit, I headed down the hill to Canoe. Some of the folks I saw there where Charlie and his new friend Tony Braxton (whom he had met at the airport in Baltimore and – by coincidence – ended up being neighbors at Negril Palms), along with the beautiful Suzan Grace, Weathermon and a few others.
A small-time dealer was selling spliffs at Canoe. He went to go fetch some change for a 20 USD and didn’t return for like 45 minutes, and that got me a little pissed off. Island time and worrying about getting ripped off – you always have to be on guard in Negril. He did return finally.
I spent the latter part of the day at Westender Inn, then enjoyed my usual sunset chocolate cake and coffee at Catcha. I was back at Seastar Inn once it got dark, hanging once again with Tattoo Charlie and indulging in rum punches, one after the other until my hands were pruned like I was in the pool.
For some reason, I can drink an incredible amount of alcohol in Negril and still remain lucid and relatively normal. It feels good, though, and oddly I rarely drink in the USA, but in Jamaica I really like to let loose.
Chris was hosting poker tonight, and I sat next to him as an unofficial advisor. He kept losing and steadfastly refused to bluff. If he didn’t have anything like three aces, he always folded, and I scolded him for doing so.
“You have to bluff to win, Chris,” I kept telling him.
I went to my room again for a few more punches, watched some TV, then went to bed.
It was a good day.
A small-time dealer was selling spliffs at Canoe. He went to go fetch some change for a 20 USD and didn’t return for like 45 minutes, and that got me a little pissed off. Island time and worrying about getting ripped off – you always have to be on guard in Negril. He did return finally.
I spent the latter part of the day at Westender Inn, then enjoyed my usual sunset chocolate cake and coffee at Catcha. I was back at Seastar Inn once it got dark, hanging once again with Tattoo Charlie and indulging in rum punches, one after the other until my hands were pruned like I was in the pool.
For some reason, I can drink an incredible amount of alcohol in Negril and still remain lucid and relatively normal. It feels good, though, and oddly I rarely drink in the USA, but in Jamaica I really like to let loose.
Chris was hosting poker tonight, and I sat next to him as an unofficial advisor. He kept losing and steadfastly refused to bluff. If he didn’t have anything like three aces, he always folded, and I scolded him for doing so.
“You have to bluff to win, Chris,” I kept telling him.
I went to my room again for a few more punches, watched some TV, then went to bed.
It was a good day.