After the falls we were taken back to the town of port as we then decided to shop around for a little bit. Something positive about Jamaica is that the exchange rate for dollars is insane. You could easily feel like a rich person in Jamaica very quickly.
So we are shopping around in town and a man approaches our group and states how he wants to take up to his store because not many people visit it. So we all agree and end up following this guy as he starts to take us gradually more and more off the beaten path. We begin to doubt this man’s intentions as we soon arrive at a very shady part of town. Once we get to a dark alley he turns to say to us “It’s fine, really. I promise I won’t kill you” which is pretty cool you know. I mean everyone knows that you can trust someone that promises not to kill you.
A moment later and we arrive at his little novelty store in the middle of a creeper alley. We buy what we want and head back to port. On the walk back another man walks up to us and asks if any of us would like to buy any pot from him. We all quickly decline as he is then right up to use with his follow up “O, alright. How about some shrooms?” to which there was a long debate over the practices of security and customs agents while getting on the ship. We end up turning down his kind offers and head back for the ship… without drugs sadly.
We board the ship and put away our purchases as we all find our own shit to do before dinner, which was in two hours. Mind you, the dinner where we get fed was like royalty. Okay, now that we have that out of the way… anyway, less than two hours before dinner is to start, the girl that dumped me the day before (on the first full day of my first cruise ever… in case you forgot), we’ll call her Vicky* was hungry and wanted a little snack. So she asked me if I would come with her to go get a little snack before dinner. Sadly… I agreed.
So we went up to one of the buffets on the ship to grab some grub. I end up getting a plate filled with some pasta and she gets two plates; one loaded with pasta and the other loaded up with salad. She sets down her plates and I see how much food she got right before we are to have a huge dinner. As she’s turning to go get a drink I say to her “Wow, you got a lot.” Which in hindsight may have been ill advised at the time.
So she sits down and begins to stab her food with a force that you’d see from a KKK member eating at an NAACP meeting. But I digress. So I notice how she seems to be stabbing her food with a vengeance and say “Is something wrong?” which may also have been ill advised. As she then ratcheted her head sideways and slammed the palm of her hand on the table and said “You know what, yes, there is a problem.” As I then couldn’t help but smile as I put both hands under my chin in the bluntest display of the “I’ll still listen to you but at this point you can kiss my ass you stupid bitch” look. So I then, politely as I could said “O, well please do tell then?”. It was on like Donkey Kong.
She then proceeded to try and hammer into me as she then said “What was that supposed to mean?” to which I could only give the retarded squirrel look as I answered back “What did what mean?”. She then escalated more and more as she replied “Back a moment ago, when you said ‘wow, you got a lot’ what was that supposed to mean?” to which I had to laugh as I answered: “Because you did get a lot.” As I gestured to her food. Then like most sane women she asked if I was calling her fat. To which I could only laugh at her in the face again as I replied “First, you’re 5’8” and 120 pounds soaking wet. I really don’t think this is something to get bent out of shape for. Second, you got two full plates of food and we are having dinner in about an hour and a half.” Granted you’d think that I had won that discussion with what some of us in the industry call “logic” but no. She continued on and on refusing to lose the pointless argument over whether I was calling her fat or not. Kill me now.
To be continued…