Friday we slept in again, then headed straight to the ocean. The waves were fairly rough, and kept pushing us toward the south end of the beach. We drifted right past 23/7 several times.
Of course, having stared at it so often, we had to go there for lunch around 2:30. Have I mentioned how cute their little dogs are?
I had a tomato and mozzarella sandwich. I’m usually not a huge fan of tomatoes, but everything tastes different there. Mostly way more fresh. While we were sitting there, we finally got to see the owner of the bar, Jamaican John. He was from upstate New York, so that accent mixed with tinges of Jamaican was fascinating.
A group of guys came in with a bottle of Grey Goose and sat at the bar. We were pretty sure they were a band. They ordered cranberry juice, tonic, and Red Bull, and got to drinking. Some local ladies came by trying to pick them up, and eventually some of them wandered off with the girls. They were highly entertaining to watch.
After lunch, Matt and I went back over to Time Square to see if the ATM was broken. Of course it wasn’t, because it only worked every other day. We did a bunch of souvenir shopping for the people back home, and made sure to pick up some Grey’s Spicy Sauce. I knew we could find Pickapeppa at home, but I had no idea whether I’d be able to find Grey’s or not. It’s made down the road in Sav.
We ran into Junior on the side of the road. He hit us up for cash, but I don’t think he remembered us. We stopped at Shamrock again for pop and rum, and went to hang out on the patio again for sunset and drinkin’. We played cards and hung out overlooking the ocean.
Round about 7pm or so, we decided to wander back up to Margaritaville, because Matt wanted to get his parents’ souvenirs from their shop. Also: yards. You can’t go wrong.
It was fairly quiet; apparently Friday is not a resort night at Jimmy’s place. We had dinner and drinks at a table on the beach, and watched a group of guys trying to pick up a 17-year-old girl who was there with her mother. The worst part was that her mother didn’t care, and was maybe a little too slutty. After dinner, we paid our tab and went to shop for the folks. Then we grabbed seats at the bar, and commenced watching sports on their TVs, which led to the inevitable Kobe/Lebron debate. It’s our longstanding tradition.
We watched poker and British Sportscenter, while my phone updated me with hockey scores via text. It’s really difficult to get upset about your favorite Gophers getting destroyed back home while you’re sitting at a bar on the beach, drinking rum. Orsi texted plans for meeting the next day; their plane was arriving in the afternoon, and we planned to go up to the cliffs to meet them in the evening.
We headed out once the place was devoid of anyone but staff, and took off down the beach. It was surprisingly quiet for a Friday, but then it’s a place where day of the week doesn’t really matter much. We met up with a couple hustlers trying to sell weed; the old guy latched onto Matt, while the younger one managed to pull me back and ask, “who is he to you?” Man, those dudes are aggressive. It’s kind of hilarious.
Back at our room, we finally saw the tiny lizard in full view. He’s the cutest thing ever!!
One of the hotel cats also followed us back. She reminded me of my Chiva:
We decided to hang out on the patio, and do various things that resulted in a plantain-chip-throwing contest. There were roosters in the yard next door, so we were trying to give them food. This resulted in failure, of course; there were just plantain chips scattered all over the parking lot. We did prove, however, that Matt is way better at that sport than I am. We then had a long debate about what portion of cheese bun you can successfully throw, and arrived at 1/6th. It made far more sense at the time, even though I had no intention of throwing my cheese bun at all. I was saving that for later.
And the rest will be edited out for decency’s sake.