Wednesday, December 21, 2005

J-Man vs. Bahama Boozin'

Yikes. Been a week since my last post. Perhaps if I stopped going out at night, drinking, and taking the wrong drugs (prescriptions...that is) I'd be able to get over this head cold (working on a week plus, now) and feel more like typing. But alcohol has always been my downfall and that leads me to my final installment of the stories of my trip to the Bahamas.

Story 1: Prejudice Bitch
Now this story has less to do with my drinking and more to do with another persons drinking, but it's still a classic. It's the third night at the place, and Amy has been losing big at blackjack, so she's not in the best of moods to begin with. We decide to give it another shot and sit down at a table with her co-worker's husband Jim. It's just the three of us and things are going OK for a while, not winning too much, but not losing our ass either.

After about a half hour of this, two other guys from the company group walk over to our table. Both of them are absolutely hammered. The one guy, we'll call him Pete, (because I think that's his name but I'm not sure) is the owner of the company's cousin and apparently recognizes Jim, so he and the other guy (who cares what his name is, he's not important to this story) decide to sit down. This is when the chaos begins.

Within moments, it is apparent that Pete is going to have a very hard time focusing on the game. He is slurring his words, not responding to questions from the dealer, and begins to harrass the staff of the casino because his cards were getting "scooped" by the dealer at the Caribbean Stud table, even though he was in. This beligerence carries over to the waitress, who he refers to as "huney" and demeans her for a lack of speed in bringing him a drink. (This was a common occurrence with most of Amy's co-workers). Soon, the table has turned sour and Amy is getting frustrated by the 2-3 minutes that it takes for this guy to make a decision on whether to hit or pass. God forbid the times when he wants to split.

It has become too much for Amy to handle and since her money is dwindling again, I propose that we get up and move to the next table over, which is completely empty. Luckily, the shoe is about to end, and when it does, Amy and I color out and move to the next table. We assumed that the others would stay put, but we were wrong.

Immediately, Jim has colored up as well and has moved to our table, which is not immediately a bad thing...except that ol' drunken Pete is confused by the exodus, and still wants to play with us. He and the other guy also color up and stumble their way over to us. Just great, this can't get any worse. Or can it????

What I hadn't noticed when Amy and I departed was that an older black woman had just sat down at the table next to Jim and was getting ready to play. And almost on cue, all five of us (white people) got up and moved tables. Oh boy!

The lady shoves her way in between Amy and Pete (I've sat at the last position at the table) and throws her money down, glares at each of us and pronounces, "WE are in the Bahamas, trying to have an enjoyable time. Why can't we just put that bullshit behind us and just play a game? My money is just as good as yours, and I probably know how to play better anyway." Uh, awkward.

Amy immediately tries to defend our move, by saying that we did not move because of her, but the lady does not want to hear it and dismisses her with a "You don't have to give me any explanations, you prejudice bitch." This is bad, but it can't get any worse right???

Wrong. The lady begins to win a couple of hands in a row, including a few blackjacks, which leads good ol' drunken Pete to ask this winning line to the dealer, "Are you guys sisters?" Oh, Jeez.

Her response, "Why, because we're both BLACK?!"

Someone, please kill me.

Story 2: Daquiris are 2 for $10
So, it's our last night on the island and Amy's boss has paid for everyone to go to a bonfire party where there will be food and all you can drink Bahama Mamas and Kamakazis. Did someone say, all-you-can-drink? The last time I went to an all-you-can-drink, I ended up scuplting a bowl out of newspaper on the metro as I vomited all over myself, so this was likely destined for disaster from the beginning, but let's continue.

So we get to the bonfire, and not only are the drinks free flowing, they're also really fucking strong. It doesn't take long before I'm loaded, dancing with the fire breather lady and talking to a fat couple about how bad Brett Favre is playing this year. Sadly, the bonfire came to an end a few hours later, but the party can still continue as Amy, Lorrel and Crystal (from the dolphin story) and I all head to the marina bars to grab a few more I really needed one.

We had been to the marina bars before and they are much like the bars of New Orleans, where it is just a bar that you walk up to from the street, with no where to go into. In my previous visits to these bars, I had learned that the key is to order multiple drinks. Beers are one for $4 or 2 for $5. That's a deal. So, when we get there, I immediately order myself and Lorrel a beer and turn back to the ladies, who have not had a drink in a while. And this is where things start to turn bad.

Amy looks at the two beers with disgust, and asks, "Where's mine? You didn't even ask?" Uh, oh.

"Oh sorry, I didn't know you wanted anything."
"I do, I'll have a strawberry daquiri."

I ask Crystal if she wants a drink, but she does not. And then I turn to the bar, Daquiris are one for $8 or two for $10. Holy Shit, NOW THAT'S A DEAL. Now here's where things get even worse.

So I turn to my right and see three young girls that have just walked up to the bar, but don't have any drinks yet. Always the thinker, I step over to them and ask if any of them was planning to order a daquiri, because my girlfriend wanted one and they were a deal if you got two.

Now, this probably wouldn't be a big deal if this were three guys (though I probably wouldn't assume they would want a daquiri) or maybe if it were three fat girls (yeah, I said it), but apparently this was a very bad move given the actual circumstances.

This is when Amy appears and gives me a shove, "What exactly are you doing?" (Notice the "exactly." Not sure why, but women use this one alot)

"I was asking them if they were gonna get a daquiri, because it's a deal" (The hole is dug, I'm just digging deeper now)

This is when the barrage of punches begins, starting at my stomach and working its way up to two right hooks to my jaw and cheek, in coordination with her outburst, " shit..on!!!???"

This is followed by a "You're such an asshole" and a "We're through" and the night is now a complete success.

Stunned by everything that just occurred, I had only one recourse but to finish my beer.

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