Sketchy is as sketchy does..............
Welcome to Grenada. With Kirstin's chemical burns on her ass now under control, we proceed to the beach. Two miles of white sand, interrupted by a few beach bars. What could be nicer ? Or so we thought.
We tie up the dinghy and proceed to a perfect spot under a palm tree. This is like a beer commercial setting, except without the models and unwarranted laughing.
Of course it couldn't last..........and it didn't. Up walks this really drunk, vaguely Colombian looking Snoop-Dogg guy. He wants to chat me up. I want to read. Conflict ensues.
El Snoop- "Hey, mahn.......jou ever read National Geographic ? Like, wit them animals, man ?"
Tom- "Don't have any money........can't talk now. Good bye, my friend"
El Snoop- "I'm tryin to conversate, man............I'm tryin to discuss shit, man"
Tom- "Sorry, dude.........look, we just want to read and be alone. See you"
Then, sensing trouble, the beach maintenance guy walks up. He's black (an important contextual detail). El Snoop doesn't like the maintenance guy busting in on his rap.........
El Snoop- "Get the F out of here you N"
Tom (throwing the penalty flag)- "Unsportsmanlike conduct on El Snoop......15 yards"
Maintenance guy- "Don't talk to this dude.......he's just a drunk piece of trash"
Now El Snoop has a big brown shopping bag. I don't know what's in it. A gun ? A knife ? More beer ? El Snoop and the maintenance man exchange racial epithets as Kirstin and I pack up our stuff. I'm sure there's going to be a brawl, and I don't want to be the only white guy in the fight (call me crazy). Anyway, we left and moved up the beach about 200 yards..........until a pack of stray dogs camped near us..........."Maybe the boat would be nice". Anyway, Grenada was off to a rough start. We knew the Carib gets sketchy the further south you go, and there's only 75 miles to go until we reach Venezuela.
More to come.
We tie up the dinghy and proceed to a perfect spot under a palm tree. This is like a beer commercial setting, except without the models and unwarranted laughing.
Of course it couldn't last..........and it didn't. Up walks this really drunk, vaguely Colombian looking Snoop-Dogg guy. He wants to chat me up. I want to read. Conflict ensues.
El Snoop- "Hey, mahn.......jou ever read National Geographic ? Like, wit them animals, man ?"
Tom- "Don't have any money........can't talk now. Good bye, my friend"
El Snoop- "I'm tryin to conversate, man............I'm tryin to discuss shit, man"
Tom- "Sorry, dude.........look, we just want to read and be alone. See you"
Then, sensing trouble, the beach maintenance guy walks up. He's black (an important contextual detail). El Snoop doesn't like the maintenance guy busting in on his rap.........
El Snoop- "Get the F out of here you N"
Tom (throwing the penalty flag)- "Unsportsmanlike conduct on El Snoop......15 yards"
Maintenance guy- "Don't talk to this dude.......he's just a drunk piece of trash"
Now El Snoop has a big brown shopping bag. I don't know what's in it. A gun ? A knife ? More beer ? El Snoop and the maintenance man exchange racial epithets as Kirstin and I pack up our stuff. I'm sure there's going to be a brawl, and I don't want to be the only white guy in the fight (call me crazy). Anyway, we left and moved up the beach about 200 yards..........until a pack of stray dogs camped near us..........."Maybe the boat would be nice". Anyway, Grenada was off to a rough start. We knew the Carib gets sketchy the further south you go, and there's only 75 miles to go until we reach Venezuela.
More to come.