UncleBill and I have just arrived back in Miami, safe and sound and only slightly the worse for wear after our fabulous weekend at the first annual CaribDope (oh yes, there will be more of these), held this year on the very breezy island of St. Thomas, USVI.
To follow:
Photos of Geobabe hearting Sophie! (For a small fee.)
Lurid tales of mrblue’s crime spree!
Thrilling descriptions of the Caribbean’s greatest waitress, Alison!
Shocking revelations of thinksnow’s culinary adventures!
Discovery of the inability of film to withstand total immersion in the bathtub!
I have a very vague recollection of someone calling me from St Thomas around 7 am today. I have an even vaguer recollection of talking to that person for about ten minutes before falling asleep again without hanging up.
Please tell me that I didn’t humiliate myself … too much.
What with the science of forensics and all, they can tell which fingerprints are under which other ones. You are SO busted, dude. I say 5 to 10, six with good behavior. And with the value assessment I heard, we’re talking Grand Theft here.
Never mind all that crap. Whadja bring me? A T-shirt? A hat? Souvenir sunglasses? An eight-inch clamshell with a caribbean sunset painted on it? One of those damn carved coconut heads? What? Whadja bring me? A hotel ashtray? A book of matches?
Hey, I was just a pawn of the criminal syndicate. As soon as I found out I was a part of a nefarious plot, I immediately took steps to rectify the situation.
If I go, I’m taking you all down with me.
Dave: I’ve got a bar-coded airline tag from my checked luggage…
This was the island’s greatest resort condo with a view, not exactly a hotel. Sixth floor, wraparound balcony looking down on the treetop iguanas, crystal clear blue water, and nekkid bridesmaid doing their mating call at 1am.
I e-mailed Alison’s boss (Alison is the Caribbean’s greatest waitress) and the text is below:
If anyone finds themself in St. Thomas, they MUST go to Duffy’s Love Shack in Red Hook and look up Alison. Tell her you’re friends with those internet people.
Um, Dave, it is possible to look someone up without having to do anything that would upset one’s spouse.
Anyhoo, reposted from my LJ, here is the story of Friday night’s dinner, just because it’s so damn funny:
thinksnow looked over at the next table, and there amidst the plates and glasses was a mostly full bottle of wine, and no one to be seen. He said, “Damn, I can’t believe those people left that good bottle of wine!” At his urging, mrblue snagged the bottle and brought it over to our table. thinky was looking at it and exclaiming how amazing it was that those people left it and even though it was “totally ghetto” to take it, he wanted it.
As the waiter was coming back to take our order, Bill grabbed the bottle and set it on the floor next to his chair. While the waiter was at our table…the folks at the next table came back from the salad bar. We saw them looking around, befuddled, but it was hard to hear what they were saying in between trying to pay attention to the waiter and stifle our shrieks of laughter. Many meaningful looks were exchanged.
After we finally got through the order-taking process, we started discussing what on earth we were going to do. Steve finally said, “Let me handle this.” He took the bottle, turned to the folks at the other table and said, “We’re really sorry. We thought you were gone, so we took this.” Who’da thunk of just telling the truth? They were very good-natured about it and didn’t threaten to kick our asses or anything, so it all turned out OK.
