A cup of coffee, a
quick morning snorkel, one last Round Man Launch, and we were
mentally ready to enter The Hive, Union Island.
A short motor over and we were on the hook by noon, dinghy
ready to go.
We had some garbage,
so I was really looking forward to the traditional Running of the
Bulls at the local garbage depot.
It had been almost a year since we’d last been chased by
two tons of angry horn. We
were prepared – we had a foolproof plan.
We would throw down the good stuff, then the recyclables, and
run like hell. We
reasoned that this diversion would confuse the bulls long enough to
effect our escape. We
were disappointed to discover that two hours of planning were for
not. There were no bulls. They
were not there. No
pigs, no dogs, no chickens, nothing.
I’ll never understand this place.
We made our way over
to visit Lambi. He was
in his usual spot, behind the cash in his supermarket.
He was so happy to see us, since we usually put a big smile
on his face as a result of our abundant use of credit cards in his
establishment. He was
wearing a gold chain with a large pendant that was shaped like a $
sign. What else would you
expect?
Eric,
the charter skipper we met the
night before at the beach barbecue, was just in the process of tying
up his boat on Lambi’s new dock.
The timing was perfect, as Happy Hour was officially declared
open. Yes, we were indeed
happy.
During Cocktail
Hour
(not to be confused with Happy Hour at Lambi’s) aboard the boat,
one of our favorite Boat Boys, Yellow Man
stopped by
for a chat and made a pitch for his restaurant.
Since we had already booked at Lambi’s, we offered a
compromise. We would do
lunch tomorrow. Yellow
raised his wife Lady B on the VHF, who took our lunch order right
then and there. All we
had to do was make our way up the steep hill, and we would be fed.
Dinner at Lambi’s
was excellent as always. He
puts on a terrific buffet that features local delights, and it is
always first-rate. That
night was no exception. I
piled a mountain of the curried conch on my plate and dug right in.
Definitely not like at home.
Mr. Invincible
performed his usual show.
No lives were lost. I
succeeded in not stepping on the bed of nails. A
troupe from Trinidad performed a traditional limbo show, and were
nearly successful in recruiting the Round Man full time until
contract talks broke off. They
were unprepared to sign him to the seven-year $56M he felt he
deserved.
Later, I joined the steel band for a rousing medley of Billy
Ray Cyrus’s greatest hits.
All in all, not bad
for a Tuesday, or whatever day it was.
