No Job, No Car, No Problem!

Never Trust A Gold Tooth

I am officially on vacation!  It just so happens to be the weekend before Valentines Day and wouldn’t you know that I am here in beautiful Barbados…all by myself.  Of course I’d rather have someone here with me but I’m already over that thought and just excited for my adventures to come.

I arrived in Barbados three days ago, for a business trip.  It’s my first time visiting this beautiful little country, so I’ve decided to extend my trip a few days and stay to have some real fun.  Fortunately, I met Nellie at the beginning of my trip.  He seems like a very decent guy and he happens to work for my company, but there on the island.  In fact he is a manager there and he is willing to show me around.  Nellie is nice but well, definitely seems interested.  But working for the same company and being half way across the world, it’s safer to hang out with hi, even if he does seem interested, then to go out on my own.  (On a side note, something to note about me – All my life African American men have been drawn to me.  I’m not sure if it’s my crazy, curly hair.  If it’s maybe that I’m a white girl with some serious junk in her trunk.  But I’m guessing that it’s a combo of both these things.  Not to mention, I love to dance and I dance pretty well if I do say so myself.  No matter where I go out, it’s a guarantee that I will be hit on by at least one hot black man.  I use it to my advantage and take the attention they are always willing to dish out.  It’s all in good fun but I’ve been known a time or two to take it too far as well.  Unfortunately, this may have been one of those times).

Okay, back to Barbados.  Nellie is originally from Trinidad.  He is a handsome, very dark man.  His accent is thick and I can really only understand about 50 percent of what he says to me.  The only immediate drawback?  Other than not understanding half of what he says of course.   He has a real live gold tooth, right there in the front too!  Perhaps it’s the ghettoness in me that is actually intrigued by this difference.  Is it real?  Is it gold plated?  Could he sell it for money if he was broke?  I wonder if he thinks about getting any more. 

Nellie will be picking me up this evening to take me out.  In the meantime I have a wonderful first day on my own.  I spend the entire day lying in the white sand.  I run to throw myself in the waves and ride them in over and over.  People on the beach watch me, intrigued or scared, as I laugh out loud at absolutely nothing.  The rum punch goes down easy while I have one of the best days of my life.  I am fried from the sun and filthy from the sand.  Walking to my ocean front room for a cool shower and some freshening up, two dark guys watch me walk by.  “Hey girl,” one says in passing.  “Oh hi!” I say back, feeling quite friendly and happy.  “You here by yourself?”  Uh oh, why are they asking this?  What am I supposed to say?  “No, no, I’m going upstairs to meet my boyfriend now.”  I better find a boyfriend quickly; in case those two come searching.  Thankfully Nellie is going to meet me here and then we are going to a fish festival.  I’ve never heard of a fish festival but I’m told that it is the popular place all the locals go to on Friday nights.  Apparently there are numerous huts in a fair like atmosphere.  Each serves a different kind of cooked fish and a variety of beer and rum punch.  Then in the center of the huts is a large dance floor.  It is said that the locals go for the dancing and every Friday night have a dance off.  I love a good dance off!

Since Nellie is heading to my room first, I’m going to walk to the market to get some beer and snacks.  I’m sure I’ll be hunting around for some munchies late night so I may as well be prepared.  “Hellooooooooo there.”  The voice approaching quickly from behind me makes the hairs on my neck stand on end.  I turn my head to spot a man on a bicycle quickly approaching. 

“Oh hi,” I say quickly, attempting to wave him off.

“Just what do we have here?” The man looks me up and down while riding his bike barefoot.  His dirty dreadlocks hang to the spokes of his bicycle tires.  He is filthy dirty and bears a large smile, flashing the few teeth he has remaining.  They are yellow and rotten and scare the daylights out of me.  Walking faster but trying not to seem rude I grin slightly, avoiding showing my own straight, white teeth.  “Just when did this pretty lady get into town?  And what took me so long to find her?”  Oh Jeez, he must be kidding.  What should I say back?  I don’t want him to stalk me but the market is still a couple blocks away?  “My name is Stoney,” says the beast, holding out his dirty hand with nails grown long and yellowed.  Stoney is his name?  Is that what is on his birth certificate?  I have a feeling they call him Stoney because he reeks of marijuana.