It’s been on my mind to continue telling the story of my Dad’s first trip to Negril. In the weeks after returning I’d spent hours scribbling this and that in my journal, that’s my process. I write and write, I dump it all onto the the page, and then I begin the editing process. But then tragedy struck—I lost my journal—I was apoplectic. Imagine months of my deepest, not to mention wierdest, thoughts, all my compiled gems of literary genius. Gone.Â
So where was I? We left off with Dad and I making it to The Blue Cave Castle after a bit of drama at the airport. Can you believe them treating me like a tourist? Well ok, but anyway it was pretty un-cool.
Arriving on a Thursday was a good idea as far as airfare was concerned, but Dad had to miss the Rutgers v. FSU game. He’s a Rutgers season ticket holder. Therefore after settling in we figured maybe we could find a bar with ESPN for a little dinner, football scores and maybe some highlights.
We asked Santa, the night security man at The Castle, if he knew any bars showing American Football, or at least one with cable. He mentioned a few, but he didn’t seem to sure of himself, so we decided to grab a taxi and see what we could find.
Stepping into the steamy street of the mid-October evening, it was quiet, the little beer shack across the street had morphed into something else since my last trip, and Elvis the carver was gone for the night. In a few minutes we were in a cab with a driver who swore he remembered me from last year, and we lit out for Mary’s Bay. I’d watched football there before, but it looked closed as we pulled up. Even Easy Rock was closed. October is about as low as low season gets in Negril.
I asked the driver if he knew of any places that might show American Football, but he was kind of shaky too. I didn’t want to go all the way to the beach so he turned around and we headed up to LTU or Parrot Bay, but as we pulled past the Castle I remembered Xtabi, “They have TV’s,” I thought.
Before we committed, I jumped out of the cab and asked the girl at the front desk if they had a TV with cable in the bar, and she enthusiastically said, “Yes, we do!” her pretty Jamaican accent filled the room. I all but skipped out the door, paid the driver and said, “Get out Dad, this is the place!”
“They’re playing the game?” he asked.
“I don’t know, but they have a TV with cable.” I was already crossing the street, and in minutes we were sitting at the bar pretty much all by ourselves.
“Hey Buddy, what are the chances you can turn on that TV so we can catch a little ESPN?” I asked as he opened our beers with his lighter.
“Not so good mi bredda, the TV is broke.” he said with a sad smile. I looked at my Dad and he just smiled, “It just ain’t in the cards tonight.”
I just laughed, the pretty girl at the front desk didn’t lie, there was definitely a TV and I’m sure it had cable, but next time I’m going to ask, “Do you have a working TV with cable?” Once bitten…
Dad must have been hungry because he dug right into the mediocre off-season Jerk Chicken, and he really enjoyed his first-ever plantains. We took a few Red Stripes for the road and walked back to The Castle since it was just a few doors down.
Once on the street I thought walking had been a bad decision, and I was quite over-protective of my Dad on the dark dangerous strip of road. I get pissed off at Samsara every time I walk that part of the road, with that wall so close to the road there’s no room to walk, and I’ll never stay at Samsara because of it.
As the shoulder widened we relaxed and my Dad got the chance to say “No Thanks” to his first ganja proposition. I was proud of the old guy, he was smooth and finite, and the Jamaican entrepreneur didn’t ask again.
But the next part was entirely my fault. Only thirty yards from the safety of The Castle gates, a taxi passed slowly, and as I waved off the driver I looked for just a split second too long at the scantily-clad Jamaican hotness in the passenger seat. I knew what was coming next, and I knew I couldn’t stop it.
“Hey boys, you need some company?” there were two of them, and I did something really stupid, and no I wasn’t drunk, I have no excuse, but I engaged them in conversation. I don’t know what I was thinking; I guess I was trying to be cool in front of my Dad, “Watch your island-savvy son handle this.”
They got out of the car, I told them to get back in, and of course they didn’t listen. Somehow certain people in Jamaica just know you’ve recently arrived, and you’re ripe for the picking.
My Dad just kept walking, and at first it was funny. I was between him and the two girls, and I was talking back and forth telling them we weren’t interested. They were nothing if not persistant. Then the tall one passed me and started talking directly to my Dad. He didn’t answer, but I got a little angry. The driver must have noticed my attitude change and called the girls back to the car. Their graphic promises of carnal delights didn’t stop till they drove away.
“Does that happen every night?” My Dad asked half amused and half astonished.
“Maybe it’s the time of year, I’ve never seen them so aggressive.” We were joking as Santa opened the gate for us. I must have looked shocked or something because Santo asked if I was okay.
We were exhausted after a long day and were sleeping soon after entering our room.Â
More to come…
Vinny 
