I haven't written in a long time, and I have many explanations and to be continueds to complete.  But.  Until then.

This actually happened.

i am back on the island.  That explains me writing again.

unfortunately, my ladyface love works on a different school calendar from me, and our spring breaks are non-overlapping.  Fortunately, my friend and recent bachelor party attendee (another reason for not writing in awhile) Kaveh was willing to martyr himself to my cause, and join me in paradise.  We have been suffering heartily, as you can imagine.
Well, last night i took Kaveh to town at night for the first time.  And it is a sight.  A mixture of worlds.  On the one hand, we are right smack in the middle of spring break on the island, so there are loud freshman-year style groups of drunken white kids stumbling from bar to bar like a bunch of plastic 12 sided-dice rolled down a hallway.

And then there are the locals.  People of all shapes sizes and colors, who are more hardened.  Weather worn tans that supplant their status as of the island itself.  And these two groups depend on one another, but are, at the same time, otherworldly.

So basically its like the best people watching ever.

At one point, later on in our meanderings, we hunkered down unobtrusively in two plastic chairs under a palm tree.  We were set back from the water and around the corner from the, aptly named, Beach bar.  Apparently this location screamed "come sit with us," because quickly we gained a loud speaking drunk friend in a chair to our right.  While his volume was up to 11, he seemed nice enough and was basically just being friendly.  Kaveh and i, be not unfriendly ourselves, half-heartedly chatted with the man for a few minutes when . . .

I notice a lanky white kid in khaki cargo shorts fumbling with two beer just behind Kaveh's left shoulder.  It is, without a doubt, the sketchiest place possible to stand.  Me, being on vacation and retrieving some of my moxie have no real option but to state out loud to the group, "Ahhhhhh, the ol sneaking up from behind maneuver, not sketchy at all."  


I think my statement somehow forces this kid's hand a few moments before he was expecting to make himself known (picking a "hiding space" directly in view will hurt one's element of surprise).  But, to his credit, he launches forward, full force.

Drunk Kid: "Oh, that's interesting.  um . . . cool.  Hey, you want a beer?"


The kid had been fumbling with two Miller Lite bottles, and I believe he was carrying at least one with his finger in the opening.

Me:  "Um . . . that's the first thing you've said."


Drunk Kid: "Oh, that's cool, where you from. I'm from Iowa man.


Kaveh: "Where in Iowa?"


Iowa:  "De Moine."


Me: "Well, at least you're in the city in Iowa."  

Here is what we know at this point.  This is a very drunk Iowan on vacation.  He definitely was handling those bottles quite a bit in his approach up to Kaveh, and he literally just began a conversation, mid-conversation, that didn't exist as he simultaneously both introduced himself, inserted himself, and offered Kaveh one of his two personal beer bottles.  I don't know what they call that in Iowa, but in Massachusetts we call that "rape-y behavior."  Folks.  It seriously was.  I'm not saying i felt in danger, per say, but watching him troll afterwards did give me the shivers.

The conversation continues.  Drunk Iowa and the loud guy start talking Iowa.  And the kid somehow finds himself part of an infinite loud extolling the quail hunting of Iowa.  "Best in the country," i believe was said.  How could any of us possibly argue.  From there, the conversation began to wind down.  As the two drunkest guys found themselves with less and less to talk about, and with Kaveh and I in full "observe only" mode, eventually both guys moved on, up to the bar.

Kaveh turns to me with a look somewhere between shock, horror and absurdity.

Kaveh: "That was really f'n sketchy, right?!"

Me: "Oh, come on, Miller Lite isn't THAT bad."