After Rita and I had dinner at Mezzanotte's we headed back to our hotel. We were trying to figure out what bar we were going to go to. We were tired of the resort bars and we were also trying to avoid three Canadian guys, one of whom bit me on the head before cutting off one of my corn row braids. The other two guys were nice, but boring.
There was a close bar that we could have gone to, but our new friend Gus had been thrown out of it the evening before and we decided to never go there again. I can't remember what he did, but I think it involved taking his clothes off. Anyway, we decided the best course of action would be to find a bar that was far enough away that the Canadians couldn't find it and that there was little chance that Gus had been thrown out of it.
We went into the lobby and found the resort driver, a tall guy from Jamaica (I think he was about 6'4"). We had met him three days before when we were walking back to the hotel from Cupisco beach (about 3 miles from the hotel). As we were walking down the side of the road we saw a bus coming towards us, and then the bus turned around, and then pulled up next to us. A guy with dreds was yelling something but we couldn't hear him. I was like "Rita, do you think the bus guy is trying to kidnap us?" We were debating running when suddenly we recognized the bus driver as an employee of the resort. He gave us a ride back to the hotel and that's when we became friends with him, and he would drive us where ever we wanted to go.
At this point it was about 1030 at night. Rita and I were a little buzzed. We asked the driver to take us to a good bar. We were both somewhat dressed up so he decided to take us to Hott Tomato, the coolest bar on the island. We asked him to come get us around 130 and went into the bar.
There we were assaulted by Germans who kept buying us champagne. They tried to talk to us even though they didn't speak English and we didn't speak German. We moved from a table to the bar, thinking that they would lose interest if we were not as geographically close to them. Plus, the bartender was hot. His name was Christian.
As soon as we sat down Christian handed us two drinks. We were puzzled as we hadn't ordered drinks yet. Christian said a guy bought them for us and pointed to a corner of the bar where a guy who could have been John Lennon's twin brother was sitting. "He's a famous artist" Christian said when Rita commented on his looks. We were like great, a famous artist bought us drinks and we tipped our drinks to him to say thanks.
After settling on my bar stool I had kicked off my sandals and had my feet resting on a rung of the bar stool. I was sipping my drink, flirting with Christian, and starting to have fun when I suddenly felt pressure on my foot. Then Rita screamed. I looked down at my feet and saw the John Lennon artist guy examining my sole.
I pulled my foot out of his hands. "What in god's name are you DOING?" Rita asked him. "I am an artist" he said. We were like "We know". And then he said "She has beautiful feet. I want to sculpt them".At that comment Rita started laughing so hard she almost fell off her bar stool. My feet are ugly. They're wide with strange looking toes. And back then I was running 6 miles a day at least, so all my toe nails were either missing or in various shades of grey black. I started laughing too, but that's because my feet are ticklish and he was caressing the bottom of my foot. I looked at Rita and she said "Oh, let him rub your foot. He did buy us drinks." There's a reason she gave me the nickname Bait.
After a few more seconds of having my feet man handled, and Rita laughing at me while taking pictures, I pretended I had to go to the bathroom. I gave Rita a signal to meet me outside on the beach, where Hott Tomato had tables set up. The tables were all empty because it had been raining lightly on and off all evening. I figured we could sit out there by ourselves and not be harassed anymore by the bizarre patrons of the bar.
Christian brought us drinks, and that's when Rita looked over at the parking lot and noticed that our bus driver was sitting in the bus. So we went over to the bus. "I thought you were going back to the hotel" Rita said. He told us he couldn't because he was off work and as soon as he went back he'd have to turn in the keys for the bus. He had been dozing in the driver's seat waiting for us.
We were like "You can't wait here in the bus. Come into the bar with us." He protested but Rita doesn't take no for an answer so he reluctantly followed us into the bar. There was dead silence as we walked in with him. And that's when I noticed, hey, there's no black people in here.
We sat outside on the beach and bought our driver drinks. It started raining so we went inside and cleared out a whole section of the bar because apparently some Europeans are afraid of black people. I don't remember too much about the rest of the evening except that Christian grabbed me during a tango and pulled me up on a table to dance.Shit, now I remember. That's why Gus got thrown out of that bar. He was trying to dance on a table and broke it.
The driver took us back to the hotel around 330 in the morning. Christian showed up at our hotel room a few minutes later. I didn't know what to do so Rita was like "Oh, just go for a walk with him". So we went for a walk, albeit a short one, from my hotel room to a secluded hot tub on the beach. We got in and he started trying to kiss me. I was like "dude, what are you doing" and he was like "I want to make love to you". So I was like "do you seriously think I'm going to sleep with a guy I just met?" and he said "we're sitting in a private hot tub and you're in your underwear". Good point. But I decided it was time to put on my dress and go to sleep, so I told him good night and went back to my room.
I should mention that Rita and I had to catch a noon flight, and here it was 5 in the morning. Plus, I hadn't called my boyfriend the whole week because I was busy flirting and kissing random guys in bars, and I thought maybe I should give him a call so he couldn't say later in a fight that I hadn't called him my whole vacation.
Ech. I called him and left an unintelligible message on his voice mail.
Well, you know how the rest of the story goes. I ended up with a c
oncussion.Here's a pic of Christian, me, one of the Germans, Rita, and our driver. I told you he was tall.
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