Its a Saturday night around 10pm on the small carribean island of Anguilla, my three friends and I are heading down to a little spot called The Pump House. It was originally an actual pump house for the salt flat that it sits on. Evidently salt was a major export at one time or another, but now the pump house is simply a kick ass reggae bar and resturant.
The band has just started warming up so we all belly up to the bar for our first round of drinks. Here, we meet up with a couple of dudes from Kentucky that my friend Jay had met earlier in the week, and what a merry bunch we are. There is much ordering of drinks, and the first round of ill advised shots that were to be a recurring theme during the night to come.
After a fair amount of social lubricant people begin to dance to the rhythmic sounds of Bob Marley, Peter Tosh, and a few covers of songs Im not sure should be rendered reggae (Elton John's "Daniel" for example).
I should stop here and explain that the locals on the island are extremely friendly, and the men specifically, find it the height of entertainment to dance with tourists of the female persuasion. It's all in good fun, but sometimes they get a little over zealous, so it's good to have a 6' something back up to point to and say "I'm with him". Jay was mine.
So we're dancing and drinking and dancing some more, and taking shots, and dancing, and drinking (you get the picture) when one particular guy who I had danced with several times that night twirls me out into the middle of the crowd and proceeds to exclaim that I was going to go home with him.
"What!?" I yell over the din of the music.
"You are going to go home with me" He yells back, pointing a finger first at my chest then at his.
"Ohhhh I seeee, yeah no, no I'm not" I turn to point out Jay,"I'm with him".
Jay sees my pointing and bops over smiling, extending his fist out to my dance partner in greeting. They knock knuckles in a pantently alpha male-hey-how-ya-doing manner as Mr local yells " I want to take her home for a f*!@K mon" (no lie, he really said it just like that!). I'm shaking my head no, laughing, and moving closer to Jay to take his arm as Jay says as plain as you please " Oh, no, I'm good, but you two go ahead"
My eyes, I'm sure popped right out of my head as my jaw hit the floor. He did NOT just say what I think he said! And then it dawns on me; I know what he thinks he heard (it is rather loud what with standing with our ears pressed up against the band's speakers and all). So I yell back,
"He didn't say vodka!"
"He didn't say vodka!"
"What!?" He motions to his ear, "I'm deaf in here" (no shit Sherlock).
I grab the back of his head and draw his ear down to mouth level and yell for all I'm worth, "HE DIDN"T SAY VODKA! NOT VODKA! WITH AN F WITH AN F!!!"
Then his eyes popped out of their sockets as the lightbulb went off (oh hallelujah).
Focusing our attention back on my would-be suiter, we both smile sheepishly, back away slowly, and make our way out into the street for some air, laughing our very drunk, very deaf, butts off.
Needless to say, this little episode was the running joke for the rest of the week, and poor Jay will probably never live it down.
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