Friday, November 28, 2008

Bob's education; aka: Brittany Spears visits in Spirit

In order to get time off from school, Bob has to keep a journal of what he saw on the offshore trip. Bob and I both face a challenge in determining how to discreetly describe a very indiscrete act.

It began in the restaurant that was one of five recommended by a very pregnant and very lovely French woman who had the misfortune of walking with us down the main street of Grand Case (pronounced Graan Caas). When we asked her to give a recommendation, she listed about five of them describing each in terms of ambiance, clientele, menu and price. We settled on Zen It only
to later find out that she was the owner! She did not even give her own restaurant top billing, which we thought was very cool.

Martin, Bob and I were sitting at a table by the beach, when we were approached by an attractive young woman in a short short sleek black dress and heels for a light. She had been sitting at the bar for a while, apparently waiting for friends or a date that never showed, and came over to ask for a light for her cigarette (This place is French, so there is a lot of smoking). Martin chatted with her for a while in French, and she returned to her perch.

Later that night, we decided to yield to Bob's interest in exploring the night life, and went down to a club called La Noche, and who did we see? Same woman, and we were the only 4 in the club other than the wait staff. When we bought a round of drinks we included hers on our tab. In retrospect that may have been a lot like feeding Jack Sparrow that first time. It seemed like a good idea when we did it, and for quite a while after. but then issues began to arise.

Our time in the nightclub started out great; She introduced herself as Gwenoleane (this is a guess, based on pronunciation) and as others arrived she would introduce us. We were accepted warmly, even though you would expect a place like this to be unforgiving of those who lacked the right age, looks, cool or money. I am pretty sure that we were short of the mark
on all four, unless you averaged our ages.

The proprietor was as you would expect from the movies, a matronly woman decked out in makeup, an inappropriately young outfit, jewelry and a short smart haircut. The bartender was surfer lean. A gay couple wandered in, soon to be followed by a lesbian couple, Gwen's friend Sophie, and a few more tourists. As the volume of the music started to rise, it was clear that Gwen would start the dancing; she seemed like a horse being led to the starting

How cool was this for two middle aged guys and a 15 year old? To be there and welcomed, and to be in the company of an attractive, feisty 22 year old regular? There was a certain symmetry about it, two guys on one side of the hill, one on the other, all enjoying the company of this woman right at clubbing age apex. There were warnings - she sat pretty close to Martin, touching his arm and stroking her own hair. She gave one of her beach bracelets to Bob. Gwen did indeed start the dancing, and soon everyone mentioned was on the floor. Gwen soon showed herself to be the life of the party dragging us out on the floor (willingly) to dance with her. She tended to dance very close with all three of us. I was not seeing any daylight between Bob and this 22 year old wild one. The big screen high def TV next to the dance floor began to show footage of raves in Ibiza along with all of the skimpy outfits, smoke, lights and foam. Everyone began to dance with everyone, except for the Lesbian couple who only danced with each other. The scene began to evolve into a carnival atmosphere that reminded me of opening scenes from Moulin Rouge; Had clowns on unicycles rolled by it would not seem out of place. For grins, I asked the DJ to play Edith Piaf, which he managed with a strong hip-hop back beat to the great pleasure of the crowd, many were singing along. I danced with the matronly owner. Surreal.

It was about this point that Gwen decided to announce to Martin that she, like Brittany Spears, had decided against wearing underwear this particular evening. When Martin told me this, I said, no, you must have misunderstood, for in that short skirt she had flashed her underwear often (I had even caught Bob catching a glimpse). Well in no time, Martin's fluency in French was once again confirmed - Gwen took to dancing on the tables and the bar and there was no question - she was not wearing any underwear and she was advertizing this fact. When one of patrons said it was his birthday and her present was to lift her skirt and she removed any doubt anyone might have had.

Explain that at school, Bob.

If I were you I would focus on anything you might have learned about STDs during the lecture your father gave on the way back to the boat!