Hussyband, the selection available in the store is why I took the photo, but I forgot to point it out. Thanks. And thanks!Originally Posted by Hussyband
kellc1 - I'm happy to bring a little warmth to Minnesota.
Back to the Burger King . . . . . .
I’ve read comments by people on this board disparaging the Burger King in Negril . . . . Like it doesn’t belong there and it’s a blight on the landscape. That’s probably because BK is a big multi-national and represents fast-food and all that is bad in the American fast-food culture, including the apparent exploitation of low-wage workers. OK, I get that. But the Negril BK is very, very Jamaican. Go in there sometime, check it out, you may be surprised. It is extremely popular with the residents of Negril. Besides, it’s the nearest thing to a coffee shop that you will find in the town center.
I sit in the booth and gaze out the window. A fisherman is cleaning his morning catch where the concrete pier meets the beach. Three magnificent frigate birds whirl above him, floating on their long, delicate wings and changing direction effortlessly with flicks of their forked tails. They swoop gracefully down to skim the water to pick up the scraps thrown out by the fisherman.
Beyond the fisherman the waters of Long Bay are calm and flat, reflecting an iron sky. It looks like rain. Booby Cay . . . magical, mysterious, enticing . . . with its tiny white slash of beach, lies off in the distance.
What a view! Yeah . . . and I’m sitting in a Burger King. Sometimes I just have to pinch myself.
A young guy walks by us headed for the counter. Half his ass is bulging out the top of his shorts. It’s OK though - he has his Christmas boxers on – green and red with little candy canes. Bea, who is sitting facing the door, says she saw the guy pulling his pants lower before coming through the door. There are three other young guys inside who also have their shorts pulled way down revealing the shape of their buns pushing through their boxers. Seems like a new thing here.
Three cops wander in. Two in uniforms and one with a ‘Police’ vest on, otherwise in street clothes; probably undercover. They walk slowly around the booths, checking people out. They stop in front of one of the ‘shorts-down-low’ dudes. They have him stand up and raise his arms. They frisk him; pull everything out of his pockets. They go through all his stuff, ask him a few questions. Guess he’s OK because they let him go, and they didn’t even tell him to pull up his pants. Apparently it was just a spot check – good to see, actually. None of the other customers paid too much attention to what was going on. Last week, right around sunset, I saw the same three cops patrolling in the Corner Bar.
We visit the BK for coffee every few days, it’s our coffee shop. There’s an older gent who’s been in there having his morning coffee every time we’ve been there. And he’s there again this morning. Bea has been watching him. She leans towards me and whispers conspiratorially, “That guy has a small bottle of rum cream and he’s been sneaking it into his coffee.”
“Good idea,” I reply.
“Yes,” she says, “We should bring our bottle next time.”
I’ve got the salt-fish soaking and I’ve de-seeded the ackee. Tonight we are going down to the beach, hopefully there will be a nice sunset.
Tomorrow I have a special photo to share with you. Well . . . I like it.
Likkle more . .
OK, I like cats.
Home made plantain chips - splash on a little Pika Peppah . . . wash em down with a Stripe - heaven.
Bea - her first day at her new job.
