On my first few trips, cold beer was not a sure bet. I remember a long night at a concert on the beach. As daylight was just breaking, we asked for our last beers. "Make 'em cold ones!" we pleaded. We sat back and watched as the server thrust his arm to the bottom of the barrel of Red Stripes and started digging around. He finally pulled his arm out with two beers, "Here they are!" They weren't any colder than any of the other coolish beers we'd been drinking all night. We just laughed and shook our heads. Just another thread in the rich tapestry that gets woven by coming back to Jamaica for many years. Respect --Marblehead
