She was wearing a gold colored sun dress that brushed to top of her sandals. There was a confidence in her stride that announced she was completely at ease in Negril and just as at ease in her own skin. I clearly remember that as her feet hit the ground, I was reminded me of the scene in the film “Time Bandits” where the giant emerges from the ocean and the camera cuts to his brobdingnagian sandals wiping out a village as he casually moves inland. This woman wasn’t wiping anything out, but her confidence was a match for the boat-hatted titan’s.

She was approached by a young Jamaican girl in a school uniform. They greeted each other with hugs. I didn’t hear the whole conversation but I did hear the woman say to the girl, “You better call your father and ask him.” Our eyes met about then.

I can only imagine what might have been going through her head, “Who is this freak in a cowboy hat, with one white leg and one brown one, and why is he ear hustling my conversation?” If she was thinking anything like that she didn’t let it show. Instead she spoke pleasantly to me.

“Sun Island is the best place for souvenirs,” she said.

I’m sure I was staring at her by now. “Are you a boardie,” I asked?