Gerry G's TRAIL OF ASHES TOUR Final Chapter -- The Mighty Californian's return

[gerryg123]

My first full day in Negril.

It rained on and off through most of the evening on Wednesday, so I hosted a little private party in Room 12 at Seastar Inn, enjoying the company of friends while indulging in rum punch and other things Jamaicans like to do.

The rain helped wash all my troubles away. It's been a tough past six months, a hard stretch for me, and oh how I have missed Negril, my home away from home. The magnificent island in the Caribbean breaks my heart some times, but there is so much that keeps me coming back.

Soon the night was still. It was close to midnight when a few of us made our way to Roots cafe, where just as expected there was a big batch of jerk-chicken guys and party girls who met us at the entrance. Marko and Mike from Memphis were there, both with a drinky smile on their faces and beautiful girls on their arms. I bumped into lots of friends from the past including Rochelle and the utterly beautiful Nicky, whose almond eyes, light skin and cheerleader-type body make her look like a model from South Beach more than a tightly-dressed hopeful at a late-night club.

The music was blaring and there was no admission charge, and rightfully so because the streets are SO quiet with SO FEW tourists this month; in fact, many business like Hungry Lion have signs reading "closed for the summer" or are simply boarded up this time of year.

Nicky wanted a ride home. She wanted more of course, but me, I was in such a chill mood and so utterly relaxed -- and a little buzzed -- that I promised her a ride home and that's it. Like a perfect gentleman, I motored my way up the hill, as we laughed and reminisced together about times past. For now I had vowed to be a perfect gentleman, and that's just what I did.

Marko and I had chilled together for nearly an hour in front of Roots, just enjoying the hustle and bustle and trying to hail down a route taxi for another friend, who was trying to make it all the way home past Green Island.

At Roots, Nicky was all alone at the end of the night, caught in numbers crunch with about 100 girls and 50 guys at the club. Eventually, she asked for a ride home. I dropped Nicky off halfway up the hill, where she has an apartment just down the road from Seastar Inn, and gave her a little hug goodnight. I did not want a thing from anyone. I just wanted to be nice.