I rolled my way up the hill to Seastar Inn, took a little rest, then headed to Out of Town pastry, a little store on top of the hill that is a combo bakery/general store (great coco bread and patties and great toothbrushes with tough brissles.)

There was an 82 year old man there, a German tourist who’s been living in Negril for 20 years, and the nice man behind the counter had found the old fella’s wallet and was returning it to him – so there is proof that not everyone is a hustler in this town.

I have met the old German before, and the whole scene warmed my heart.

I stopped by Banton’s, a little bar up past Moondance Cliffs towards Westender Inn. Banton was not there, and I knew our friend from across the street, Keith from Philly, was gone, too, because a rasta named Delmar who knows both of us had told me Keith left a little while ago and was back in the USA.

I bought my usually cherry juice – good for the joints, I hear – then found my way to Catcha Falling Star for sunset. Then, just as the sun was on the horizon, I hit Bentley’s for a little snack (two pound lobster with five things on plate), then I ran into Rob and Bnewb of all folks back at Seastar Inn, and all of us spent a couple of hours enjoying rum punch and beers. It was fun.

After a drink or two, the blood started flowin’ and the g-rated entertainment was not gonna do it for me anymore. I called a party girl whom I’ve known from past trips and said, “Ya mon, it’s gerryg123.” Forty-five minutes later, she was at the front door.