metro monday: a little guest blogging never hurt anybody

because my dear s and b were not with me, i’d like to submit a report of my latest trip to st. martin. also, as dear s is bogged down with the semester, wedding appearances, and W’s follies, it’s time for her good friend to step up and make a guest blog. here it goes:

day one wednesday: departure day! towncar was on time (yes I know I said I was going to drive to dulles, but fuck it – that’s what car service is for!), (s: i did not for one second think rk was going to actually drive herself to the airport when she has the towncar people on speed-dial. besides, driving one's self to the airport before jetting off to the caribbean seems terribly unsophisticated.) flight was on time (and half empty). the couple in front of me – a united flight attendant and her husband – were super friendly and we chatted the whole time. hint to you travelers – make friends with any flight attendants on vacation; the crew on the flight will think you are traveling as a companion and give you free drinks.*

so a few beers later, i’m through immigration and standing on the curb at SXM with my new friends and a beer* (they had run to the store and grabbed a six pack). we made promises to have lunch, and i hopped into a cab. exactly 45 minutes later I’m on the beach, wet from my first swim and sipping my heineken. everything is working out perfectly. l’hoste hotel is perfect, the same beautiful beach boys are there, and i’ve got four days ahead of me – what more could a girl want? (well, I guess it would be nice to have a nice young man along to occupy my nights – i’ll have to work on someone from home for future trips. s knows who I have in mind.) (s: yeah. i know. when she finally beds this guy, i'm throwing a damn party.)

day 2 – 3 thursday - saturday: I’m not going to bore everyone with details; it was me sitting topless on the beach all day while good looking men brought me drinks. a few drinks at the bar to wrap up the day, a nap, then, a stroll over to the village to have dinner. as i wrote before, the only thing that would have made it better is to have something to do after dinner (sex, for those of you who don’t know what I’m talking ‘bout). (s: we got it, rk. with you-know-who. again, i swear to god i'm going to throw a party.)

day 4 saturday: um…kay the day started as usual; me sitting topless on a beach with good looking men bring me drinks….yada, yada. then, the usual stop at the bar to have few glasses of wine to end the day.

so, i’m at the bar and chatting with this guy (older, from colorado, here with is wife); he’s pretty nice, a little drunk, but really quite entertaining. so we have a few and he say’s let my wife and i take you to dinner. well ok. we agree to meet at the reception desk at 8. it’s 7 now, so i leave the bar to head back to my room to change. i decide to stop at the pool to rinse off the salt. after few minutes a guy walks through the pool area, pauses and jumps in.

we start talking, blah, blah, blah. he asks what i’m doing for dinner and i tell him i’m meeting a couple at eight and invite him to join us.

ok… so i’m a little reckless here: kinda drunk guy (i have no proof of a wife) and pool guy from canada. wtf are vacations for?

eight o’clock – everybody’s on time. as it turns out, kinda drunk guy does have a wife and she’s really nice. ex-teacher, educated, liberal, etc. we all decide to go to grand case for dinner. dinner was great. kinda drunk guy and his wife are entertaining, well-read, and best yet MAJOR DEMS. conversation is excellent; fast-paced, witty, and full of political, social, cultural references. needless to say we get along great. pool guy from canada is a little out of his league. (over dinner last week - s: dude. is the canuck a mimbo? he's a mimbo! he's a mimbo, isn't he? rk: sly grin.)

the driver comes to get us at 10:30. on the way back to orient bay, kinda drunk guy invites me and pool guy to this beach bar that he knows of. he tells us that it’s the local beach boys hangout. sounds good. we get back to the hotel; kinda drunk guy and his wife say “oh let’s stop at our room real quick.” ok, fine with me (actually, at this point I think they are going to spark up. they strike me as that type). i was incorrect.

i’m sitting on the couch with a glass of wine, all of a sudden I hear a very distinctive “chink, chink, chink” sound.

holy shit! kinda drunk guy and his wife (did i mention they were in there 60s?) are chopping lines of coke! pay attention investigators: I DID NOT PARTAKE. as it turns out for a retirement gift a colleague had given the wife a gram of coke as a joke; and they’ve since decided they like to party when they are vacation. whatever floats your boat.

but here’s the funniest part. pool guy from canada is flabbergasted. he turns to me and wide-eyed says, “I’ve never even seen coke, eh”

i almost blew wine through my nose, eh.

God love a canuck.

we all go to this bar – umm way cool, very loud dance/trance, good looking boys, cheap beer, me dancing, kinda drunk guy and his wife coked up and buying drinks,* and pool guy from canada trying to wrap his head around it. fucking hilarious night.

perfect end to a perfect trip.

Trip stats

Beers: umm, I lost count on the second day. (s: don't lie to the people. you were never counting.)

Bar tab for 4 day of lunches and drinking on the beach: $107.00* ($107 for a week is the magic that is rk.) (s: b thought this was her bar tab for one day. before dinner. before pre-dinner wine, even. the magic that is rk indeed. he also wondered if she had sunbathed nude, which has neither been confirmed nor denied.)

Pockets: none (mr. pocket made no appearances)

Number of his and hers matching g-strings: 2 (I get a lot of catalogs, like sometimes 16 in one day. I don’t get the one where you can buy his and hers g-strings)

Next trip: July.

*you can expect rk's book on how to get free drinks out next fall. it's called, "the magic that is rk: how to charm your way into getting tons of free drinks." i think random house has the rights.