On Dec 9, 2004, at 10:48 AM, Travis Edmunds wrote:
Belize City was -- probably still is -- urban Caribbean poverty: muddy, humid, predatory. The minute we walked out of our hotel (compound), we were stalked by persistent, vaguely threatening panhandlers. One followed us everywhere we went, including into a Chinese restaurant, where he sat at our table, blowing smoke over our food while insisting in an increasingly loud voice (as slow-motion time dragged on) that he just wanted us to "MEET DA PEOPLE!" When I offered him money, he acted offended and angry, at which point the owners of the restaurant asked him to leave. Bless them.
So what, no chaperone?
Your question could be taken two ways:
1) No, we didn't /want/ a chaperone.
2) No, we didn't think we would need one. I didn't have any idea that we would need one in a place that people go to for relaxation. How naive of us.
The next morning, we allowed ourselves to be corralled into what I remember as the space under an elevated porch that served as a restaurant. The barker who called us into the place hung out furtively by the front door. My wife insists that he was doing drug deals out there. But the breakfast was good.
Why can't I get a particular episode of Frasier out of my mind. You know, the one with the brownie...
Actually, I don't, although I suspect you're referring to the episode entitled "High Holidays," in which Martin inadvertently eats a marijuana-laced brownie.
Dave
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