ST. KITTS

One day while we are docked in the island of St. Kitts, I come off the ship for a quick bite to eat. I walk around the little town of Basseterre looking for a nice local-type restaurant, and can't find one. I come across a small group of locals sitting at the square, and ask if they know of any good restaurants in the area. A filthy-looking Rastafarian guy (dreadlocks, long fingernails and all) jumps up and says, "Come, come follow me." And so I do. He takes me thru some narrow streets to an equally filthy-looking Chinese restaurant.

I politely decline, and tell him that I would just run to the KFC instead. He says, "Come, come follow me" again, even though I tell him that I know very well where the KFC is. But he speeds off, and I don't really have any choice but to follow behind him all the way there (I'm just hungry and want food, and don't have the time or energy to take any detours...). When we get there, I get in line and say thanks, hoping he'll just go away and leave me be. Of course I know better; he's going to want me to buy him something.

After waiting in line for a few minutes, with the Rasta guy standing right beside me, he pretty much tells me to buy him some food for his services, just to make sure we're on the same page. I want to tell him to screw off, but am just too tired and hungry to make the effort. So I tell him that I'll buy him a drink, and just a drink, as if he's a child. I make my order at the counter, and the Rasta guy goes ahead and orders chicken for himself! By this time, I just think whatever, I'll buy him chicken if that will make him go away. Once we get our food, I'm preparing myself to get violent and aggressive if he even tries to sit with me, luckily he just grabs his chicken and runs off without a word.

Only in the Caribbean would one be coerced into buying friend chicken for a filthy man in dreadlocks in order to eat a meal in peace. Ugh.