Yo-Dee

The Star (St. Lucia) - Life Begins 2 Nite - - FRONT PAGE -

Free­bies. Oh, how we love ‘em. But it seems some peo­ple don’t know the dif­fer­ence be­tween an of­fered free­bie and an as­sumed free­bie. In some places the sec­ond va­ri­ety is called steal­ing. Yuh know, tiefin’ plain and sim­ple. Imag­ine my joy last week­end, af­ter Matthew done his thing that left most peo­ple down-spir­ited and wet, when a friend in­vited me to come out to party. And I’m not talk­ing about some run-of-the-mill get-to­gether where you have to bring your own booze, you un­der­stand. This was an “in­ter­na­tional party,” you un­der­stand, and it did not in any way in­volve LIAT. This in­ter­na­tional event was be­ing held right here in Saint Lu­cia on a dead Sun­day evening. Heaven, you say? I say, life-sav­ing.

Nat­u­rally, I thought my friend was pulling a fast one. It wouldn’t be the first one. So when I told him three or four times to take his silly jokes some­where else my friend cut the con­ver­sa­tion. But he hadn’t given up on me. What he did was to send me a dig­i­tal copy of the flyer. The best part was that the price was well within the rea­son­able zone and the venue, well, let me just say it was quite co­pacetic, if you know what I mean. Suf­fice it to say it took me just a few min­utes to get the party look on.

I con­sider my­self a pro­lific party critic, so trust me when I tell you this one rated two thumbs up. Just the right num­ber of peo­ple, not to men­tion a con­cept that was ab­so­lutely new to Looshans. Imag­ine a noise­less fete where you hear the dee­jays through spe­cial head­phones. The fact that I could lit­er­ally choose what to dance to and not have to en­dure some un­wanted dis­or­derly hu­man grinder on my be­hind was sheer bliss. The party went on for hours. And when it cli­maxed around 5 a.m. break­fast was served. As y’all al­ready know, when it’s good once it can never be enough! And you can bet I let my ticket spon­sor know I’d be open to the next in­ter­na­tional party!

But this be­ing Saint Lu­cia, few good things end on a to­tally happy note. And last Sun­day’s was no ex­cep­tion. Can you be­lieve some rats dis­guised as gen­tle­men and ladies, af­ter all the cool danc­ing and a nice hot break­fast, still ran away with the peo­ple equip­ment when no one was watch­ing? From what I have re­searched, Sun­day’s event has been re­ceiv­ing much ap­pre­ci­a­tion wher­ever it’s held; all fun, no prob­lems. Un­til the pro­mot­ers take it to Saint Lu­cia. It’s like a whole lotta peo­ple had such a great time they for­got they were wear­ing head­phones when the party dun. You mean, our rep­u­ta­tion hasn’t been bat­tered enough by IMPACS, al­most daily rapes, killings, bat­ter­ing and child abuse we had to had to go and add some­thing new to the list? And just when I was count­ing on get­ting an in­vite to an­other in­ter­na­tional no-un­wanted grind­ing party. From what I hear the for­eign promoter al­ready de­cide once bit­ten twice shy. Is like he outta here . . . for good!

Looshans, if you know you didn’t buy it, let it go!

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