There is nothing quite like the feeling of quenched nostalgia when you meet up with old friends from way back over several cold ones. Over the weekend, I happily hosted some old high school classmates. Quite naturally I took them to my favorite watering hole. After a few rounds and jokes about where and how their cherry went, we decided to venture into Rodney Bay for more, well, quality entertainment. To my surprise we spotted another old classmate of ours in the distance. Hey, even from a distance he can’t be denied: he’s a good looking stud. I have to admit the sight of him did not leave me cold. At school he was the star footballer, champ basketballer, tall, smooth black chocolate skin, and Afrocentric. If that were not already enough, his grades were always up there. In case you’re wondering about the, er, proffered more intimate details, not what you’re thinking: we were on a school trip to Dominica years ago and he suddenly felt an uncontrollable urge to take a swim. Only he had forgotten to take his trunks with him!
Funny how the first image that entered my mind as I set eyes on him so many years later was serpentine. “What’s he doing in St. Lucia?” I wondered. “How long is he planning to stay here? Where is he staying? What can I do to make him extend his visit?” And then, seemingly out of nowhere, a skinny, blonde and pale-looking woman entered the picture. Next thing she’s glued to Mr. Macdream and carrying on like she’s a chocolate addict. “Foreigner!” I thought. Island people don’t lock lips like that . . . not even behind closed doors.
They were still about five feet away when my companions started calling out to him as if they were in a locker room. The woman too. (Nah, not what you’re thinking. Only U.S. President-elects do that kind of thing). Besides, she wasn’t alone, remember? Meanwhile, I’m thinking about the audacity of the Paris Hilton lookalike who is wrapped around him, reminding me yet again of a certain Dominican river snake. Damn! Not that you could tell just by looking at me, you understand. Stinging my butt like some Zika mosquito, I smiled and laughed like everyone else, I mean, all that old Black Power, Black Panther, Malcolm X back in the day talk and now you have a white woman sucking on you as if for dear life?
Yes, I felt a little jealous. And to be quite honest I wasn’t all that bothered about the white woman thing, even when I had flashbacks of him naked in that Dominica river. (I know you want to hear about that . . . but maybe next time!) What really hurt was when we invited him to share a drink or two and he said he was so sorry, but these days nothing stronger than tea ever got past his lips. Yes, and in an accent that reminded me of those Southerners back in the day who made life intolerable for Dr Martin Luther King and his followers. Pure Alabama, I tell you. I mean is nothing real anymore? Fake news, fake rice, fake tits, fake butts . . . Suddenly I’m thinking: Did my eyes deceive me? Or was that a real river snake I saw in Dominica so many years ago? Hey, in the right frame of mind, a girl’s eyes can play terrible tricks!
I wonder how real is Lamar now?