the almighty beef patty
our trip was far, far too short.
we had a lot of bad things happen (a couple of examples: patty's wallet stolen; the butt end of hurricane Gustav; food poisoning; my bottle of rum taken by customs, the bastards!); but the good was very good.
one of our jollier moments was the first night, after being stranded in Montego Bay and put up at the Breezes resort (NOTE TO ALL: WORST HOTEL EVER). we were woken up by the neighbors in the next room having a huge fight, complete with door slamming. sound of wheely suitcase being rolled away. room door opens again, and male voice with thick New Jersey accent bellows out: "If i fine a fookin dolla missen from my wallet, i will hunt you down like a FOOKIN PIG! YOU HEAR THAT BITCH< A FOOKIN PIG!"
we stayed at an all-inclusive resort, which are pretty great since one doesn't have to deal with anything but sunscreen and a room key. however, the food was nothing to write home about.
absolutely the best thing i ate while in Jamaica was a beef patty; held in one hand, a Red Stripe in the other, while speedwalking to gate 17 at the Montego Bay airport to catch our flight back to Atlanta. i now have a newfound love affair with beef patties, and i must learn how to make them.
oh, a quick note to the person who picked up patty's wallet then proceeded to buy computer equipment and canadian pharmaceuticals online: if i find you, i will cut you like a FOOKIN PIG. okay, maybe not, but karma will get you my friend. believe you me.