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Thread: Cabarete Diaries, part 2

  1. #11
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    Quote Originally Posted by frank12 View Post
    Part 2

    After the New York City cop and I hung out for 5 hours at the bar on Saturday, he got up to walk up around a little. Not long after he left, he was followed by a well known working girl that usually hangs out on the east end of Cabarete near the Fuji film store. The waitresses wanted to follow him around as well. Hell, i wanted to get up and follow him. He was damn good looking and strong. He was chick magnet!

    Anyone who has lived in Cabarete for any time will instantly recognize her—she has long bleached blond curly hair, walks with a limp, is around 5’3, and is very, very skinny. Many people here in town know here as a drug addict and thief. I’ve never seen her inside any restaurant or bars here, but I do see her every evening hanging out in the street. She likes to hang out on the street near the new condos called Morning Breeze, right past Scotia bank, near the Fuji film store.

    She was following the cop around and explaining to him the “Happy Hour” special she was running. He wasn’t interested. He walked to his rental car which was parked on the street, opened the door and got in. she immediately opened the passenger side door and got in as well. He told her to get out. She said would get out as soon as he gave her some money. He refused. She said, “Ok,” and got out of the car and started walking briskly down the street with a limp.

    Before he drove off, he reached for his phone. It was not there. Nor was his new 10’ Samsung tablet. Both had been on the passenger seat. When she got in, she sat down on them. It was nighttime. He had been drinking a wee bit. He forgot about them on the seat. They both were sitting directly underneath the Happy Hour special of the bleach blond.

    He got out of the car and started walking in the direction she headed in. The motoconchoos and some other people saw her take off down an alley. He asked them if they knew where she went and explained what she had just taken from him. They told him to wait right there, and they took off in her direction. Twenty minutes later, they returned and said they found her and that she had already sold his stuff to someone else. They said that the guy who bought the stuff wanted $700 US dollars. He said, “keep the stuff” and walked away.

    They followed him back to his car and said they could probably get it for $500 US dollars (another Happy Hour). Meanwhile, two cops showed up. He explained to the cops what happened. A few minutes later, a guy showed up with his phone. It was his new Samsung Note 3. It’s a $700 dollar phone in the U.S. He told the cops “that’s my phone he has in his hand!” They told him there was nothing they could do about it, but if he wanted to press charges they could go to the police station and file the paper work. He told them he didn’t have the time.

    While the Dominican man held his phone in his hands, the New York cop started contemplating how much it was going to cost him to replace the tablet and the phone. It would have been well over $1000 US dollars. Now, here he was standing with two Politur officers, a Dominican with his phone in his hand, and other people listening to the details of the negotiation.

    Side note: this is exactly why I cannot ever own a gun in this country. In this situation—with two Politur officers standing there doing nothing while a Dominican held onto my $700 dollar phone, I would have pulled out my gun and told the guy to immediately hand over my phone or I will shoot you in the balls, and then I will shoot the Politur officers in the balls. Not a smart move over a stupid phone.

    He negotiated a price of $17,000 pesos, or roughly $420 dollars. He got his stuff back and I saw him in the bar on Monday night (during the Monday night football game) where he told me, the owner, Big Frank, and a US foreign Officer (Brian Gallo) that works for the US State Department in Washington DC & Afghanistan.

    Ps. After he got home on Saturday night and tried to check his phone, he noticed his Us SIM card was gone and so was his Memory card which held all of his photos.

    Frank
    One would think a NYC cop would be more street smart. I am more than happy to walk around with my $650 RD Alcatel phone while in DR.

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  3. #12
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    I wonder what will happen to him next time he comes? He sure must like it here!!

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    Quote Originally Posted by jbars View Post
    One would think a NYC cop would be more street smart. I am more than happy to walk around with my $650 RD Alcatel phone while in DR.
    Why walk around with it when you could keep it safe in you car in plain sight of anyone needing a new phone or tablet.

    I will NEVER understand how some guys let a "hooker" steal from them and a COP at that.

    .BTW A hooker stealing a phone and a tablet is a "death sentence" in most of the world.

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    I am assuming he thinks since he is a big guy and a cop no one will steal that from him?
    Anyone who walks around with that stuff flashing it about and gets drunk is asking for it!

    Heck i might try and roll him for it ;-) I'm learning some new tricks at my Barrio!

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    I came into work yesterday and saw Alabama Gary sitting in the corner of the bar. He was wearing his old, faded, Crimson Tide hat and sipping Jack & water. Alabama Gary is a cross between the actor Jerry Reed and Burt Reynolds.

    A small crowd had congregated around him while listening to adventure filled, colorfully embellished stories of Caribbean shipwrecks, islands, and some of the eccentric characters who inhabit them.

    Alabama Gary is an ex-pat transported down here from Alabama via St. Nevis where he resided for nearly a decade before being booted off the island for sleeping with every known oxygen consuming female with a pulse — one of which included the governor’s daughter, and another was the governor’s donkey.

    Fortunately, I don’t have to transcend the whole length of the bar in order to hear Gary’s stories. You can hear all of the details simply by remaining within a two mile radius of wherever he’s talking (one mile if he’s whispering). His Alabama accent can cut through white noise and pierce one’s eardrum from any part of the island in which he’s residing. Make no mistake: I’m a huge fan of Alabama Gary. Gary has so many fascinating, death-defying stories — a few of which he’s actually lived through — that one is led to believe that Gary is almost certainly Captain Cook reincarnated. I’m not kidding. Alabama Gary is one of the funniest, most talented individuals on the island. But like many southerners, he suffers from a unique drinking problem that when combined with a southern accent called Hee-Haw, renders him completely incoherent except to small infants, autistic children and farm animals. Recently, he’s taken on an almost superman-like status here on the North Coast.

    Last year he was shot with a 38 caliber handgun. The bullet entered below his left shoulder blade, exited his back, pierced the driver’s seat, entered the rear passenger seat — nearly missing an obese prostitute in the back — and lodged inside the gas tank, where it remains to this day. Gary claims to have gotten much better gas mileage as a direct result of the bullet’s lead deposits mixing in with the unleaded fuel in the tank. He claims that a little lead is needed in order for better gas mileage — apparently it helps keep the throttle bodies clean, and hence, the fuel injection system runs much more efficiently. He swears by this and routinely drops bullets into his gas tank every other fill-up.

    Alabama Gary’s eccentric claims don’t stop there. The day after the shooting, Gary came strolling into O’Shay's with a bottle of Jack Daniels in one hand and a shell casing in the other, shouting, “Ha-ha, you can’t kill an Alabama boy with just one bullet!” Then he proceeded to pour shots of Jack for everyone while blood slowly oozed out of the hole in his back and ran down the back of the chair where it made his shirt stick to the chair like superglue.

    Among some of Gary’s other eccentric claims is that he once abducted by a UFO over L.A (lower Alabama) and coerced by small, furry green men to consume liters of Jack Daniels straight, without a chaser. This infuriated Gary immensely but he claims that it was during these intimate interrogation sessions that he learned a new language understood by only autistic children and farm animals. I thought he was only kidding until one day I witnessed him communicating with livestock along the side the road. I was driving past, delivering pizzas on Big Fred’s John Deere riding lawn mower, when I stopped to see what he was doing. I said, “Gary, what and the hell are you doing, man?” He said, “Shhh, can’t you see I’m trying to propose!?”

    I realized that the Jack Daniels was speaking to him in a language that only other UFO abductees could understand. I also found out that the Jack had him seeing things only visible to other UFO abductees. He somehow made the mistake of mistaking a rather large sow along the side of the road for one of the many over-fed island girls. He was in the midst of proposing to her when I pulled up and interrupted. He turned to me and said, “Listen, Franky, In the Caribbean, you never lose your girlfriend. You just lose your turn. You understand?”

    Frank

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    Thanks Frank. You always make my weekend.

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    Let me tell you a little bit about the trip from hell.

    We took off from Port Bahia, in Samana Bay on the last week of September 2011. The first two hours was absolute heaven. It was exactly how I envisioned a fantastic sailing trip to be like.

    We were cruising at about 6 knots heading northwest, hugging the north coast of Samana. It was September 26th. It was hurricane season, but the weather forecast was good. We got a late start waiting for the Dominican Customs officials to finish eating their rice & beans.

    The sun was about 45degrees up in the sky and the mountains along the north coast were nothing short of majestic and surreal looking. The mountains were ominous, green, and towering over us after we turned west at the end of the bay and started heading down the coastline. I took my clothes off and got comfortable.

    Let me back up. A week earlier, Hawaiian Tom came into O’Shay’s in Cabarete and told me he was helping a friend in Samana take his 42 ft sailboat up to Charleston, South Carolina. It was a trip of a lifetime. It was a sailing trip I had always wanted to do. We were going to Turks & Caicos first where the plan was to eat, drink, and chase women…not necessarily in that order. After that, we were going to head towards the Bahamas and cruise through the Mona Passage and look for mermaids and virgins.

    I was eating a bag of Doritos that I bought in the marina before we took off from Samana. I was laying down on deck naked and completely mesmerized by the mountains we were cruising past on the north coast. The thing that struck me most was that there were no people along these stretch of mountains. There were no houses. There was no construction. The mountains that ran along the north coast near Semana Bay were completely void of people or construction. I had never seen such a vast, green, unoccupied space on this island. It was almost as if the island was uninhabited. It was completely empty and stark looking. But it was incredibly green as well. It was beautiful.

    About two hours into the trip we started hitting some bigger waves. I didn’t care. I worked on ships for twelve years. I had cruised through the outer regions of many, many hurricanes and storms. I’ve cruised through 30ft waves on the way to Bermuda and lost sight of the horizon for up to two hours. I watched passengers puke their guts out and projectile vomit across ships stern in 35mph wind. I’ve seen hundreds of passengers line up in a single file to take turns vomiting into our ship’s flower pots while me and my co-workers sat at the buffet table eating scrambled eggs.

    But this was different. This was not a ship. This was a 42ft sailboat. I had never been sea-sick even once on five different ships that I worked on. Now, here I was in maybe 5 foot waves and I was puking up Doritos overboard and feeding a school of dolphins that was following us. The two sailors on board—Hawaiian Tom & Captain Jeff were cracking up and laughing. I was laughing in-between heaves of cheese inspired Dorito vomit. After a while, they were saying, “How’s it going Mr. Cruise Director?” and then adding, “What? You feeling a little sea-sick…here’s another bag of Doritos for you.” And then they Hee-Hawed and feel on the deck rolling with laughter. That was ok. I was happy for them. I occasionally looked up from my vomiting and laughed with them. I didn’t care. I knew my stomach only held so many feet of intestines. Besides, I thought, how bad can it get?

    Well, apparently, it could get much worse. The first two days of sailing, I vomited up my small intestines. I lost 10lbs the first four days into the trip. That's not a joke. After my small intestines came out, I heaved up my large intestines. Now I was relived because I had no more stomach to vomit up. This was the perfect diet. It was working. I was getting skinner by the hour. I could feel it.

    After stopping in Turks & Caicos islands and spending 3 days there drinking, eating, sleeping, drinking, and then eating some more, Tom and I rented some bicycles and explored the island. The water around Turks & Caicos is aqua green and amazing.

    Because there was not enough wind to carry us on, we ended up staying three more days in Turks& Caicos exploring the island, drink, women, and food…not necessarily in that order. I realized that i was traveling with some very experienced sailors that were not only professional sailors, but also professional drinkers and womanizers as well. These were true professionals. More on that later.

    After spending $7 for coffee and $12 for small sandwiches at one of coolest, most laid back café’s I’ve ever been to, The Green Bean, i was nearly broke and ready to move on to the next island. I figured with my new slim figure, I could probably dance a little to pick up some extra money to see my through. These Caribbean islands must have gay Go-Go bars somewhere. Right?

    We left Turks & Caicos and spent 6 days at sea where, after three days in the middle of nowhere—and I mean nowhere--the engine on the boat stopped working completely and started hissing and making a lot of bad, horrible screeching noises. It was not a healthy sign. Despite numerous tries to revive it—including trying to give it CPR (I’m certified) & shocking it with heart defibulators—the engine could not be brought back to life. Oh well…how bad could it get?

    After the third day at sea we got hit by a storm straight out of the Old Testament; it was epic; it would have made Noah and his Ark proud. I sincerely thought that i was in a really bad dream. First, because I was still vomiting up the last of my organs; Secondly, because the waves came at us at between 6ft to 8ft and threw us around like a cork in a bathtub. I tried to vomit some more, but I had nothing left but a few teeth & cavities in my mouth. The waves were relentless and pounded us for three days and nights straight. Somehow, I managed to lose another 5lbs, for a grand total of 15lbs of weight loss in 14 days. So I had that going for me. I felt skinny.

    Just when things could not get any worse, it got worse. The heads were backed up and so the toilets were unusable and spilling over. The smell was horrendous. There was two years of poop sloshing around in the toilets (The sailboat had been sitting in Samana bay for two years). I had to tie myself with a harness to the side of the boat and then try and take a crap off the back of the boat while 6ft ocean waves came up and gave me a huge enema. It felt good.

    It started pouring so I went downstairs to try and die. I left a note, a last testament of who should get my student loans. Two windows above me started leaking around the rubber seals and started dripping salt water on me throughout the night so that in the morning i had a half inch of salt caked around my eyes and mouth and they both remained glued shut. The salt was like superglue around my eyes and mouth, only stronger. I couldn't open my eyes until I ran warm water over them and then scraped the salt away with a butter knife. I was extremely dehydrated and my urine turned the color golden-brown. It looked like soup.

    Because we had no working engine, when we arrived to South Carolina, we had to tack back and forth for 12 hours in order to get into the river channel that comes up from Charleston, South Carolina. I was ready to jump overboard after eight hours of tacking back and forth, but the captain kept on insisting that we only needed a few more tries to make it into the river channel. We had no engine. It took 12 hours to navigate 12 nautical miles! That's not even a slight exaggeration. But Captain Jeff and Tom were both excellent in their experience.

    After 6 days at sea, when i finally stepped off the boat i couldn't walk because the sidewalk was moving, the ground was moving…and it kept on moving for an additional 8 months and hasn't stopped moving two years later. I still have to grab a hold of the walls when I walk down the street.

    NOTE TO SELF: NEVER, EVER, PURCHASE A SAILBOAT!!!!!!!!!


    ...unless you want to lose weight!!

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    Good one. From a sailboat owner.

    wbr

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    Females are about as varied and beloved a genre, as opinionated a subject, and also as accessible a hobby as there is in the DR, which makes determining the country's craziest females a truly challenging task. Yes, females are tough to rank responsibly, objectively. But once again, that's just what I set out to do.

    Standing behind a bar, I get to meet a lot of women…beautiful women, crazy women, intelligent women, strange women, insane women, and funny women. They come in all sizes, shapes, and hair colors.

    I once had a women sit at my bar barking. No, seriously. She was barking and wasn’t shy about it. Her Gold Visa credit card kept getting rejected from our machine when she was trying to pay her bill, so she started barking. When I asked her if she could simply walk across the street and take some money out of the ATM machine and pay her bill in cash, she started barking louder. A drunk French Canadian sitting at the bar started barking out loud as well. It made people around the bar start to laugh. I started to laugh. Was he barking with her or at her? Whatever the motivation, she stopped barking and looked at him like he was crazy. Which begs the question…do crazy people know if they are crazy?

    I had a young woman sit at the bar last year and try and explain to me and some other guys sitting with me that Astrology is a science. She said a professional Astrologist could predict people’s behavior. She said that Astrology has been around for centuries (historically true) and that it was the most accurate of the sciences. She asked me my sign, and when I told her, “Leo”, she said she that she “suspected as much.” She said that she already knew my sign by my personality characteristics. She said she just wanted to confirm it. Then she went on to tell me things about my personality—how I react to things, why I am this way (gluttonous), why I insist on doing things that way (insane), and basically…why I am the way I am--a life-long loser, barely employable, with sloth like tendencies and an allergy to hard, honest work. She focused her attention on me because I was the only one at the bar who openly questioned the legitimacy of Astrology and her sanity for believing in Horoscopes. She became offended when I called horoscopes a “Snake Oil for crazy women and drag queens with bad perms.” After she finished attacking me, I told her the truth: “Sweetheart, I’m not a Leo.”

    On the north coast, we get a lot of young women who move down here expecting to find a good job and make a living down here. A lot of them end up working at some of the bars on the beaches as waitresses or bartenders. They come here looking for fun, sun, and sex. Good for them. I wish I was younger. I’m not. Occasionally they will come and sit at the bar where I work and I will meet them for the first time despite having seen them walk up and down the beach for months. Quite a few of these girls take up surfing and kite surfing. Many are athletic and beautiful, What 21 to 29 year old isn’t? But quite a few of them are also drinking nightly and smoking the terrible pot that passes as THC down here. Like a lot of young girls, they’re here for a good time. Some have lasted a lot longer then I expected. But most last only a short time because they run out of money and options. I met two Canadian girls last week; they had been living in Punta Cana for a year. They had come there to bartend at some nightclub. They got paid 8000 pesos a month ($200 US). Initially, they were given an apartment to live in. but then the nightclub fell on hard times and they were kicked out and lost their jobs. When they were kicked out, they started staying with different guys and moved from condo to condo, couch to couch, and floor to floor. They stayed with so many different people and had so much stuff stolen from them—shoes, cell phones, computers, etc. I told them they had a good book in them and that they should write about their experiences. They worked at two or three different nightclubs night clubs, but they made very little money…almost nothing. It was hard getting paid at some places. The jobs never lasted long, and they never were what they seemed. They came into my bar with large suitcases and were waiting to meet two Dominican guys (I knew one of them, he’s a DJ here in Cabarete) and were going to stay with them for a few days before heading back to Canada. The Dominican guys they were going to stay with they had only met one of them, once, in Punta Cana. They had never even been to the North Coast until now. They took buses the whole way to Cabarete…8 hours.

    More women stories later.

    Frank

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    Not to mention the crazy lady at Miros....

    I can honestly say that about one in four restaurant owners I've known or worked for were either crazy or sociopaths~ sometimes both.
    Last edited by PeterInBrat; 11-30-2013 at 03:24 PM.

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