Post #159 on the Where is Brent Thread , has a photo of him... Im sure you can capture that photo, or get a copy of it online..
Damn! Good memory! Yes, she went back, but i don't know why. Geraldine has a child by her son.
Frank
Damn! Good memory! Yes, she went back, but i don't know why. Geraldine has a child by her son.
Frank
"She has a child by her son"? Is that a typo?
She went back to Britain, but her son stayed behind to get Geradine knocked up.
I got a question, is the Black Angus you speak of the one on Puerto Rico ,if so great place, sorry it closed.
I got a question, is the Black Angus you speak of the one on Puerto Rico ,if so great place, sorry it closed.
I think I was a minority stock holder in that place. Along with the Riviera, the Old City, the Lucky 7, Litos, The San Juan, Hawaiian Hut and a few others.
Wow!
What a place.....The Black Angus...
Good memories...
Chapter 488 (Anal Sex & the Black Angus)
We’re on the North Coast, in a sleepy little village—full of retirees, Kite surfers, surfers, convicts, felons, unemployed, people on disability, locals, and people running from something. On some days, it seems as if every single expat down here is stone cold crazy. On some days, it seems as if every expat is trying to raise the bar of insanity a few inches higher.
Everyday, people run down here to escape something or someone. Everyday, you meet people trying to reinvent themselves. That’s why I’m here. I’m a professional runner. I’ve been running my entire life. Why else would I be sitting in the middle of this scorching ****ing heat, on a lawless island, surrounded by complete madness, searching for the cheapest Happy Hour while sleeping around with lonely cougars living off of alimony payments and too inebriated to know where they’re at.
Before relocating down the Caribbean, I worked on ships. I worked on ships for 12-years. Working on ships is no different than being in the military. There are no days off while you’re on a ship. There are hundreds of rules, and hundreds of regulations, and breaking any one of them will get you kicked off faster than you can blink an eye. Depending on the size of the ship, you can have thousands of staff. There are so many different nationalities, so many different personalities, and so many different quirks…people tend to gravitate to their own tribe, their own group, their own country and language.
One thing about being far away from home, when you are in port, and you have a few hours off, you look for the things that remind you of home. When you find a place that reminds you of what you are familiar with, you sit there. And then you sit there some more. You dream of this moment every day that you are out at sea. You never want to leave. You never want to go back to the ship. It could be a café, a bar, a beach, or a brothel. I found a brothel. The brothel was called The Black Angus. The Black Angus sat on a sun-drenched island in the Caribbean.
The black Angus had an oval bar on the first floor that sat around 30-people. Upstairs, above the bar was a motel. Outside the front entrance were off-duty police officers. On days when there were several ships in port, hundreds—sometimes thousands of men—would sprint down to the Black Angus, passing cars, busses, and traffic, in order to be the first one off the ship to get laid. The officers and crew over-whelmed the taxis sitting outside the dock. If you were lucky enough to be one of the first men off the ship and got into a cab, you were forced to share it with other crew members. A few times I was lucky enough to get a cab. On more than a few occasions, I saw our Chief Purser, Captain, Staff Captain, and officers running at a full sprint down the sidewalks and streets—passing taxis and traffic—trying to get to the Black Angus before the rest of the five hundred crew members reached the bar. More than once, I was sitting at a stoplight in the back of cab and saw our Captain and Chief Purser racing each other through the middle of the street, trying to be the first one to the bar.
On any given day, there would be 40 to 50 women waiting. Did it matter than other ships were already in port before us? No. did it matter that most of the women had already serviced several ships before ours finally docked? No. The only mission here was to get laid before the other crew members—you worked alongside—got there before you and took the best girls.
On the first floor of the Black Angus, there were two sides of the bar. To the left were all of the girls that would do Anal sex; to the right were all of the girls who would not. When there were several ships in port, the men would run down to the bar and enter the bar completely out of breath, exhausted, and unable to breath. The bar kept heart-defibulators behind the bar, and a full-time nurse on the staff. On more than a few occasions, the nurse had to resuscitate our Staff Captain and Chief Purser who raced down to the bar in order to fight for their favorite girl. On several occasions, I saw ambulances pull up to the bar and carry people away.
At the end of the day, everyone wants to get laid with their favorite girl.
Damm Frank, sounds like the "old" Subic Bay (Olongapo City)
Chapter 494 (A Day in a Life)
5.00 Wake up, urinate.
...
8.52 Fall asleep with hand pump lotion bottle in right hand, Bailey’s & coffee in right hand, and big red bush on computer screen.
Sorry to break the News to you Frank...
... that´s only 4 hours,
... ...there are 24 hours in a day!
Left out the part about disparaging all things American and calling them them homophobes , racists and Muslim haters
I'm American, I'm gay, and I hate racist people. What's your point?
Frank