I'm buying stock in that hardware store! I'm going to retire in three years just from my shares. No joke!
Frank
- Thread starter frank12
- Start date
Diary of a Restaurant on the North Coast
I'm buying stock in that hardware store! I'm going to retire in three years just from my shares. No joke!
Frank
Diary of a Restaurant on the North Coast
January 1st.
Today started out normal…I was sitting at home bored, getting high, surrounded with guns. A lot of guns.
It’s a long story. Basically, my cousin, Ivan, from San Francisco Macoris, called me and asked me for a favor. He said, “Franky (he stills calls me Franky), I got a local gun dealer coming up to Cabarete from Santo Domingo with some guns. I gave him your number; do me a favor and hold onto the guns until after the holidays…until I can get up to the north coast. (Ivan owns two gun stores here in the DR).
Guns are dangerous. But they’re even more dangerous when you’re high.
I went to work. I was high as kite. I was ****ing flying. Why? Because, how else am i going to deal with Jehovah Witnesses and East Coast Beehive hair-do's all day? The first thing I did was grab a coffee and lock myself in the liquor room. We got a new liquor room at work. It sits behind the bar. It's stocked to the top right with alcohol. I grabbed a bottle of 18yrs old Jameson whiskey and poured a generous shot into my coffee. Nope. That's not enough; I poured another shot. Now I was ready for the craziness. It was coming. The craziness always comes when you least expect it. You need to be prepared.
The day started out normal…the computers crashed, the wireless credit card machines broke down, the kitchen couldn’t hear the food orders come up on our new $300 printers, and the generator didn’t start when the electricity went out for the 5th time. Everything that could go wrong, went wrong. The only saving grace to the day was that I was now so ****ing high that I forgot about my foreskin infection and itching.
The first thing I did was call Juan and try and get the diesel generator working. I called, he didn’t answer. I sent phone messages, no answer. And then I sent a Facebook message. Still, no answer. I contemplated going home and grabbing one of my cousins guns and going directly to his office and shooting everyone. Instead, I went back into the liquor room and had another shot of Jameson, laid down, and took a 20-minute power nap.
I love naps. Naps are wonderful. You wake up with a completely new perspective on life. I no longer wanted to shoot up Juan’s office. Instead, I just wanted kidnap him and torture him, slowly.
It started getting busy. Really busy. Lots of people I hadn’t seen in a long time were strolling past on the beach. The Rhode Islanders were showing up left and right. Half the ****ing state must be in town. Then came the New Yorkers, followed closely by the Jersey Shore beehive hair-do-s and fake fingernails. Next were the French Canadians running down to escape the cold. Wait. How is it possible that a group of people from North America--whom are funny, life-loving, non-stop partying, wine loving, dancing, sex starved--big eaters—only speak French...and even that’s barely ****ing understandable!
More on French Canadians later.
Everything was normal, and then George came by. You remember George? I spoke of him last week in the thread on “Why you shouldn’t open a restaurant in the Caribbean!” Let me recap: George is a retired banker, Army vet, and 20-year employee of the U.S government. He recently retired after working in the US embassy in Germany for 10+years. He and his beautiful wife, Evan, built a house up El Choco; they even built a wine cellar in the basement. The house is stunning, the wine cellar more so. George is a fun loving, larger than life, Ronald Reagan worshipping, Tea Party Conservative, with a heavy dose of Jesus Freak. He fits every stereotype ever invented about Evangelical Christians and Archie Bunker ever invented. Still, I love the guy, and we always have fun teasing each other.
Basically, in George’s eye, I’m a Liberal Hippy, half-breed, faggot that wants to sit around the house all day eating homemade marijuana brownies, drinking Bailey’s & coffee, and mooching off the government.
Ok, so, he’s not completely stupid. But I did warn him about trying to ship down 2,400 bottles of expensive wine that he built his wine cellar for. I warned him. And then I warned him again. And then I threw my hands up in the air and gave up and drank a bottle of fantastic chardonnay. Because, let’s face it…how many ultra-right, hard-headed, Tea Party Conservative can you really reach with logic?
Part 2: To be continued…How George’s 2,400 bottles of wine got caught-up in the Dominican Customs (Aduana) Kafkaesque Merry-go-Round.
January 1st.
Today started out normal…I was sitting at home bored, getting high, surrounded with guns. A lot of guns.
It’s a long story. Basically, my cousin, Ivan, from San Francisco Macoris, called me and asked me for a favor. He said, “Franky (he stills calls me Franky), I got a local gun dealer coming up to Cabarete from Santo Domingo with some guns. I gave him your number; do me a favor and hold onto the guns until after the holidays…until I can get up to the north coast. (Ivan owns two gun stores here in the DR).
Guns are dangerous. But they’re even more dangerous when you’re high.
I went to work. I was high as kite. I was ****ing flying. Why? Because, how else am i going to deal with Jehovah Witnesses and East Coast Beehive hair-do's all day? The first thing I did was grab a coffee and lock myself in the liquor room. We got a new liquor room at work. It sits behind the bar. It's stocked to the top right with alcohol. I grabbed a bottle of 18yrs old Jameson whiskey and poured a generous shot into my coffee. Nope. That's not enough; I poured another shot. Now I was ready for the craziness. It was coming. The craziness always comes when you least expect it. You need to be prepared.
The day started out normal…the computers crashed, the wireless credit card machines broke down, the kitchen couldn’t hear the food orders come up on our new $300 printers, and the generator didn’t start when the electricity went out for the 5th time. Everything that could go wrong, went wrong. The only saving grace to the day was that I was now so ****ing high that I forgot about my foreskin infection and itching.
The first thing I did was call Juan and try and get the diesel generator working. I called, he didn’t answer. I sent phone messages, no answer. And then I sent a Facebook message. Still, no answer. I contemplated going home and grabbing one of my cousins guns and going directly to his office and shooting everyone. Instead, I went back into the liquor room and had another shot of Jameson, laid down, and took a 20-minute power nap.
I love naps. Naps are wonderful. You wake up with a completely new perspective on life. I no longer wanted to shoot up Juan’s office. Instead, I just wanted kidnap him and torture him, slowly.
It started getting busy. Really busy. Lots of people I hadn’t seen in a long time were strolling past on the beach. The Rhode Islanders were showing up left and right. Half the ****ing state must be in town. Then came the New Yorkers, followed closely by the Jersey Shore beehive hair-do-s and fake fingernails. Next were the French Canadians running down to escape the cold. Wait. How is it possible that a group of people from North America--whom are funny, life-loving, non-stop partying, wine loving, dancing, sex starved--big eaters—only speak French...and even that’s barely ****ing understandable!
More on French Canadians later.
Everything was normal, and then George came by. You remember George? I spoke of him last week in the thread on “Why you shouldn’t open a restaurant in the Caribbean!” Let me recap: George is a retired banker, Army vet, and 20-year employee of the U.S government. He recently retired after working in the US embassy in Germany for 10+years. He and his beautiful wife, Evan, built a house up El Choco; they even built a wine cellar in the basement. The house is stunning, the wine cellar more so. George is a fun loving, larger than life, Ronald Reagan worshipping, Tea Party Conservative, with a heavy dose of Jesus Freak. He fits every stereotype ever invented about Evangelical Christians and Archie Bunker ever invented. Still, I love the guy, and we always have fun teasing each other.
Basically, in George’s eye, I’m a Liberal Hippy, half-breed, faggot that wants to sit around the house all day eating homemade marijuana brownies, drinking Bailey’s & coffee, and mooching off the government.
Ok, so, he’s not completely stupid. But I did warn him about trying to ship down 2,400 bottles of expensive wine that he built his wine cellar for. I warned him. And then I warned him again. And then I threw my hands up in the air and gave up and drank a bottle of fantastic chardonnay. Because, let’s face it…how many ultra-right, hard-headed, Tea Party Conservative can you really reach with logic?
Part 2: To be continued…How George’s 2,400 bottles of wine got caught-up in the Dominican Customs (Aduana) Kafkaesque Merry-go-Round.
Great Read Frank. BTW, How to get rid of Jehovah Witness using just two words...
http://gawker.com/man-gets-jehovahs-witnesses-to-leave-with-just-two-fabu-1466674647
http://gawker.com/man-gets-jehovahs-witnesses-to-leave-with-just-two-fabu-1466674647
It is essential to be playing The Tubes at volume 11 as well, just like that house was.
Others can answer the client volume better, but when walking by on the beach in the daytime it is extremely uninviting to me. I find the blue light filtering through the roof to be incredibly annoying and distracting, truly hurting my eyes even from a distance.
Perhaps others find it amazing, but for me it's totally uninviting. A shame, as the ambiance of O'shays was nice. Now it's unlike anything else on the beach... and not in a good way.
I got one coming out next 4 to 6 weeks. It looks like it will be called Cabarete Diaries, part 2. It follows the last days of O'Shay's. It's pretty absurd and funny.
Frank
Those were my thoughts too, based only on the pictures that Frank has posted. I must make an effort to visit in person sometime.
The Avatar effect of blue lighting.
I totally agree. When I passed by and stepped inside, it was very noticeable how unflattering that blue lighting is to humans. Someone on FB asked why all of the pictures of people inside looked like "avatars".
I thought of the movie "AVATAR".
I totally agree. When I passed by and stepped inside, it was very noticeable how unflattering that blue lighting is to humans. Someone on FB asked why all of the pictures of people inside looked like "avatars".
I thought of the movie "AVATAR".