My Take on Black Friday

I forgot to mention something that happened during yesterday's drive, along the same lines of the sidewalk-welding experience:  On the way to the beach we had to drive around a guy who was working on a telephone pole, standing on top of an old metal ladder, that was sticking out two to three feet into the street.  And the only precaution he had taken was to put a single orange cone in the middle of the road behind him.

Whole different world, I'm telling you.

On to today:  My mother's friend took me to the mall around the corner from her place, and it was a very weird experience.  I loathe malls and everything they stand for, yet at the same time, there was a familiarity (originating from unholy capitalistic greed, unfortunately) that gave me some sense of comfort.

And speaking of a sense of comfort stemming from pure evil, I have something sad to report.  I fell off the wagon today.  We went to eat at the food court, where I decided to try the local version of KFC.  (I'd been told by both my drum instructor and my mother's friend that it's far better than its American counterpart.)  Unfortunately, one of the drink offerings happened to be Mountain Dew.  I got a little shiver down my spine at the sight of that familiar logo, but proudly remained strong and instead asked for an orange juice.

Which they were out of.

And that was all it took.  I looked over at my friend, silently pleading for help, and she just smiled and ordered for me:  Get the lady a Mountain Dew.

Well, I thought, it's out of my hands now.

Let me tell you:  every single sip had me closing my eyes in ecstasy.  As a connoisseur of all things Dew, I appreciate the distinct hierarchy of taste:  At the bottom is Dew in a bottle.  Next in line, canned Dew.  But at the top, hands down, is fountain Dew.  It's' just the best.  And sure enough I was jonesing for it again today.  Must-fight-urge ...

Moving on, I had a close encounter with a different kind of deliciosity today, too.  My mother's friend went to her salon to get a manicure, and while I waited for her, I became engaged in a political discussion with the owners' son, a ridiculously gorgeous man who, it turns out, is a goalkeeper for the country's national field hockey team.  WTF.  I didn't do too much talking, which usually bugs the shit out of me, but not today.  The subject matter was interesting, I got the opportunity to practice deciphering the Trini accent, and honestly, it gave me the perfect excuse to simply sit and stare at this guy, without shame.  All I needed was a bag of popcorn and I would have been set.

Today's Trinidad Impression:   Food pro's and con's:  Con:  There's not a whole lot of food that is manufactured locally.  Consequently, there's a lot of stuff on the shelves that's imported, primarily from the U.K. or the U.S.  What that means is that all the stuff I'm familiar with is more expensive here than it would be in the States.  But on the pro side, there's not one McDonald's in sight.  Not one.  KFC, Subway, Burger King, even, but no evidence of Ronald anywhere.

Along those same lines, there's not one Wal-Mart in sight, either.  No McDonald's, No Wal-Mart.  It's like living in Eden.

As a side note, I got independent confirmation that the sound of my laughter is, in fact, indistinguishable from the sound of my sobbing.  I was sitting in the living room watching America's Funniest Home Videos tonight, laughing my ass off, when my mother's friend called out from her room to ask me if I was okay.  She thought I was crying.

:)