Big Boi On De Town

I went to a mauritian bar tonight.

It was an hour walk because I refused to hitch hike... Sometimes, you cant overcome your ingrained sensibilities.

To the bar:

I drank a bit at Denis' after Esben left, so I started my walk pretty happy... this turned to fear when I realized I had to cross a ton of bridges with no light. But it was fun, too (thank you, alcohol). The whole walk was about an hour, but the danger kept things interesting. Imagine walking home from down town, but there is no sidewalk and everyone is going 70 mph.

At the bar:

I met a guy walking out of the bathroom by saying "Oops, fuck" because I bumped into him. "OH, YOURE AMERICAN! IM CANADIAN!" happened next. He introduced me to some very high class people, which made me uncomfortable, but I tried to keep the ball rolling. It was someones birthday party, and I was described as both "the random" and later, "the Raffray" because people knew my family (fucking weird). I met a distant cousin/ family friend: the birthday girl was the daughter of a one armed man who was friends with Ann, the wife of Mark Rogers, the son of one of my grandmothers sisters (I think i got that right. All I remember is that the man had one arm).

Um, so I felt horrible that I was sitting in on her birthday bash. I bought her a shot called a Spring Buck or something (she asked for it, I wanted to buy her a car bomb). Everyone was very nice. I talked to someone about the lack of mauritian fashion. I talked to someone about how I looked like the cousin of someones husband (this is where I realized people were not 25-28 like I had thought). I talked to someone about how dumb Americans are (awkward!). Mike the Canadian introduced me to a guy who I believe was named John, who introduced me to Claudene or Claudete, and I am only typing their names because there is no way I will remember in twenty minutes. Claude(ne/te) insisted she had seen me, and I thought that was bullshit until I realized she saw me doing the only thing I do every day: run to and lift at the gym. She probably thought I was insane and was going to eat her and murder her other passengers

When Claude(ne/te) left, I saw my chance, and remembering my failure to hitch a ride, quickly asked if I could tag along. The guys were thrilled, the driver was not. About twenty seconds into the drive, I realized she was pretty drunk. Thus began the most frightening/entertaining car ride ever: I thought Mauritians drove like insane people... never had I hitched a ride with a drunk one.

All in all I had fun. Would I do it again? Maybe: the bar was weird and had casio keyboard music, and everyone was happy, and I want to meet a bunch of people. Maybe not: some of the people seemed a bit higher than me on the socio/economic ladder, which was wierd... Im used to drinking dollar beers, not gin and tonics in nice clothes. I am glad I chose to wear a t shirt and shorts with a patch on my ass. You got to show these people that you are the boss. Which I am.