Manpot's Tales of the Tropics (5 page)

But then I knew it wouldn't work….after all someone
had come up with the ridiculous idea of a Jamaican bobsled team
entering the Olympics and given their movie the very title that
would have been so perfect for mine…" Cool Runnings..." A Jamaican
bobsled team??

Now that’s a really silly idea...

It's hard to imagine how that most humble piece of
garden or beach furniture, the chaise longue (or "lounge" in
Americaspeak), could cost a million bucks.

Maybe if Cartier was given the assignment and used 24
carat gold and diamonds and covered the whole thing with fur from
virgin minks it could be achieved.

Or you could just buy a garden variety chaise longue
in the Caribbean.

It all stated innocently enough…a trip to St Thomas
to one of those sprawling stores where they all wear orange aprons
and forced smiles You see, the house on Little Apple Bay had
finally been completely remodelled and now seemed a little
stark...besides now there was this huge balcony off the master
bedroom overlooking the ridiculously blue sea just crying out for a
couple of chaise longues.

So to St Thomas I went with my neighbour on the
ferry.

Forty two dollars roundtrip and a rental car for the
day.

I found everything we needed for the house including
two very nice chaise longues for a mere $195 each.

And then I discovered something else...the export
desk.

"No problem, Mon", said the nice man behind the
counter," just bring us everything and we'll ship it to Tortola for
you...we deliver twice a week."

"There's a modest shipping fee," he added.

It had to be pretty modest, I figured...just slinging
a bunch of household goods on a boat called the Bomba Charger and
less than an hour later tossing them onto the dock in Tortola. The
plan was to return on the summer trip and buy everything...and buy
everything we did.

There were those two chaises and a load of other bits
and bobs...not much change from a thousand dollars but the house
would be much better for it. The biggest items were those $195
chaises.

Of course there was another forty two dollars ferry
fare...and one hundred bucks for a cabbie to run us around for four
hours. But think of the money we'd saved by shopping in a big store
in the US Virgins and not in the small local Tortola stores with
little variety.

So everything was taken to the export desk and I was
told "No problem, Mon...be shipped next Tuesday."

And sure enough next Tuesday I got the phone call
saying the stuff...and those $195 chaises...had arrived.

But the call wasn't from that big company in St
Thomas...it was from a shipping company in Tortola...They wanted
$155 "shipping fee..."

"But I paid a 'modest' 'shipping fee of '$74' to the
big company," said I.

"No Mon," said the kindly shipping company lady,"
that was the 'shipping fee'...to ship your stuff from the store to
the dock in St Thomas".

Now silly me...I thought "shipping" usually
involved...well ships...but no. That ten minute truck ride from the
store to the dock cost a cool $74. Now I'm sure that truck was
loaded to the gills with other customers "exports"...so someone
probably collected about a thousand bucks for a ten minute truck
run.

Nice work if you can get it.

"OK", said I to the kindly shipping lady," I'll come,
pay my fee and get my stuff."

As I was about to find out...that's not quite how it
works.

Lucky for me right at that moment my buddy Desmond,
who'd done the remodel, showed up in his pickup. I explained I
needed to collect the household goods...including the two $195
chaise longues.

"No problem, Mon" he said.

Now Desmond's truck's not in the best of repair and
not all the gauges work too well.

I noticed his fuel gauge needle was firmly on the
"E".

"Have you got gas, Desmond?" asked I.

"No Mon", said Desmond.

Well the least I could do was fill up Desmond's
truck. And when he said he had no gas he wasn't kidding. Fifty
dollars later we were back on our way...not to the dock but into
the backroads of the capital of Road Town.

"Got to go to the shipping office," said Desmond.

"OK Mon," said I.

Now without Desmond I would never have found the
shipping office...I mean not in a million years.

There was no sign and no street name...It was down a
potholed backstreet jammed between a couple of auto body shops
where, it seemed, Suzuki jeeps came to get their last rites.

The lady behind the glass smiled and gave me the
bill...I gave her the $155 (cash only please)...and she smiled
again.

"No problem Mon," she said.

"Let's head to the dock and get my $195 chaise
longues," said I.

"No mon," said Desmond," we've got to see
Lazareth."

Well the only Lazareth I'd heard of before was some
guy who rose from the dead in biblical times.

But, I discovered, in Tortola Lazareth is a man who
can also achieve miracles. For a "modest fee" he can fill out the
necessary paperwork to free up your goods...including my pair of
$195 chaise longues.

We found Lazareth in his office. Desmond explained
about my shipment.

"No problem, Mon" said Lazareth.

And for the next ten minutes he carefully filled out
sheet after sheet of paperwork. All for two $195 chaise longues and
a few household goods.

Finally Lazareth handed me the sheets of paper and a
bill for $75 (cash only please).

"No problem, Mon," said I.

"Let's get to the dock and get my $195 chaise
longues," I said to Desmond.

"No Mon," said Desmond," we've got to go to
customs."

Of course...how could I foolishly be thinking I was
going to get off so lightly...Not a chance.

Time to pay the British Virgin Islands Government
their due, Together we walked into customs and up to a large lady
behind the counter. I gave her my papers.

She looked at the papers...looked at me and
smiled.

"No problem, Mon," she said "come back in two
hours."

I looked around the room. We were the only ones
there; I looked at her in despair.

"But", said I, "my friend Desmond here's doing me a
huge favour and he has to get back to work….on the North
Shore."

"No problem, Mon," she said, "take a seat."

Ten minutes later she gave me another pile of
papers...and a bill for $200...duty (cash only please).

"No problem, Mon," said I, handing over another pile
of notes.

In the words of Jack Nicholson..." I was moments from
a clean getaway..." when she called after me...

"There is one thing," she said with a smile...holding
out a large can. "We are raising money for our basketball team and
we'd love a contribution."

Of course...she'd let us go right to the front of the
line, although we were the only ones there. She had accomplished in
ten minutes what normally would take her two hours...how could I
turn her down.

"No problem, Mon", said I smiling and stuffing a
twenty into the can.

Finally we could pickup my two $195 chaise longues
and those assorted household goods.

And I could see them...right there. All we had to do
was back Desmond's truck up and load them in. Yeah right.

As I walked up to my two $195 chaise longues and
assorted household goods a man walked up to me with a smile.

"Just picking up my stuff...that's it there", said I
pointing.

"No problem, Mon," he said, "just pay the forklift
fee."

"Forklift fee???" said I.

"Yeah Mon," said he smiling," got to pay me to pick
them up on the forklift and bring them over here."

"No problem, Mon," said I following him to his small
office in the warehouse.

For five minutes the man filled out an intricate
receipt, finally proudly handing it to me with the
bill...$5...forklift fee (cash only please).

"No problem, Mon," said I handing over the last of my
cash.

We then watched as the driver carefully manoeuvred
his forklift into position and gently lifted my two $195 chaise
longues and assorted household goods.

He moved them the twenty feet to the pickup.

"No problem, Mon", he said smiling.

Well worth the $5 forklift fee.

Finally we were on our way. I was happy to have my
pair of $195 chaise lounges and assorted household goods...I was
even happier that they were being weighed down in the back of the
pickup by the hitchhiker Desmond had picked up.

Now I lay on one of my wonderful $195 chair longues
looking out at that spectacular view and it all seems
worthwhile.

OK...so maybe the "million dollar chaise longue" is a
bit of an exaggeration but...someone had to buy the house on the
Caribbean beach to put the chaises in...and then there's the agony
of a remodel and building that balcony where they can reside in
splendour...and when you tack on that $5 forklift fee(cash only
please) there ain't much change from a million large!!

I think the first time I ever saw Land Crab was at
one of our local beach bars in Tortola's Apple Bay. Every Sunday
night "Sebastian's" would hire a local "fungi" band named" The
Spark Plugs" to play.

Now there is nothing more "local" in the BVI's than
"fungi" music. Instruments can be anything from a hollowed out
gourd, to a triangle...or electric keyboard...Basically "bring what
ya got and join in".

Just great.

The term "fungi" literally means "scratch" and refers
to the veggies you use to make a meal from "scratch". So it's
literally a "scratch band."

Well on this night there was this white guy, dressed
in a Hawaiian print shirt, with a red Converse high top on one foot
and a green one on the other dancing around in front of "The Spark
Plugs'…and blasting out some killer fungi songs.

Now "fungi" and "calypso" kind of join forces
here...The lyrics to any great island song have to be primarily
about one or two things…government corruption...and sex.

And there are lots of both in the islands...

Land Crab's song had them both in healthy doses...and
he had one hell of a great voice.

Later I discovered that "Lord" Land Crab was a
regular in the annual festival "Calypso Contest" and always did
well.

Quite a talent for a white school teacher from
Florida!

Well...down the road Land Crab and I became good
friends.

His family owns a house a few bays east of me and he
loves the BVI's as much as I do. He's just way better at putting
his feelings into the words of some very unforgettable songs.

Now there is no doubt that my good friend LC is bit
of an exhibitionist...heck all we had to do to get him to sing at a
recent beach bash was turn on the stereo!

But there is something else LC likes to do. And it's
bit more dangerous than singing...

He likes to ride donkeys…fast…without a saddle.

And, of course, the BVI's provide the perfect chance
for a crazy white school teacher/calypso star to fulfill that
insane fantasy.

Every year the next bay over from us, Carrot Bay,
holds a festival with bands...great local food...and homemade model
boat races. But the big highlight is always...you guessed it…the
donkey race.

Now the following account comes from Land Crab
himself because I was not there to witness the event.

But apparently LC entered the race and took off at a
great rate of knots down the road to the delirious cheers of the
crowd. Now a donkey at full gallop is hard to control...A donkey at
full gallop with no saddle adds a whole new element to the
equation.

Anyway...it seems LC did pretty well for a few
yards….until he approached the "Mr. Dick's Soft Ice Cream" truck
parked on the side of the road.