Jun 21, 201309:28 AM
Swing Set: Cruising Full Time
Black Point Settlement and Farmer's Cay
(page 3 of 3)
To celebrate this major accomplishment, Rosie and I took the dinghy in to have dinner at the Farmer's Cay Yacht Club, which is basically a concrete block building with a dock out front that had room for one our two boats. We walked into what was a run down building cut up into several rooms, some with hardly any furniture of any kind.
We met Roosevelt, the owner, and asked him if we could get something to eat, as it was going on 6 o'clock. Roosevelt pondered this for a while. His wife was the cook, and she doesn't like to serve dinners until later in the evening, say, 8 o'clock or so, but he would "go see."
Roosevelt came back with good news. His wife would make us dinner in about a half an hour. We said that this would pose no problem for us and asked if he had any beer. The guidebooks said that, "LaBleu," the restaurant in which we were seated at Farmer's Cay Yacht Club, had the coldest beer on the island. Roosevelt was out of all but Bud Light, so we ordered two. Rosie was at a table looking over a book exchange table (take one, leave two) when Roosevelt came back and set two luke warm beers in front of me.
"You may as well bring two glasses of ice, Roosevelt. I like my beer a little colder than this."
"The cooler is broke, and the beer isn't cold," is what Roosevelt now decides to tell me.
Not only that, but when the ice starts melting, it starts adding an awful taste to my Bud Light, which in the first place would be fighting for any taste test awards as it was packaged last December. I assume in 2012.
While we waited for our dinners, Rosie ordered another Bud Light, I opted for Bacardi on the rocks. Roosevelt came out and sat with us for a bit. He mentioned that it was "high season" and normally cruisers take a mooring ball out front. Two of the best ones were his, he said. I took in the comment about "high season," it being hurricane season, plus not another soul was around. Just to see what he would say, I asked him how much it was to stay on a mooring. He told me that the cost was $30.
I gave Roosevelt the look. Without saying a word. Roosevelt then changed the price to $20 per night. Still twice as much as I would've paid, if I was going to take a ball at all. I told Roosevelt that I'd rather spend $20 on warm beer than pay for a mooring ball that we didn't need. He mumbled something about "the Port Authority" not wanting anyone to harm the coral by using anchors. As if.
"I'm in the sand" I told him.
Roosevelt decided to go "check on things in the office." Rosie saw him in there playing solitaire on his computer. Maybe he should've been cleaning the bathrooms or something.
It was at this point that I told Rosie to not let me see the bill when it came. I didn't want my night ruined any more than it was. I was elated to have been able to solve our insurance document dilemma, and just wanted a nice dinner. But it was not to be.
Rosie ordered Grouper with peas and rice, and I ordered fried chicken with fries. Each dinner eventually came out, served by Roosevelt himself.
When he left the table, I grabbed the salt shaker for my fries and no salt would come out. I knocked the shaker a bit and turned it over and the top came off and the full salt shaker emptied out in a mound over my fries, looking like the snow capped dome of Mt. Everest.
I was at least happy that my small salad largely remained salt free, and my chicken breast also was unscathed. My fries got the salt shook off one by one. Rosie could hardly contain herself, and I admitted that it was pretty funny, but you should have seen the look on Roosevelt's face when he made a quick return to our table.
His jaw dropped open when he looked at my plate. He obviously thought that this was something that I made a regular habit of doing, but he was speechless.
"The lid to the salt shaker came off," was all I said. I'm sure most folks would've wanted another order of fries, or even a whole dinner, but even I considered Roosevelt less than scrupulous, I didn't have the heart to cut into his already slim profit margin.
Back on the boat, we spent a calmer night, but the current was whipping through the anchorage. I was barely asleep when I decided that we'd pull out of there in the morning.