This story is about a bar called Hurricanes located in Belize. A memorable vacation indeed.
After unpacking and preparing my wardrobe for the remaining nine days, I ventured out to the streets of San Pedro not knowing what will happen, and really not caring.
I was recently divorced on this vacation, and I just wanted to let loose and have some fun. I had a list of places I wanted to eat at, and two places I wanted to shop, so my quest was to find the first place to have a drink and eat some food.
Hurricanes is located on the east side of the Caye and in a perfect location to enjoy the ocean. I was seated on the patio with a perfect view of the Atlantic, and immediately ordered a house special, passion fruit hurricane.
My meal was presented to me with a flare from my waiter and my drinks were delicious. I was enjoying my stuffed groper, drinking my passion fruit hurricane, and enjoying the ocean view, and I heard a voice.
"A fur coat. A fucking fur coat. She bought a fucking fur coat. Can you imagine that shit?" the strong voice behind me stormed.
It's cold in Chicago. The weather called for snow and wind." Another male voice added.
"Yes, but where in the hell is she going to wear a fur coat in San Pedro?" the strong voice whined.
"Maybe she won't return. Maybe she'll be snowed in." a third male voice chimed in with a frenzy of laughter following his comment.
"A toast to the fucking fur coat!" all three men continued to laugh.
"Would you buy a fur coat if you lived on a tropical island?"
A strange silence happened behind me, until I turned around and realized the question was directed at me. With all three men glaring at me for an answer.
I simply answered, "Um, no."
The largest of the three men stood up, "Well, you're a sensible woman." Pointing to my flip-flops, "See, flip-flops on a beach."
I sipped on my drink, and thought, Duh. I almost said, duh out loud but decided to get the entire story, because the one man standing by the railing was gorgeous, and he didn't have a ring on his finger. The other two men had rings on their fingers.
"So, your wife purchased a fur coat in Chicago, and plans to wear the coat here in San Pedro?" Recapping what I just heard.
"Yes. Well, she lives here half of the year, and the other half she lives in Chicago with her sister." The frustrated husband chattered.
I took a deep breath and decided to jump into the water of seduction. "You have to blame the salesperson. When I was in Chicago, I went shopping along the Magnificent Mile, ended up in La Perla boutique and I spent over two hundred dollars on a bra and panty set, and I just had a boob job, so the bra wasn't needed."
BINGO! That got their attention. Especially the gorgeous blonde man standing near the railing sipping on his beer.
"Really, now?" the Michigan baseball cap guy scooted his chair closer to mine.
The frustrated husband scooted his chair next to the Michigan baseball cap guy, "Monty. My name is Monty, this is Brett, and that over there is John. The salesman? I should blame the salesman, and not my wife?"
"Yes. Blame the salesperson. She was probably served champagne, and chocolate covered strawberries and told the garment fitted her perfectly, and the sale was only for that day she was there. She was probably an easy target for a big sale. Just like me."
Monty glanced at Brett, "Well, hell, I never considered all that."
