This is a follow up to mid Saturday’s partial report. Wow, was I grouchy yesterday. Sorry.

Philipsburg was hot, way too crowded for me, and as a person who has almost zero interest in shopping unless it has to do with sailboat parts, almost entirely pointless. The boys were bored almost immediately as well, though Jake enjoyed a couple of minutes on a Segway gratis. Kim might have shopped little longer, but three big mopes looking like we’d rather be anywhere else kind of kills the mood. As a former teenaged hooligan, I did enjoy walking around with a beer in hand. Such a middle-aged rebel!

In response to yesterday’s post a couple or three people mentioned the 12-meter racing excursion for the boys. I never even considered it because while I like sailing more than most anything else, both boys claim to hate it. Matthew the older claims seasickness, but I don’t really believe him, I think it is actually homesickness for his Xbox. For the longest time Jake, the younger felt that I was clearly the stupidest man in the world, ergo, anything I liked to do must be stupid - apparently especially sailing. I do feel bad that these guys never got the sailing bug. It’s pretty wholesome good fun, and from what I gather, chicks dig it.

In associated news, Jake is getting to the age where I am beginning to work through my stupidness problem.

We stopped at SkipJacks on the way thru for lunch. If I remember right we have been to Lee's more than Skipjacks in the past. This lunch stop turned out to be the high point of the day, everybody really liked their food, and we were able to order a few good Painkillers. On our first night I had suggested to Jake the younger that he might like to try one when we stopped in at Talk of the Town. Of course, their painkiller is kind of basic, probably even more so on the astonishingly packed Fat Tuesday. To be clear, Skipjacks' Painkillers are superior. I ended up having two, delicious and analgesic. The server did promise pain relief; my bad elbow felt fine. Matthew the older had one, and you could see his eyes rolling around in his head. He wisely stopped. Jake the younger had one, and it just got him started towards other rum delicacies. He’s clearly the one to keep an eye on.

I should elaborate on SSBB. While a mere six inches above these words I complain about crowds, I somehow didn't mind them at SSBB. And it clearly is a place that just harvests money. One fellow I spoke with felt that it was Youtube that really made the place what it is today. Years ago it was nowhere near the same attraction, and cruise ship passengers would not have so readily considered it as a day trip. I am not sure the theory is right, but it sounded good to me, as I glugged a Margarita.

We usually stop in for an hour once each trip, because seriously, the planes are a cool spectacle you cannot readily see anywhere else in the world. And I realize I sounded negative in yesterday’s post about the girl at the bar with no top on. She was very lovely, and what kind of idiot doesn't like pretty girls naked boobs?

My younger one and I (the older still quite too pink yesterday) played in the surf and waited for the planes. We had planned to be there around 3 for the Air France 340 and the KLM 747. I got right on the glide path for the 340 and lay down in the sand. It was quite spectacular to have this big unit go so close overhead. There was no 747 on Saturday. We stayed for a couple more drinks; it was fun to watch the crowd thin so suddenly as the cruise shippers all hopped into their vans and taxis. Time to pack up and head back to the Villa.

The one noteworthy bit of the trip back was that we hit the bridge opening time on the Casueway. It was cool to the swing bridge in operation. It seems to me that swing bridges are getting more rare. This one is so white and fresh and new, it reminded me of a graceful bird swinging out and back. There sure is a varied collection of vessels moored right beside the bridge there. Some of them are gorgeous, some are beyond derelict.

After a couple of hours at the villa for showers and such we headed to Maho to give the guys a night on the town. We ate at 3 Amigos because we all love Mexican food, and it wasn’t bad at all. I can recommend the margarita there over the SSBB one. Our server was the most cheerful girl in the world, pleased to let me know that she was not French, but rather from Slovenia. I had to turn on the rarely-used geography bits of my brain to remember where exactly Slovenia is in the mess of Eastern European countries that we don’t pay much attention to. For those of you who would prefer not to delve far back into your highschool learnin’ it’s a small country that barely touches the Adriatic, and is bordered by Italy, Austria and Croatia, and a tiny bit of Hungary. This thanks to Google maps; however I got the Italy and Austria part without help last night.

And (nearly finally) it was off to the casino. Just as we get ready to cross the raod, a DJ announces that it’s show time. Six girls in costume make a good job of dancing to the kind of music that I don’t know the name of. Three quarters of the way through one vehicle decides he’s tired of waiting for them to get off the street and lays on the horn for the longest time. I thought that kind of rude.

Back to the Casino part of the story. As disinterested as I am in shopping, I like it way more than gambling. Not judging, it’s just not my thing. I do however like the idea of strolling through a casino with authority, as James Bond would if he wasn’t always so darned busy. I am sure all of you know this isn’t a Vegas scale of casino. I ran out of authoritative strolling areas pretty quickly. Jake ended up blowing 8 dollars on slots. Kim went window shopping.

I went outside and sat and listened to the entertainer at Cheri’s (Cheryl’s?). He is a big bearded black guy in drag with enormous fake boobs and giant [censored]. He’s riffing over an endless cycle of “Don’t Worry be Happy” singing different baudy verses about the dinner guests. He was actually quite funny, the naughty lyrics stayed just outside the boundaries of good taste.

Finally, just some sitting on a bench, listening to the music and hubbub, and a ride home. Again, I arrive pretty well ready to pass out. Sun and wind and swimming and admittedly, one too many strong beverages throughout the day can really take it out of an old guy.

Here’s another thing, somehow the charger for my Macbook Pro gives you the tiniest, almost imperceptible electric shock while plugged in to 240 V with an adapter. My wrists feel as though the edge of the hand-rest is sharpened. I can’t figure out why this would happen.