Too Much Bajan Ruralism For Tired Bones

After two long nights on the town in a stretch, massive amounts of driving and office work, a serious conversation, bad news about a baby and a near 6 hour turn men into horny, slobbering goats while boosting my ego session, I was too exhausted to stand.
I was supposed to put on a hairnet and dispatch grease balls to grease balls (or rather small, oily, fishless flour cakes to rum drunken, piss on their hands customers) but instead, I sat on the grass near the playground and found a drop of joy in the smiles of children genuinely happy to see me shouting "Auntie Nicole!!" and even bending down to throw their arms around my withered bones.

The PTA carry your own key session was just too much Bajan ruralism for me to endure in the condition I was in, however. Tracker is sweaty and shirtless, on his back, jucking the sky to calypso. Every sing song in between is a Celine Dion/Whitney monstrosity. Big boys are carrying around their babies proudly, scoping the dark park for the pusher man. Bigger women are standing up in clusters of bling watching like foreman and hollering at some child to behave.

It was fun. But not when the spirit's requirement is a bed.

I eventually got up and left when the cellphones started ringing and the country began to inform itself that (last update I received) two young boys smashed a truck on the black and white bridge in Blackman's corner and subsequently died. There was a hum of "yuh mean de young dark boy wid de plait hair?", "de boys dat does cyarry de grass?", "dat ain't dem truck- a man di give dem dat fuh drive.", "you pass down dere and see?", "Go' Lin' dere muss be bare people out dere, yeah."

There was no mallice in the way the information was passed and actually people looked kind of sorry but there was a definite sense that they would rather be there at Blackman's corner, catching a glimpse of the wreckage before two sons carried them away than in the park supporting a PTA fundraising event. And I decided, if they would rather be there than here, I can go home. And I did.