Jamaica

Ya mon.

Today, September 19, is International Talk Like a Pirate Day. This is a day when literally billions of people all over the world — people of all ages; people of many different nationalities and faiths — do not talk like pirates, either because they never heard of International Talk Like a Pirate Day, or because they think it's stupid.

And of course it is stupid. Nevertheless I participate in it, because it's partly my fault. It wasn't my idea; it was an idea that two Oregon guys, John Baur and Mark Summers, had one day while playing racquetball. But I helped popularize it by writing a column about it, so now I feel obligated to talk like a pirate on September 19.

The easiest way to do this, I have found, is to end sentences with "me hearties!" This makes whatever you're saying sound piratical and fun, as in these examples:

-- "Avast, me hearties!"

-- "Bob, I'm afraid we have to terminate your position, me hearties!"

-- "Why no, officer, I have not been drinking, me hearties!"

-- "There shall be allowed as a deduction all the ordinary and necessary expenses paid or incurred during the taxable year in carrying on any trade or business, including traveling expenses (including amounts expended for meals and lodging other than amounts which are lavish or extravagant under the circumstances) while away from home in the pursuit of a trade or business, me hearties!"

That last example is a direct quotation from the U.S. Tax Code section on deductible travel expenses. I include it here because my actual topic today is a trip I took to Jamaica this past weekend, during which I incurred a number of rum punches necessary business-related expenses.

Aside from doing research on Jamaica for the legitimate business purpose of writing this column, the reason for the trip was to attend the 60th birthday celebration of Michelle's old friend Ken Ewell. Ken and Michelle met in first grade and were classmates all the way through high school. They're part of a tight-knit group of classmates who love to reminisce about their school days, which means that during their reunions we spouses get to listen to many fascinating conversations involving people and events we know nothing about:

First Classmate: Remember (NAME)? Ha ha!

Second Classmate: Yes! That time in Biology! With Mr. (NAME)!

Third Classmate: Right! And remember (NAME)? With that thing? Ha ha!

Fourth Classmate: Ohmigod yes! And don't forget (NAME), (NAME) and (NAME)!

(They roar with laughter as their spouses head to the bar.)

But other than that, Ken is a great guy, and over the years he has become my good friend, too.

Ken and me

Ken’s birthday celebration took place in Montego Bay, a popular Jamaican tourist area. We flew into the Montego Bay airport, where we went through the immigration and customs procedure used in most Caribbean tourist destinations. This procedure — which is always overseen by people who appear mildly annoyed, as if they came to the airport hoping for peace and solitude, only to have all these darned tourists show up — generally works like this:

1. After you deplane, you enter a very warm — possibly even heated — building and get into a long, shuffling, aromatic line of fellow tourists.

2. When you finally reach the front of the line, you produce your passport, and you receive an official piece of paper. This means you are, at last, free to...

3. Get into another line.

4. When you finally reach the front of the second line, they take back the official piece of paper. It is not clear why, if they wanted to keep the paper, they gave it to you in the first place. Maybe they have a paper shortage. But it's best not to ask questions. The point is, now, at long last, you are free to...

5. Get into another line.

6. When you reach the front of the third line, if all goes well, a mildly annoyed person will grudgingly decide that you have demonstrated the patience, determination and heat tolerance that the nation is looking for in a tourist candidate, and you will, at last, be admitted.

We made the cut, which was good, because it turns out that Jamaica is a delightful place, populated by smart, proud and funny people. (As a professional journalist, I am qualified to make sweeping generalizations about a nation of nearly 3 million people based on visiting a tiny area of it for a little under 48 hours.) Everybody we encountered was friendly and helpful; apparently all the cranky Jamaicans are at the airport, trying to keep tourists out. The beaches are beautiful; you hear reggae music everywhere; and people actually say "ya mon," even, as far as I could tell, when they're not speaking to us tourists.

And the rum, me hearties!

Immediately upon arriving at our hotel we were issued potent rum punches. I know they were potent because of how I responded to a statue in the hotel of Jamaica's first prime minister, Sir Alexander Bustamante:

The statue's shirt is open because of a famous incident in 1938, before Jamaica gained its independence, when Bustamante confronted some British soldiers during a labor protest, defiantly baring his chest at them. Of course as an idiot American tourist, I did not know this. All I knew was that, having just consumed a rum punch, I needed a picture of me with the statue.

That’s me on the left.

That was not the only foolish thing I did in Jamaica under the influence of rum punch. I also attempted to do a line dance called "Boots on the Ground," which is so trendy that the New York Times did a story about it.

During Ken's birthday festivities I was watching some people do this dance, and, after somewhere between two and seven rum punches, I decided I'd give it a try. I mean, I may be old, but, dammit, back in my heyday (May 3, 1967) I was something of a dancer: I did the Jerk, the Watusi, the Hully Gully and even — yes — the Shingaling. Granted, these dances all looked identical the way I did them, which was by standing in one spot and gyrating randomly while frowning. But still.

So I got up and attempted to learn the "Boots on the Ground" dance. It involves repeating a certain sequence of steps, as demonstrated, seemingly effortlessly, by the two women in this YouTube video:

My teacher was Ric Ramsey, one of Ken's college classmates. He was extremely patient with me, but it was a struggle. I reinforced every unfortunate stereotype about white guys and dancing. It was like trying to teach a manatee to play the bagpipes.

Nevertheless, after — this is a conservative estimate — 17 dozen failed attempts, I managed to successfully execute the entire step sequence. I did this exactly once. At that point everybody cheered, and Ric and I hugged the way men do when they have completed a grueling mission that they both know they will never, under any circumstances, attempt again.

So I'm not much of a dancer. But here's the weird thing: While I was in Jamaica, I participated in the recording of a music video. Really. What happened was, Michelle needed some Vitamin C, so we walked to a Montego Bay pharmacy, which sold a wide range of products, including salted nuts and boric acid suppositories.

On our way back to the hotel, smack dab in the middle of downtown Montego Bay, we came across a famous local singer, Shuga, recording a music video. She and her band were on a raised platform performing the song "Montego Bay," which will be on her forthcoming album "Girl from Montego Bay." On the street below her were some dancers, including guys on stilts. Here's a video:

While Michelle and I were enjoying the music, one of the producers waved us over and invited us to participate in the video. "We want tourists in it," he said. "Please hang around." So we hung around, and we even danced. Here I am executing my signature dance move, the Boomer:

I don't know if I'll make the final cut of Shuga's video, but I hope I do, because if so, as I interpret the tax code, I can deduct the cost of my Jamaica trip twice.

In conclusion, Jamaica — assuming they let you in — is a wonderful tourist destination, featuring lovely people, a friendly vibe, fun activities, potent drinks, beautiful scenery, excellent music and, above all, boric acid suppositories. You should definitely visit sometime, me hearties!

And now, speaking of me hearties, it's time for you paying subscribers to weigh in.