They're always French...

There's this thing at work, a kind of ladder we use to measure how much tips we will probably get. Not that you can ever know, but in general cruise ships tip the least (because the ship charges them so much for the activity as it is and I've learnt that people on cruises tend to watch their money a little more), then 1-hour rides, then 2-hour rides and the most from private rides.

This ladder fell from right under my feet today, as I was "generously" given 2 private rides. The first, a group of 4, had 1 repeat customer and the rest from the cruise ship. They couldn't really ride so after the first trot I seriously reconsidered making it any faster. I was also perturbed to hear one of them ask the older man at the back "is your back alright?" A bad back? And we're trotting? OK, we're slowing down. How selfish of the rest of the group for even wanting to go faster. So, at the request of the old man, we kept it walking. That ride was a $10 tip.

The second, very private with just one Canadian woman, was a bit more fun as she could ride better but not amazingly, and when I took her faster the little-girl grin that spread across her face showed she loved it. She was holidaying with her parents, but was over 30 (said she left her husband at home, I'd like to believe her) and said it was her mum's idea but that she really enjoyed it. At the bar, she bought me a guavaberry colada and then left. No tip. Here I was just starting to have faith in Canadians.

After all this, I was getting tired and a little frustrated. All about to get worse, of course, as I was informed that since I was the only one finished with my lunch break, I was on pony ride duty. Frustration mounts. I have 16 screaming kids running around me, "I'M NEXT I'M NEXT I'M NEXT!!" I'll tell you what's fucking next, a clobbering in your face is what.

Making matters worse was the partyzilla of a mum whose kid was having the birthday party, being bitchy about the fact 5 kids weren't able to ride together on the pony rides. She didn't seem to grasp my explanation that the kids were 4, could not control a horse themselves and needed their own guide. We don't have 5 guides at your disposal. And the others are on lunch. In the end, one of them was taken off their lunch an hour early just to get the rides done. Then I had to listen to his bitching behind me as we walked the horses around. Urgh.

There were no more rides booked for the afternoon (except E and her nannying kid, who didn't make it) so we started unsaddling and were about to feed when 2 mums came for some more pony rides. These kids were actually cute little rastas and it wasn't nearly as painful doing the rides with them. But that was about it for my limit of dealing with kids for the day.

I finished work right on 5pm and went home shortly after to change before going to Pineapple Pete's for internet. It was playing up at work again. Was waiting momentarily for E who said I could take my computer to her place and use the internet there, but I realised it was much more efficient to just take myself to the sports bar and do my thing until she called. Thankfully, since it was a while before I heard from her.

It being my last Saturday night, she was keen in having some drinks so we went to her place for some wine and cheese, before heading to Sky Bar. This was definitely the coolest bar I'd been to on the island, on a rooftop and covered in sand, with little pods you could sit cross-legged on and table service. Of course it came with a price tag, and before we knew it, we'd consumed a $50 bottle of wine! Oops.

It was about this time, as I watched Dirty Dancing play beside the DJ booth, that E got a BBM message from her boyfriend that Whitney Houston had died. My thoughts instantly went to my sister, who is the biggest Whitney fan I know - then I kept drinking and forgot about it until the next day.

When we finished the wine, we left and made loose plans with the bartender to catch up later. E knew some of the staff cos her boss part-owns the bar I think, but I also know this particular bartender would not have minded at all spending more time with my friend... She was looking very nice that night.

We took E's car back home and then walked to Bliss (accompanied by E's house security guard), the club by the airport beach (Maho) which I'd only ever been to on New Years Day (at about 3:30am) so my memory isn't fabulous of it. It was some kind of mask party and we were given some cheap cardboard things to put on when we arrived, so I wore it for some fun and we busted some sweet moved (or at least I assume they were sweet) on the dancefloor.

At one point, I kinda crash-tackled E from behind when I jumped on her, knocking the drink out of a woman's hand behind me. I saw it all but didn't care, thought she'd just get over it and keep dancing, but when I looked over from the bar I'd walked to, I saw she'd started harassing E for knocking her drink. And kept harassing her. She had no idea what the woman was talking about. When I saw she was getting stalked by this woman, I stepped in and explained it was me that spilt the drink, apologised and offered to buy her a new one.

The woman - French, of course - said she didn't care about the drink but just wanted the incident to be acknowledged and have an apology. OK then. 2 minutes ago she was threatening to "go outside and sort it out" with E. 2 minutes later she was hugging (a very confused) E and we were all dancing together. The French, huh!

I called time when she started getting messages from the bartender, about 3:30am, saying he was heading somewhere else. No way. I had an early start for Saba the next day. E was too drunk to drive me home so we walked security guard-less (it's only about 200m) to pass out in various corners of the house. I snagged her super-comfy bed while she curled up in the foetal position on a couch in her lounge room, clothes strewn everywhere. Ahh, the life of a drunk.