My flight to Nicaragua went by in a snap because I made friends with a nice Nica lady who was on her way to visit her mother. Upon landing we were greeted in third world charm by crews of airport workers in Swine Flu masks, and were made to stand before a thermal imaging device the purpose of which none of us were able to determine for sure, but which we imagined to have something to do with H1N1.
The beautiful Pamela was the Flor de Caña crew member to greet us and show us to our bus, where we would spend much of the next week. Freddy the bartender was on duty at the ice chest, and within half an hour of landing in Nicaragua I had a cocktail in my hand. This is most certainly my preferred way to travel…
We were fortunate enough to have the amiable Freddy as our designated Cantinero for the week.
We waited for a while for the last group of travelers to arrive, and then proceeded to the hotel. We were put up in none other than the Intercontinental Metrocenter. Dinner the first night was taken at the restaurant El Churasco near the hotel. The only thing more abundant than the succulent cuts of meat was the Flor de Caña—a theme that would predominate the rest of the trip. (When you are traveling as the guest of a rum company, you drink the company juice—and the company juice, in this case, is mighty fine.) After dinner we were taken across the street to the Diamond Club. The Diamond Club, as you might imagine, is not the sort of establishment that deals in precious gemstones. The jewels of this place were of the human form, and within a few minutes of our arrival, their human forms were all over us.
At this point anyone who knows me well might wonder what the hell I was doing in a strip joint. Well, when in Rome… I have spent a fair amount of time in American strip joints with straight friends. In the American strip joint it is possible to enjoy the stage show without an extreme amount of unwanted attention from the strippers. However in a central American strip joint, such is not the case. At the late hour of our arrival, the ratio of women to men was roughly that of mosquitos to humans in a swamp, with the women being only slightly more persistent than the mosquitos.
Flor de Caña was soon on the table and the women were on the laps, although not on mine, though looking back I should have just gone with the flow. I am thankful to James, one of our hosts, for being gracious enough to rescue me at one point and retire with me to the bar, where he told one of the girls who approached us that he and I were just having a chat, and that we didn’t like girls. Thanks to James for taking one for the team!
We were treated to a limited number of dances and an unlimited amount of rum, the latter of which being what I partook of fully. I finally stumbled my happy ass back to the hotel some time after the 4 o’clock hour, though I can’t say for sure. I know that I woke up in all of my clothes, spread out across the king size bed, having made no apparent effort to utilize the pillows or covers. An ease for the housekeepers, to be sure, but a sign of a very unpleasant morning to come, in the form of a hangover for the record books. We boarded the bus and headed for the distillery.
