The Long Good Friday
Good Friday in Bermuda isn’t that good at all. Basically the whole place is closed. Apparently, god told them to do it. They are a very god fearing nation. With that in mind, my subsequently suggesting god has got it wrong isn’t going to go down too well. I’d like to bet God didn’t tell them smoking the magic weed was a very Christian thing to do, but does that stop them? No, it does not.
So, today is my birthday. The plan is simple. Head out to the beach for around dawn for a walk and a paddle. Back to the hotel for some serious pool time. Sauté my ass lightly in the hot tub. Head into town for a swift shandy… then head to the eponymous Ruby Murray’s Indian restaurant. What could possibly go wrong? God. That’s what. God gave us the beach and the sea. God gave us the pool. God gave us the hot tub for my ass. God even ruled that the curry house could open on Good Friday. However, because it is Good Friday, it says in the bible apparently that buses must stop running at 7pm. God hates the fact I’m retired and can’t afford a taxi.
And I know what you’re thinking. it’s your birthday, get a taxi you tight git!! Taxis in Bermuda are £9 per mile and 25% extra on Good Friday because God hates tourists. Look, it’s fine, I’ll just stay sober on my birthday and not go out to eat. God doesn’t know me very well do he??
Change of plan. It’s approaching midday by the time I come to terms with the fact I won’t be able to eat curry on my birthday, because god hates me. We are going on a route march in the midday sun to the bus stop! Are buses even running, we’ll find out. We are heading into Hamilton we are going to find food and beer and god can’t stop us.
Google maps lies to us and tells us Bermuda is running 4 buses an hour down our road. The first 15 mins pass with no bus. Snuckems isn’t happy. Bitch got dressed for cocktails not for baking in the sun. “There’s no such thing as the wrong weather, just the wrong clothing” I remind her for the 900th time. She swings her cocktail handbag at my cock-tail and misses. No sense of bloody humour. In what seems like no time at all to those of us equipped with calves of steel and sensible shoes, the bus arrives. We really weren’t dressed up, but let’s just say neither were the rest of the Bermudan population. I believe Good Friday is either dress down day here or perhaps "homeless chic" is really in for 2025.
This isn’t our first rodeo. I make direct eye contact with the hardest looking bad ass pot head on the bus, smile and say “Good Afternoon”. The two of his many millions of brain cells, which aren’t yet blasted by home grown ganja, force him to return my courtesy. This may be a nation full of potheads. But they are soooo polite!
We arrive at Hamilton bus station some 30 minutes later. Hamilton today reminds me of Legend with Will Smith. No one is here. Maybe it was an over night nuclear winter, maybe a toxic virus took out the population in a terrible pandemic. But everyone is gone. All the shops are shut. All the cafes are shut. All the bars are shut.
But wait we may be saved. KFC is open because god loves fried chicken! Also, the Irish bar is open because god loves Guinness.
Snuckems doesn’t like either option. But it’s not her birthday. So she can do one… I vote unanimously to go to the Irish bar. Transpires they do cocktails so we won’t starve. The bar is up approximately 400 stairs which again doesn’t endear me to my wife, but our calves probably needed the extra work out. Our efforts are rewarded as we are seated on the balcony. Not directly in the sun but close enough to a palm tree to remind us we will be drinking cocktails in fucking paradise. (Albeit in an Irish Bar on a busy main road). As we hadn’t eaten in a while I order nibbles to go with my dark and stormy. As I appear to be wasting away, the waiter recommends the loaded waffle fries to stave off the on set of malnutrition. This is approximately a shovel full of waffle fries, deep fried in lard, covered in cheese, and gravy, and bacon, and cheese and gravy and corned beef and lard and onions and cheese. Pop it in the oven on gas mark 9 for 10 minutes et voila… a shovel full of perfection. The little lady had something vegetarian because she’s WEAK!
It transpires this really was the place to be on a religious holiday. The local Mr Big rocks up with his gangster’s moll, wooden leg and Cuban cigars. He asks where he can smoke and they tell him, the place is smoke free, so he can smoke wherever he wants. He jokes with the owner about burning the place down and his “wife” laughs like a banshee. He clocks my food being carried from the kitchen by two of the strongest chefs they have and gives a nod of respect in our direction.
Snuckems is in her element, the cocktails are flowing quicker than you can say Irish Daiquiri, Mudslide, Mojito, Dark and Stormy … slow down bitch. We already blew the 25% tax free cash from my pension on the hotel!! At this point a sparrow flies in and lands by the table. Snuckems leans over and said “Oh my god asparagus landed right next to me!” … she actually said “a Sparrow”. I’m not remotely drunk at this point, but honestly this is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. I explain the hilarious confusion to anyone who would listen, they sit stoney faced. It’s almost as if we are the only ones who are smit faked .. I mean shit faced!
In stage whispers we take a pledge of sobriety from this point onwards and for the rest of our lives hic … and just order one last cocksmail for the road!
I’m not sure how we made it back down the stairs and to the bus station. Not because I don’t remember, it’s just I don’t really remember. I do remember being at the bus station and finding everything very funny. Snuckems went and took a seat at the wrong bus stop between two very respectable old ladies as she struggled to maintain her stability as the earth span uncontrollably. I, having fortunately recovered from my racist tendencies of the other day had a tremendous urge to join in a sign language conversation. What. Is. Wrong. With. Me? Oh I know, cocktails! Bermudan cocktails, Irish cocktails, cocktails have poisoned my sweet innocent mind!
Miraculously we arrive at our stop having not caused a fight or fallen from our seats. We disembark and we perform a military salute to the remaining passengers as they leave. I refuse to walk back to the hotel until Snuckems sings happy birthday to me in the street and takes it VERY seriously.
We arrive at the hotel and resolve to go immediately to the pool. GREAT plan! I lay momentarily on the bed and sleep descends over me to save me from an unfortunate drowning incident in the infinity pool!
Did I have the birthday I’d planned, a couple of beers and a curry in paradise, nope. Did my birthday kick your birthday’s ass? Well, as I recall it did, but me recalling my birthday is quite difficult at this point.