Tres Dias

Each day dawns a new tale. Two nights ago the owner of Wally’s tossed out Charo, one of the leading “Ladies of Luperon”. That was odd as she practically lived there. But out she went. Spectators say she exited the doorway airborne and landed in the rubble that doubles as the street. The owner then “helped her up” by the throat and marched her down the dark road. No word was mentioned on what happened after that. 

The next morning I sat up on the bridge and watched a sailboat slowly motoring towards me. When he cut left and began spinning around the vessel moored to my right, I noticed his anchor chain was in the water. Instead of setting the anchor, he sat in his cockpit talking on his cell phone. After a good ten minutes the guy he was circling got nervous and radioed for help. Three dinghies shot out to aid the whirling dervish. I wasn’t one of them since, as a matter of protocol, the gyrating vessel hadn’t ask for assistance. My guess was he was engrossed in a good conversation and was content to sail around in circles until it was concluded. Perhaps it was an old flame he hadn’t chatted up in a while. Or his mom who kept asking what all that shouting in the background was about. Eventually, he moved off with the dinghies following him like sparrows chasing a hawk.
Two commercial fishing boats then entered into the harbor, followed by a sailboat with purple sail covers manned by three Dominicans. You don’t usually see Dominicans in pleasure craft, especially ones with purple sail covers. But there they were defying the odds. They sailed around in circles a number of times before disappearing behind one of the larger boats.
That evening next to Wally‘s, at the place where those of us not seeking intimate contact hang out, the owner got into it with an American ex-pat named Linda. He claimed she wasn’t spending any money there. She claimed he was telling everyone she’d fuck anything that didn’t move fast enough. That’s when I left. Expert witnesses reported that she came back with some money and marched into the kitchen where round two ensued. And neither of them even drink!
Today’s saga is Mike. He crewed in with a guy who could charitably be described as “Type A”. Upon anchoring, Mike jumped ship, but not before the Captain grabbed his passport. He claimed Mike had no right to depart and that as captain he was responsible for him, just like an overseer for an indentured servant. I understand a lawyer’s been engaged. That will ultimately involve the Commandante of the harbor. One thing is certain, it’s going to get expensive.
Then there’s the continuing saga of Bonefish Bill. He’s a Bahamian who crewed in with an American named Dave. Neither of them realized that you can’t bring in a foreign national without a visa. Neither also knew how to shackle an anchor. When they dropped it in the harbor (and then went to sleep) it unbuckled itself. They woke up "anchor free", deeply entrenched in the mangroves. 
Dave promised Bill he’d sort everything out. Then he jumped his own ship and flew off. He left Bill with a $100USD which he promptly spent on intimate contact at Wally’s. Meanwhile, his wife in Nassau keeps calling him saying she has no money and that his kids are hungry. With no cash, no prospects and no possibility of getting away, we’re all watching him uneasily. There’s talk about someone taking him back across to the Bahamas, but that’s called smuggling. You could lose your boat. There’s also talk of renting him a room. My idea is to hook him up with Linda. After all, she’ll fuck…………………… oh never mind.