Most of my articles have more to do with gambling than this one does. This one is primarily about an adventure that Bonnie and I had in which we accidentally ended up in a red light district–of sorts.
We were aboard the Norwegian Cruise Lines Epic sailing from Miami to the eastern Caribbean. After two days at sea, our first port of call was Philipsburg, Sint Maarten, the Dutch capital city of a small island which is 2/3 French (and considered part of Europe) and 1/3 Dutch (and is considered part of the Netherlands Antilles.) We decided we needed to go shopping.
I had forgotten razor blades; she had lost a black sweater along the way; her camera needed AA batteries; and the strap on her dance shoes had broken away from the rest of the shoe, making the shoe unusable.
We figured that razor blades and batteries could be found anywhere — even shipboard if we didn’t mind paying a 50% surcharge — but it might be hard to find a shoe repair shop in Philipsburg. Most of the shops were geared toward tourists. After asking several locals, we were told that we could find a cobbler if we walked “one block this way” and “six or seven blocks that way.” The lady who gave us those directions looked at me strangely, like maybe I didn’t really want to get my shoes repaired? I couldn’t interpret her look, so off we went.
We quickly came to the Diamond Casino. I hadn’t prepared to gamble on this trip and only had a few hundred dollars on me at the time, but we decided to check it out anyway. It was approximately 50 feet wide by 100 feet long with maybe 100 machines and a handful of table games. Basically we found the same crappy pay schedules in the casino as we did on the ship–6-5 Jacks or Better, 16-13 Deuces Wild, 15-7-5 Joker Wild, etc. The pay schedules for dollars were slightly looser than for quarters, but to me, all were unplayable. Although I’ve been hosting Gambling with an Edge long enough to know that there are often real treasures to be found at the table games in some out-of-the-way casinos, I don’t know the subtleties of those games well enough to exploit anything. So we left to go find the shoe repair shop.
On Front Street, perhaps 40% of the stores sold diamonds–sometimes pre-made jewelry; sometimes loose stones. Possibly that much competition generates some good buys, but neither of us is knowledgeable about diamond values. One of the attractive things to me about Bonnie is that collecting expensive jewelry isn’t important to her. Other stores sold a wide variety of high end products.
Our destination, Back Street, which was only a block from Front Street, might as well have been a world away. Back Street was full of various discount shops. When we couldn’t locate the shoe repair shop, I suggested we step into a shoe store where one of the models displayed in the window looked like a suitable dance shoe for Bonnie. We wanted a small heel for her that was perhaps half an inch or more across at the base. We’re both seniors and we’ll never be competitive dancers, so safety and functionality are more important than style — but at the same time Bonnie does dress nicely so style is important too. For whatever reason, the shoes didn’t appeal to Bonnie so we passed on them. When we asked about a shoe repair shop, they pointed to the ceiling and said, “Second floor. Take the stairway outside.”
While there was no obvious stairway outside, there was an alley next to the store leading to some sort of courtyard. At the front of the alley, a big sign proclaimed that “Veronica’s Secrets” could be found back there. There were pictures of pretty, silicone-enhanced, dark-skinned island beauties wearing revealing lingerie. Although I didn’t do so intentionally, I realized that my eyes lingered on the sign a bit. I also noticed that one of house specialties was “Edible Underwear for Him and Her!”
In amusement, I showed the phrase to Bonnie. She disgustedly pulled my hand on down the alley, indicating we didn’t need anything that was sold in that store. At that particular moment, however, I found myself craving red licorice and wondering exactly what flavors were offered in that establishment.
We came to an unmarked stairway leading to the second floor. We both shrugged and went up the stairs hoping to get her shoe fixed. At the top was an unlocked door that we entered. A few feet further was another door with a window in it. Bonnie looked through the window and gasped. Wondering what was so unnerving to her, I also looked. I saw a hallway with two closed doors, each of which had a red light shining above the door. But I also saw a small sign that read “Island Talk Radio 1300 AM.” I’ve been in enough radio studios to infer that two separate radio shows were being broadcast (or taped for later broadcast) at the same time. The red lights are used to let people outside the studios know that they should be quiet and not enter these rooms while shows are being created.
Bonnie, however, hadn’t seen the sign and had a very different idea about what the red lights indicated. “We have to get out of here!” she urged. “We don’t want to be arrested for being near a whorehouse! What would my daughter think?”
I assured her that it was just a radio station. I offered to show her the sign, but she didn’t want to see it. While she probably believed me about it being a radio station, she still wanted to get out of there quickly. So we rapidly descended the stairs and alit in the courtyard near the entrance to Veronica’s Secrets. “Just wait here and I’ll go in and ask them about directions to the shoe repair shop.” I joked. “I promise to be back in less than three hours!”
“No you won’t!” Bonnie declared. She found another shop in the courtyard where we again asked directions. They directed us to another stairway which we climbed. At the top, finally, was a shoe repair shop where the smells of leather and ganja were generously intermixed.
“I can fix!” A skinny, pale black man said in lilting English. “Ten minute. Three dollar.” I had been prepared to haggle on the price, but $3 was so reasonable that I instantly agreed. During the ten minutes that we waited in the shop, a couple of different people came in, quietly exchanged money for packages, and left. I suspected that illegal substances (at least illegal in the United States) were being sold. I hoped the place wouldn’t be raided while we waited for our repaired shoe.
It wasn’t. His workmanship was good enough. I paid the man and we descended the stairs to the courtyard one more time. Maybe a contact high from the shoe repair shop had given me the munchies, but now I was thinking of red licorice again. I was almost certain that Bonnie wouldn’t be receptive to me going into the lingerie stop, so I needed to be persuasive.
“I know you’re looking for a black sweater,” was the best I could think of at the time. “It seems like Veronica’s Secrets sells a variety of women’s clothing. Let’s go check there!” My voice was filled with as much enthusiasm and optimism as I could muster.
“You’re impossible! Whatever am I going to do with you!” she exclaimed as she tugged on my arm. “We are NOT going in there. Don’t even THINK about it!”
Too late for that!
But, contact high or not, I realized this wasn’t the time to make a stand. I quietly accompanied her back into the city to finish our island excursion before heading back to the ship.
Tomorrow is Christmas. Best holiday wishes from both Bonnie and me to you and your family!
