Mortification Personified

We arrived in Jamaica two days before my wedding and there really wasn't a whole lot to do prior to the wedding (they pretty much took care of it). It was an opportunity to relax and enjoy everything the beautiful island had to offer. Other than the fact that my father almost took a young man up on his offer of "Ganja" (weed) because he had no idea what it was, the trip was pretty much what I expected.

In other words it was Country Comes To Town. My father is the typical black sock and sandal wearing tourist and my mother believes in everything that IS the fanny pack.

One morning P and I were getting ready to hit the beach, when we heard this HORRIBLE racket. We could tell someone was trying to sing but we couldn't make the words out. I didn't pay it too much attention until P asked me to come out to the balcony. What did my poor eyes behold?

My mother and father are holding these three old Jamaican men with their homemade instruments hostage. Typically, these men walk around the resort, play a verse, you give them a dollar and they move on. Nuh huh.

My father has gotten a Rubbermaid chair from somewhere and is sitting there watching my mother make a fool out of herself. She is trying to sing with these poor men (who look desperate and are blinking their eyes rapidly in an attempt to signal for help) and she knows none of the words. But she was acting like she wrote the song. And to make matters worse, she is clapping and stomping her feet. She is GETTING WITH IT.

"Do you think we should go tell them to let those guys go?" P asked.

"I'm not going down there! Are you kidding me? I don't want anyone to know we are with them!" I exclaimed. I know I was being a snot but if you could have seen the spectacle they were making you would have acted the same way. They looked like mental patients.

"Well honey...those poor old guys are losing money. Your parents have set up camp." P pleaded with me. At this time, mother kicks it up a notch. Evidently, she assumed they were singing the chorus.

"He na fa cor se ba de flora toe nay!" She sings from the top of her lungs. There were no distinguishable words.

"Yeah...I guess your right," P said. "You want to go down the back stairs?"