Beach vacations demand the consumption of a certain amount of alcohol. This is best achieved with cocktails, the kind one rarely bothers to make at home. Wine is too expensive in this country at hotels: tax revenue is important for the country (not to mention hotel profit) and religion hopes that exorbitant prices will damper consumption. Beer is a suitable alternative.
Sitting on the deck in front of the bar, I overheard an interesting conversation that a young man had with the waiter...or rather a request he made. He was sitting with another young man and they had order drinks. He asked the waiter not to register the sale to his room (all orders are booked to a room) and that he would pay in cash. He explained that he did not want his mother to know that he was drinking alcohol. The next day I learned the reason for this request: he is young prince from a Middle Eastern country. His companion was his bodyguard. Mama was surely ensconced in the villa out of sight of male eyes, where she cannot kept her eye on the prince.
Not being a prince or a muslim, I never had that problem...
The “James Bond Marketing Machine” is going full bore, what with a new episode of the franchise to sell and the 50th anniversary of the first film to commemorate. Overall, I find that the stories became increasingly violent, deadly, and destructive, while concurrently being less plausible and/or credible.
Watching Dr. No, I was reminded that I was a very normal teenager. I had a picture of Ursula Andress, torn from a magazine, hanging on my dorm room wall. Of course, she was just one of many illusions I fell into and out of love with over those years. Teenage fantasies in that department were especially bountiful, as opposed to actual romance. And, I, like all healthy males, cannot avoid falling in love with a movie heroine.
The surprising thing is that I no longer find the Honey Chile to be attractive....
In her blog (which I noticed for the first time today), Hadley goes all Shakespearean—not in the prose or poetry, but in the storyline. It’s a cute story.
It reminds me of the time many years ago that I spotted a beautiful girl at a London Underground station, waiting on the opposite side. I considered rushing up the stairs, over the tracks, and down to the platform...but feared rejection and had no idea what to say. The train arrived, blocking the view, and then carried her away, leaving only a short-lived fantasy and memory. Of course, there was no Craigslist in those days, so she disappeared from all but my memory.
Prior to writing novels, the author enjoyed a multifaceted career: from decorated combat aviator to advertising professional to global communications director of a major consumer brand. He has traveled the world and met sports, film and television stars, political leaders, and royalty. He graduated from Middlebury College, is married, lives in Germany, and has two grown children.