Carnival -- Part I

Some of the older reporters and editors in the newsroom giggle at me when I ask newbie questions like, "So what's so great about this Carnival thing I keep hearing about?"

They think it's cute and they laugh at my innocence.

Little do they know.

Carnival is actually hard to explain. In the simplest way possible: it's basically a party that closes down the city for two weeks. Schools are off, banks are closed, prostitutes are shipped in from neighboring islands. It's a chance for the locals to take back their island, if only for a short time. Music concerts, food villages and booze flood the streets.

Since I work at a newspaper, it's a busy time for us. People love to lose their minds and have proof of the debauchery in tomorrow's edition.


Being the lone sports writer on staff, the higher-ups said I should cover the Water Sports & Activities event. Once again, simple terms here: A bunch of people -- over 5,000 -- crowd the harbor waterfront to see a bunch of Jet Skis, medium-sized boats and larger vessels race in a completely unorganized fashion.

Throw in some tent vendors, cheap rum and over-sized speakers blaring local crap music and you have yourself a nice little Sunday afternoon.


As if you couldn't pour any more fun onto this event, the Carnival organizers also have a "greased pole" event. In simple terms ... I'm sure you can figure it out.

They have a pole. They grease it up. They hang a flag on the end. If you grab the flag and don't fall in the water, you get $100. The whole spectacle attracted idiots from all directions. I saw several unsanctioned attempts on the flag by very drunk adults -- I think it's designed for children -- and then I lost interest before the actual event began.

I decided to grab a rum and punch and walk the crowd instead.

The Water Sports event is on the water front, which is the exact place I run every morning to train for an upcoming marathon. Before I left, I tried to estimate how many crushed beer cans and how much debris would tarnish my glorious training site the next day.

Confused and a little dehydrated, I tossed my empty cocktail cup in the trash and stumbled home.