BlaBla

It was in a theme park that he met with Petra again. A girl he snuggled with in the West Indies on a blue blue Monday. A mindless miniskirt with massive melons best defined this specimen. Because of the lack of brain the only attraction was a physical one. That is from his side. She on the other hand was all over him and into him.

It was just before closing time that they entered the Pagode. The most boring theme park attraction on the face of this earth. A representation of a Taiwanese Flying Temple. A sort of Ferris wheel without this excitement of a Ferris wheel. If there’s any. A residue from the late seventies when Legoland and leisure pools where the number one activities for us commoners.

A couple of crafty Dutch Marines cut of the roof and transformed it to a convertible. They must have thought: “What good is living in the tropics without a convertible”. It was a job well done. With an axe they cut holes in the floor to prevent it from flooding during tropical rains. A most magnificent car with some nice extras. No key was needed to start the engine. I just used the key proforma so nobody would find out about this secret. Also no rear view mirrors and no flashers. I named him Horatio Nelson, my flag ship.

Tropical roads become very slippery during rainfall. Especially after a long drought. One night back from the city it drizzled and we got into a full spin on top of the Juliana bridge. Although the spin took no longer than 5 seconds, it felt like ages. I remember a lively discussion in the car about what I should do to stop from spinning. “No breaks!” “No no, no gear!” “No no, Dó apply the brakes.” “No, just steer in the opposite direction!” It was like being part of movie shown in slow motion. I stopped the discussion short: “Guys, embrace yourselves. Incoming!"