Wild Jamaica


Stupid Motherfucker

The bartender had been playing coy with the shots of Appleton Rum and I felt myself growing increasingly annoyed when I crash landed into a conversation with a couple Jamaican-British blokes about universal pan-African behavior and Idris Elba. After some mild whining about the cocktail strength, I convinced the bartender to make me something she’d personally drink—you know, when she wasn’t pregnant. What she came up with was a blue curacao Long Island that had a reputation among the locals and a special name that she refused to share. I saw giggling from her co-workers as I began to drink her concoction, but I couldn’t be bothered with their innuendo and inside-joking. The drink was too good! After a few sips, I realized that the Appleton had crept into my blood easy and smooth like summer mosquitoes. I was buzzed. Leaning into our conversation, I asked the two Brits what they thought of Idris Elba, partially because they were Black, but more because they spoke in the same Cockney accent.