Guess it's time to start a new Peng Challenge thread

[Joe Shaw]

Fer cryon' oot loud! Will yoo twae ninnies stop swingin' ye hand bags a' each other an' roll ye knee-stockin's back oop?

Handbags and knee stockings ... no, not really ... of course SOME men do use them I'm told:

Joe

[Stuka]

A man that looks like a white square with a red cross????

[Boo Radley]

Today's "Afternoon Special" deals with the art of the non sequitor and how Stuka, quite by accident, seems to have mastered it. Oh, and how he's a complete git.

[Michael Emrys]

Do you suppose that Stuka is actually Shaw's unacknowledged love child? I know, somehow 'love' just doesn't seem to belong in that sentence, but what can you do?

Michael

[Boo Radley]

Unacknowledged?

That pretty much goes without saying.

By everyone, probably.

[costard]

Arise squire, *Boot* take the bucket and go to all the good kaniggits of the pool asking for donations. Well yes, there won't be many, good and pool are exclusive terms, but be a good lad and go forth. Watch out for Seanachai, if he has been drinking [and when has he not?] it may take hours for him to drain his bladder.

Rune

I thank my Lord Rune for the consideration, if not the sentiment so ineptly conveyed. May your achilles be knitted anew by the skills so dearly rented, may the drugs be surpassingly addictive.

I have the bucket, suitably encrusted with such jewels as Michael's wit and Peng's tolerance, Boo's good taste and Senachai's incomparable prose; it waits beneath you all for the shower of delights you are all able to bestow, unwilling as you might be. I bask.

House Shaw! Your infertile minds have no hope, your gammy legs and your swollen prostates betray your misspent youth, your decrepitude and your imminent fall to Hades; your intimate and encyclopaedic experience of the filthiest diseases known to mankind are only the means by which you are known to each other, they hold no fear for me. Nor do you, you bretheren of the infernal House.

I challenge you!!!! You!!!! You pissant feebles, with your supercilious and linguistically incompetent sneers, don't you realise you only have three teeth to show between you?! And those, molars - your grins of smug inferiority display to all the world your genetic isolation, your inability to sow the seeds of anything but your deserved demise, your willingness to stand and watch and applaud as the windmill lays the good Don flat on his back, again. Dream! Dream of defeating the good House Rune, for without that dream your existence is as meaningless as the mad Dane's friendship, and you might as well plait the rope that hangs Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

Bah!, I appeal to your sense of shame, that unexercised emotion you have decried as surplus to requirements. Shame upon myself, that I should appeal to your ilk for an example of worthy combat, against a worthy foe.

[Michael Emrys]

House Shaw! Your infertile minds have no hope, your gammy legs and your swollen prostates betray your misspent youth, your decrepitude and your imminent fall to Hades; your intimate and encyclopaedic experience of the filthiest diseases known to mankind are only the means by which you are known to each other, they hold no fear for me. Nor do you, you bretheren of the infernal House.

I challenge you!!!! You!!!! You pissant feebles, with your supercilious and linguistically incompetent sneers, don't you realise you only have three teeth to show between you?! And those, molars - your grins of smug inferiority display to all the world your genetic isolation, your inability to sow the seeds of anything but your deserved demise, your willingness to stand and watch and applaud as the windmill lays the good Don flat on his back, again. Dream! Dream of defeating the good House Rune, for without that dream your existence is as meaningless as the mad Dane's friendship, and you might as well plait the rope that hangs Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

Bah!, I appeal to your sense of shame, that unexercised emotion you have decried as surplus to requirements. Shame upon myself, that I should appeal to your ilk for an example of worthy combat, against a worthy foe.

There! Now didn't I say, lo these many months ago, that the boy showed promise? Too bad he's fallen in with such a bad lot as House Rune, as beggarly a lot of blackguards as walk the earth, led by a man who cannot seem to even find which way is north. But if his spirit is not utterly corrupted by his new associates, perhaps he may do a bit of House cleaning, ay wot?

Michael

[MrSpkr]

Bah!, I appeal to your sense of shame, that unexercised emotion you have decried as surplus to requirements.

Dgo Xia has no sense of shame. Haven't you seen the pictures of the Mormon Wives?

Steve

[Joe Shaw]

Dgo Xia has no sense of shame. Haven't you seen the pictures of the Mormon Wives?

Steve

What ... you mean like these?

But enough of this ... I've more important matters to deal with than your fantasies MrSpkr. I, as the Beloved Justicar for Life of the Peng Challenge Thread, must decide if Costard (spelt but not bolded*) is indeed to be granted to the not so tender mercies of rune (may his name be as cursed as the scenarios he foists off on us) as Squire.

For look you lads, Costard (spelt but not bolded*) was proposed as Serf to the CessPool by ... well I can't find evidence that he was ever proposed as Serf and none that he was OFFICIALLY accepted as such.

It would ill serve the lad if we just GAVE him to rune ... it's probably against the law or somefink.

So I'm afraid that I can't, in good concien ... consienc ... will agree to grant the lad Squire status without some PROOF that (viii) he was proposed as Serf and {^%$] it was rune that did the proposing and therefore has Rights of First Refusal.

Rules are rules and nothing less say I.

Joe

* (sbnb status granted temporarily pending further validation of Serf status)

Stupid Interwebtubes ...

[Sergei]

What ... you mean like these?

Stolen Mormon wives? I guess possession is 90% of law even in the Book of Mormon...

[Boo Radley]

For look you lads, Costard (spelt but not bolded*) was proposed as Serf to the CessPool by ... well I can't find evidence that he was ever proposed as Serf and none that he was OFFICIALLY accepted as such.

It would ill serve the lad if we just GAVE him to rune ... it's probably against the law or somefink.

So I'm afraid that I can't, in good concien ... consienc ... will agree to grant the lad Squire status without some PROOF that (viii) he was proposed as Serf and {^%$] it was rune that did the proposing and therefore has Rights of First Refusal.

Rules are rules and nothing less say I.

Joe

* (sbnb status granted temporarily pending further validation of Serf status)

Aww, jeez...This is the part of my job that I truly hate. Well, along with pretty much everything else about it. Except for the badge. I really, really like the badge. And that it's also a whistle. That is cool!

But I digress.

Beloved Justicar of the Peng Challenge Thread, in my official capacity as Auxilliary Backup Deputy Justicar of the Peng Challenge Thread, I do by state and acknowledge for the record that Rune (He of the truly horrid and monumentally unbalanced scenarios) did indeed propose the SSN, Costard (Spelt, but not bolded) as serf of the Cesspool by his authority as head of House Rune.

I questioned the validity of said House, but could find nothing of precedence in the histories and so must believe that a House is a House, even if it merely has upstart status and a certain nouveau riche quality.

Unless, that is, YOU can come up with a valid (Or at least plausible) reason to toss Rune's request out the door (And I have a whole five dollars for you if you can).

[Joe Shaw]

Aww, jeez...This is the part of my job that I truly hate. Well, along with pretty much everything else about it. Except for the badge. I really, really like the badge. And that it's also a whistle. That is cool!

But I digress.

Beloved Justicar of the Peng Challenge Thread, in my official capacity as Auxilliary Backup Deputy Justicar of the Peng Challenge Thread, I do by state and acknowledge for the record that Rune (He of the truly horrid and monumentally unbalanced scenarios) did indeed propose the SSN, Costard (Spelt, but not bolded) as serf of the Cesspool by his authority as head of House Rune.

I questioned the validity of said House, but could find nothing of precedence in the histories and so must believe that a House is a House, even if it merely has upstart status and a certain nouveau riche quality.

Unless, that is, YOU can come up with a valid (Or at least plausible) reason to toss Rune's request out the door (And I have a whole five dollars for you if you can).

Well you see lad, I have managed to uncover evidence that there is, at the least, some controversy about the elevation of young Costard (spelt but not bolded) to the Serfdom. And it behooves us to climb every mountain, ford every stream and follow every rainbow in our efforts to thwart the evil rune in his quest ... whatever that might be ... if for no other reason than it's rune.

But it's in the lads best interests as well. If rune shows up here once a fortmonth it's too often and I fear the lad would be yet another latchkey Squire and WE'D end up feeding him and instructing him on the whys and wherefores of the CessPool.

Here's the post I discovered ...

http://www.battlefront.com/community/showthread.php?p=1148620&highlight=costard#post1148620

Joe

[Michael Emrys]

It would ill serve the lad if we just GAVE him to rune ... it's probably against the law or somefink.

But if there were a small fee involved? Just to cover the paperwork and filing fees, plus applicable taxes?

Michael

[Boo Radley]

Wait a minute... then where did Rune come up with the idea that he'd proposed it before I did?

I would have looked back through the posts, but actively SEEKING something written by Rune just seems... dirty.

And not in the good way, either.

[Seanachai]

I am returned, both much refreshed and completely unharmed, from the Everglades. I had, of course, gone there with the expectation of being, if not killed, at least maimed by the local wildlife. At the very least, seriously duffed up. But not one single creature so much as said 'boo' to me. I wasn't even shat upon by a pelican.

My first reaction, of course, was to return to these pages and pronounce a curse of excommunication upon the wildlife, sea-life, birds, flora and nature overall upon the region, backed by all the power of an Olde One of the Peng Challenge Thread, for their timorous and feeble response to my presence. I had gone there, expecting, as anyone of my significance might, to be bitten, clawed, stung, poisoned, rent and generally buggered about.

But what I got was simply beautiful, blue skies, comfortable weather, wonderful paddling, and the local flora and fauna lining up meekly for photo opportunities.

"Is this to be bourne?" I had to ask myself.

But then, it occurred to me. I could not blame the response I received, because the fauna, the flora, and even Nature itself recognized in me an Olde One of the Peng Challenge Thread. One of those who sit eternally around the fire, in the Wasteland, waiting for the world to be created around them. I was, quite simply, recognized as a progenitor.

Next time, I will have to go 'incognito'.

I'm not sure how to do this. Perhaps I'll need to wear loud colours of inappropriate clothing, talk too loud about stupid things, and pay no attention to the world around me in favour of telling everyone about how my manager is an idiot and how the politicians are ruining this country. Or, maybe, pretend to be an Australian.

But I simply went as myself, and so I saw hundreds of birds, dolphins, alligators and other creatures, and had a delightful experience. Not even a mosquito bite.

Mind you, a couple of elderly New Yorkers looked at me funny because I was staring at them with dislike while they chattered away on the boardwalk in Corkscrew Swamp Nature Preserve. But since neither of us clawed or bit each other, I'm figuring that for a wash...

[Seanachai]

But it's in the lads best interests as well. If rune shows up here once a fortmonth it's too often and I fear the lad would be yet another latchkey Squire and WE'D end up feeding him and instructing him on the whys and wherefores of the CessPool.

Joe

I dunno. Rune? He's an idjit, albeit a senior idjit. I think it would be better if I took costard on. Or Boo, who's the most senior of my Squires, and a sort of unofficial deputy.

[Seanachai]

Did I mention that I just got back from paddling in Florida? Rookery Bay, the 10,000 Islands, and Big Cypress Preserve? Three trips, 9.25 hours on the water, 17 miles, over river estuary, islands in the gulf of mexico, and freshwater river/everglades swamp? Paddled with dolphins and alligators? Saw hundreds of birds? Had a near-death experience where Berli and Peng showed up to tell me that I would be visited by three spirits?

Okay, that last bit was, admittedly, in the hotel bar...or...some bar, at least, very late at night...actually, that may have been when I was finishing the last of the rum on the lanai of our room, very late at night, smoking an Arturo Reyes maduro toro...yeah, that seems right. I remember because, as Peng threw another log on the fire, Berli punched me around the ear, and said "If you don't work harder at annoying the wildlife, you're never going to be properly savaged..."

Scorched the hell out of the balcony floorboards, and my paddling/traveling friend yelled at me for falling asleep with a lit cigar. Left a pretty good tip for the hotel maids. Made good, don't expect I'll hear anything more about it.

I tell you, living on two different planes of existence at once can be bloody exhausting. Especially with Peng and Berli always showing up on one of them...

[Seanachai]

On my second day on Marco Island, when my friend and I were sitting on the beach, at a bar, drinking rum&others, and smirking about the conversations we were listening to around us, I leaned over to her and said:

"You know, sitting here, listening to all these New York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania accents of people complaining, pissing, and moaning about every little thing makes me really realize that I'm back in Florida..."

The only way you hear anything like a Southern accent in southern Florida is if you fall in with tourists from Texas.

When we were paddling, we mainly met Midwesterners. Minnesotans, Wisconsites, Illinoisans, Michiganites. East Coasters don't paddle. No Ohioans. There must have been a sweep to round them all up, in the interest of public enjoyment. Of course, the West Coast of Florida is the 'Rich Coast'. Probably the Ohioans were on the other coast, riding mini-cars around a tire-bumpered race course, wearing feed-caps.

[flammenwerfer]

I am returned, both much refreshed and completely unharmed, from the Everglades. I had, of course, gone there with the expectation of being, if not killed, at least maimed by the local wildlife. At the very least, seriously duffed up. But not one single creature so much as said 'boo' to me.

You gotta love these mid-western, knuckle heads (and New Yorkers) that arrive in the Everglades in January expecting danger as if there on a Kenyan Safari. Amateur hour.

Come back in August, big man. When the bugs are as thick as motor oil..and don't bother bringin' paddles.

[Boo Radley]

I dunno. Rune? He's an idjit, albeit a senior idjit. I think it would be better if I took costard on. Or Boo, who's the most senior of my Squires, and a sort of unofficial deputy.

The hell...?

What are you smoking and why didn't you bring me any, you loud and annoying bubble of swamp gas?

I have never and shall never be your Squire.

I was Croda's Squire for a couple of weeks and he was SO impressed with my capabilities he made me KANIGGET in under a month.

Sure, he then scarpered off, giggling like a loon, never to be seen again, but still...

[Seanachai]

You gotta love these mid-western, knuckle heads (and New Yorkers) that arrive in the Everglades in January expecting danger as if there on a Kenyan Safari. Amateur hour.

Come back in August, big man. When the bugs are as thick as motor oil..and don't bother bringin' paddles.

Expecting danger? Not as such, my good man. I merely lived in the hope that outraged Nature, sensing my presence, would attempt to do something about it. I believe, as you clearly do not, in some form of justice.

And I know all about fecking bugs. As in, I know enough not to go to southern Florida in the wet season. Pillock. You come here in the summer, Cynthia, and we'll take you out on the rivers to give a big kiss to the black flies and mosquitos.

I haven't lived this long to be stupid enough to expose my tender flesh to the Swarm.

Bah! I wave my hand at you. One doesn't arrange travel in order to meet nature with the knives out.

[Seanachai]

The hell...?

What are you smoking and why didn't you bring me any, you loud and annoying bubble of swamp gas?

I have never and shall never be your Squire.

I was Croda's Squire for a couple of weeks and he was SO impressed with my capabilities he made me KANIGGET in under a month.

Sure, he then scarpered off, giggling like a loon, never to be seen again, but still...

Yes, yes, I know that's what you think, Boo. But, the fact remains, you are my large, thuggish henchman. You are, you were, and always will be.

Everything else is just some weird dream of 'rules' and 'lineage' that the Justicar is keeping in greasy journals on a shelf somewhere in his trailer, much pawed at and filled with odd diagrams, drawings and the sort of demented ravings you normally see in the margins of Dan Brown novels from the library, about 'Jesus' and 'Mary Magdalene' and 'the Priory of Psion' and other such utter sh*te.

Now, be a good lad and fetch me a cooling Cuba Libre, and don't stint the fresh lime! I'm not completely resigned to being back from vacation.

Good lad. Try to not stab yourself with the tiny plastic sword, this time...

[Seanachai]

And now, for a Tale of Small Friends: The Bringing of the Trip Presents

It is, I think, a mark of our culture that when parents/grandparents, etc. go on a trip, that they return bringing gifts. When grown-ups go somewhere, they bring something back for family, friends and the kiddies. I have always had a weird relation to this custom, because of a traumatic childhood experience. My father, at a time that I can barely and without focus remember, went on a business trip. And when he came home, I, the precocious little 'what did you bring me?' type that I was, asked him about it, he jokingly told me that he hadn't gotten me anything. And I ran off to my room crying. He was just kidding, of course; he'd gotten me a set of blocks. I was probably 4 or 5, at the time. And I remember, in the way that you remember things frozen like a photograph, and only later are able to apply reason and analysis to them, that my father was embarrassed that his joke made me cry.

And that was, and has remained for me, an extremely shameful moment in my life. In fact, I've never even told this story to anyone before. For years I've held this picture in my mind of being an ungrateful little ****e and crying because I expected to get something that I wasn't owed, and probably didn't deserve, but made a fuss about when it wasn't forthcoming. The memory has always made me feel like a bad person. I'd like to think it's made me more thoughtful and appreciative of everything I've gotten since then, and made me realize that nobody owes me anything.

But that's just an intro to the story I came to tell you tonight, which is about my return from Southwest Florida, with gifts for my Small Friends, Small Emma and Smaller Nora.

The first thing about this story is this: Right up until I left for the Everglades, I'd let my hair get really, really long. Unkempt. Ungroomed. I looked like an horrible sheep. And several times, in the days before I left town, Smaller Nora looked at me and said "Grandma Steve, your hair is really long!". Emma never noticed whether my hair was long or short; it simply wasn't an element in her world view.

So, just before I left town, I got my hair cut really short. And, when I arrived at the home of my Small Friends on Thursday night, and met them at the door (their Dad was already home, and let me in, and gave me a beer), the first thing anyone said was Nora shouting: 'Grandma Steve, you got your hair cut!'

I don't know what that's all about. She went on about it at great and glorious length. She's just the kind of kid that notices stuff like that, I guess.

And then we got caught up. I looked at the really great drawings that Emma had done at school that day, which were very good. I got to hear about school and playing. I told them I'd paddled with alligators, and when Emma asked me 'What about dolphins?', I told them about how I had, in fact, been paddling with dolphins on Chokoloskee Bay. It was all great fun.

And then, while Mom and Dad were in the kitchen getting dinner for everyone, Emma asked me: Can we open the presents you brought us? And I was taken a bit aback, remembering, if you've read the above, about the whole 'did you bring us presents' issue. So I asked her: 'How did you know I brought you presents, Emma?' And she told me: 'Mommy told me'.

And she had. Turns out there was a book fair that day at school, and Emma had had her heart set on some silly chihuahua toy that the company was offering as part of the whole deal, and when Emma got there, late, they were sold out. And she was so crushed that her Mom told her on the drive home that Grandma Steve was going to be there, and he had presents for her and Smaller Nora that he'd brought from southern Florida, from his trip paddling with alligators and dolphins.

And I had. I went and got the presents, and I'd bought them both T-shirts from the Rookery Bay Estuarine Research Center (who we did a paddle with), one for each of them, that could be colored on with the special provided magic markers, and when you washed them, you could color them again. Emma's had dolphins, and Nora's had a shark, because that's what they both like.

And I bought them both a necklace, which had a dragonfly on it. And Emma's was on a pink strap, and Nora's was on a blue strap, and Emma likes pink better, and Nora likes blue better, and otherwise they were both dragonflies, and nothing to choose between them. But the thing about the dragonfly necklaces was: They were 'mood' necklaces. Which means that the wings of the dragonflies changed color, depending on the 'mood' of the wearer, or, in fact, how warm or cold they were.

The t-shirts were received with great admiration, and much acclaim. And the dragonfly necklaces were met with great glee, and comments of 'oh, these are so pretty!' But they didn't even understand what the necklaces were all about.

So, they took their swag upstairs, and, in the 10 minute period before they were called back down to dinner, they'd already managed to color Nora's t-shirt. I don't know how they managed it. I went up to get them for dinner, and they'd already colored in the cartoon-like shark and sea-life picture. And Smaller Nora took off her clothes because her sister told her she had to wear her new t-shirt to dinner, and at first Nora was saying 'I have to put on new pants', but when she pulled on the t-shirt (which was a 'child's small', on the idea that one size fits anyone under the age of 8), she did a little pirouette, and said "Oh, it's just like a little dress!", and refused to put on pants because she was beautifully clothed in hand-painted finery from Rookery Bay!

I then put on both of their necklaces (which, ham-handed as I am, I could still manage the fine catches), and we went down to dinner. And, at that point, the wonder became manifest.

As we sat down to an incredibly fine dinner that Mom and Dad had done, I told them about how the necklaces 'changed color'. And they started turning them about, and lifting them up, and when they realized that the wings of the dragonflies were, in fact, changing to different colors (as their body heat, and, eventually, gripping hands warmed them) they all but lost control of themselves.

The dinner table was filled with shouts of "Look, Mommy! The wings are green! Now they're blue! Oh my gosh, what color is this, Grandma Steve? Daddy, Daddy, look! Grandma Steve says this color is turquoise! Oh, my gosh, what color is this? What color is it now?!"

Not much dinner got eaten. As God is my witness, the art of the Louvre doesn't draw the kind of acclaim I witnessed there that night.

I remember the whole 'mood ring' phenomenon from when I was a kid. I remember it as being stupid. But, apparently, I'd never seen it through the eyes of a 6 year old, and a 3 year old. I had brought them the treasures from under the pyramids. H. Rider Haggard could not have described a more glittering bounty.

And, of course, after dinner we got to the final present. The one I didn't buy, but gathered, as one might say, with love. Because one afternoon my friend and I walked up 'South Beach' on Marco Island, and we gathered seashells. We walked at least a mile, with me, at first, thinking it was an annoying and stupid tourist thing to do, until my friend pointed out that I'd never once looked at the ocean, the sunset, the beautiful panorama of white sand beach, or, in fact, anything except the bounty of shells that I was gathering for my Small Friends, and that my pants were starting to sag on my left side from how many shells I'd put in the pouch of my kayaking pants.

So, I had wrapped the shells in paper towels and tissue paper in Florida, and I carried them home in my carry-on bag to keep them safe. And, before I went over to Small Friends house that night, I'd laid them all out on a dark blue flannel pillow case, to give them some backing, and to lay them out proper and cushion them before I brought them over. And, after dinner, I unrolled the cloth of midnight blue, replete with shells, to the wondering eyes of Small Emma and Smaller Nora.

A truly excellent moment. And as I watched Small Emma gasp, seize her sister's hands and shout 'No, Nora, don't break them!', I knew that I'd hit the Trifecta. I'd brought them three presents that they completely liked: Clothes, Jewelry, and Something Personal.

I was then treated to the Small Girl excitement of 'How to Deal With the Shells'. Because Nora was like 'Oh, look at this! Mine! Mine! I want to run away and look at this and it's Mine!', and Emma's 'No, Nora! You're going to break it! These are for both of us!'.

Of course Emma, as the Big Sister, took it upon herself to 'divvy up the swag'. She was almost meticulously fair, laying out all the shells, and comparing them, and deciding which shells were most like other shells, and then saying: 'Nora, this one is yours, and this one is mine'. And she was, actually, very fair about it. And if, occasionally the one she got was rather more like what she would want, it didn't matter much, because her sister was thrilled with the shells she got. And any shell that was unique, and not like any other, went into the 'shared pile', which eventually became 'Mommy and Daddy's shells'. They could both enjoy them, and look at them when they wanted, but they weren't 'anyone's shells, but shared'.

And then, once all the shells were divided up, they ran upstairs to get small girl jewelry boxes to put them in. And Emma's box, when it was opened, had a dancing, twirling ballerina that 'sang the shells to sleep'. Every little girl in every Universe since time began and mechanical jewelry boxes were invented has a jewelry box like this. And once her shells were put in it, and the 'ballerina' wound up, we sat and watched here slowly spin, and listened to the tune, which sang the shells to sleep.

And her Mom, always the sardonic one, said 'Oh, so shells can sleep? They can hear the music?', and Emma, in that peculiar tone of hushed wonder that only children can do without irony, said 'Yes! They're sleeping, now.'

And, in that moment, I thought about how all that long time ago, I cried because I thought I didn't get a present from a trip, even though I did. And I knew that, somehow, I was still a small child, and I'd just gotten the best present ever, and that I'd lived long enough to know how wonderful it was, and that I would never forget it.

And that's pretty goddamn cool.

[Michael Emrys]

I am returned, both much refreshed and completely unharmed, from the Everglades. I had, of course, gone there with the expectation of being, if not killed, at least maimed by the local wildlife. At the very least, seriously duffed up. But not one single creature so much as said 'boo' to me. I wasn't even shat upon by a pelican.

I guess Unwashed Body Odor makes a pretty good repellent even among non-humans.

Perhaps I'll need to wear loud colours of inappropriate clothing, talk too loud about stupid things, and pay no attention to the world around me in favour of telling everyone about how my manager is an idiot and how the politicians are ruining this country.

And this differ from your usual behavior in what way?

Michael

[Michael Emrys]

On my second day on Marco Island, when my friend and I were sitting on the beach, at a bar, drinking rum&others, and smirking about the conversations we were listening to around us, I leaned over to her...

Her? Her??? You mean you were traveling with an actual woman? What did you do, kidnap her from an insane asylum? Or are we talking about a female spider monkey that had run away from the circus and had the misfortune to fall in with you?

Michael