Insanity vs. Logic on a Saturday

Traveling always comes with a bit of insanity.  Traveling takes a bit of insanity.  Conclusion:  I am insane.

Proof?  The following.


Setting the scene for a lovely and relaxing Saturday spent in downtown Fort-de-France.  The ocean and the pier on one side, a view onto the boats and Trois-Islets on the other side of the bay.

Discovery of a North-American style coffee shop (give or take), where the menu had more than just Espresso on it.  Cleverly translated English below all the menu items.  Things like a "langouste" sandwich was translated as a... well... langouste sandwich.  We also had the choice of a "roasbeef" sandwich, which we deduced must taste so much better than a roastbeef sandwich.  The ordering of iced mocha latte's ended in half-satisfaction as we were handed luke-warm mocha latte's.  Beggers cannot be choosers.  We smiled anyway.

Carrying on through the streets of Fort-de-France, we stopped to listen to a band made up of mostly African drums.  The rythms unbelievable, only heard this side of the Caribbean.  We stopped in a number of different shops, disregarding the lewd noises and gestures directed towards us by the male population.  What else can I do before leaving my studio to make myself less of a target?  I don't think my skin will be getting much darker anytime soon...

With the sun starting to dip down towards the bay, we decided to head back to the car to get ready for our evening plans.  Heart attacks were avoided when we saw  the parking garage doors closed, but noticed the signs that they were automatic.  Once we were in, logic told us they would open and let us out.

But insanity always persists and seems to conquer any sense of logic one might have.  All the doors of the parking garage were closed, and we couldn't get in.  Following the logic on the sign, this was a 24hour parking garage.  Insanity, 1: Logic, 0.

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