Not to be thwarted two days in a row, The Queen Princess Cruise Director declared that we’d be haulin’ ass for a mooring in White Bay first thing in the morning.
And we did.
And it was a good thing ’cause that place fills up faster than a bar giving away free drinks. Within an hour of our arrival all the mooring balls were taken and the anchorage looked like a mall parking lot on Christmas Eve.
Come to find out, 60 and 70 foot catamarans jam packed with tourists and daytrippers from St. Thomas salivating for a Soggy Dollar Painkiller swarm into White Bay every weekend. I hated it. Think tourist trap crap anywhere in the world and stuff it all into a half dozen sandy beach front bars unable to handle the overweight, sunburnt influx and count me out.
The Queen Princess Cruise Director, however, was in her element. She moved from bar to bar and Painkiller to Painkiller telling anyone who would listen about Bobby being shot and how the islands were still recovering and how provisioning was hard.
White Bay was her drunk day. Hey. We all had one.
The Queen Princess Cruise Director even managed to get kicked out of Ivan’s, something none of us had ever heard of and didn’t think possible but maybe the Bobby story wore them down.
I’m thinkin’ they’d already heard it.
Sounds like you ended up in the touron capital of the world…I’m with you, would have to pass on that.
You aren’t kiddin’, White Bay was definitely the worst.
Except for Ivan’s.
Someone actually crossed the QPCD and threw her out???? Oh, my….did the sea part and the clouds form into rolling thunderheads in response? :)!
Even Captain Mo wouldn’t go get her. We listened to her plaintive screeching for an hour ’til it was safe.
Silly boy,…don’t you know? It’s NEVER safe!