Throwing Poo

After two sleepless nights, eight stressful hours of travel and two bottles of wine, Nerdy Squirrel, Esq. settled in for our first of seven long, restful nights of vacation sleep (after consummating our new accommodations, of course).  As carefree dreams of blue oceans, mountain hikes and cold beers danced in our heads, a looming evil lurked just outside out cottage. 

Suddenly, at 3:12AM in the morning, we were startled awake by what I can only describe as the sound of chaos. 

Given its isolation, you might think that Saba would be unexposed to the ills that plague the western world.  A virgin, if you will, to the wicked ways of modern man.  Not so.

Gangs.  Even though everyone knows, the locals don't talk about it.  The guidebooks - either by incompetence or intimidation - fail to even mention it.  It is an unlikely island curse, but a curse just the same. 

Saba is infested with gangs. Traveling in packs, they fight, destroy property, raise hell and menace the good people of Saba and vacationers alike.  Like the Crips, they don bright red headgear so as to be easily distinguished and leave their marks wherever they go.  And they own the goddamn place.

The noise was so abrupt, so loud and so close that we both shot straight up in bed and looked to each other for clarity and comfort. 

"Did you hear that?" Nerdy whispered in a scratchy, frightened tone.

"Shhh," I held up my hand.

At home, I would already be reaching for the baseball bat in the bedroom closet.  But this was a strange place and I had no weapon with which to find immediate courage.  I needed a moment to get my bearings and consider the options.

Again, screams shattered the silence.

Nerdy grabbed onto me, "Christ, they're right outside the door!"

"Quiet!" I demanded. 

I needed to think. Think, dammit, think!  It sounded like six or seven of them were right outside.  There was no way I could fight off that many.  I needed to find a way to defuse the situation so that no one got hurt.

Suddenly, it came to me.  I grabbed one of the extra pillows above the headboard and handed it to Nerdy.

"Here.  Put this over your head."

"What?"

"Ignore them and maybe they'll go away."  I grabbed a pillow for myself.  "It's all we can do."

Luckily, my instincts were right.  Even though we slept with one eye open, the next morning they were gone; their markings left behind.  Venturing out to assess the damage, I was able to snap a quick photo of a lone, straggling thug.

In Saba, roosters rule the streets.  Not the friendly roosters who wake the eager farmer with a chipper cock-a-doodle-doo.  Savage gangs of unconscionable delinquents whose screeching shrieks will split your spine and damage your brain.  Worse, they crow whenever the fuck they feel like it.  And, unfortunately,  they feel like it all night long.