Dear ${token1},

"What's this doing in my in-box?" you may ask yourself, but never fear, no it's not Thursday, but the second installment of my experiences in the Bahamas attending the Casino Affiliate Force conference and the Internet Gambling Law and Wireless symposium (whew). And there are a few extra tidbits to spice up this supplemental newsletter. So ${token1}, read on...

Additionally yours,

Bryan

MY TRIP TO THE BAHAMAS
Junkanno (you don't smoke it)

For those of you who are just subscribing or making that sporadic check of your email, this is the second installment of my experiences in the Bahamas attending the Casino Affiliate Conference and Internet Gambling Law and Wireless symposium. Well last week I ended with a rant on Scumware; a very hot topic that was brought up during the affiliate conference. I am pleased to announce that at press time, progress is being made to convince casinos and their marketing agencies to discontinue the use of this questionable form of advertising. Stay tuned to Casinomeister, as I will be devoting a special section to fighting scumware on the website. This is something that all of us should be aware of. Your machine could be infected with scumware, and you probably don't even know it.

But one thing you may know is that the Bahamas holds some very cool secrets, and I found one: Junkanno. No this is not something you smoke, even though they do sell a lot of pipes down there, but a wild-ass parade that would blow your mind. It was a serendipitous event (bust out your dictionaries if you don't know what that means) that we experienced. Our entourage included Greedygirl of Gone Gambling, Michael and Jodie from Online Casino News, Eric Morris from Gambling Online Magazine, Marc Lesnick of Start Casino, Herby O. the chairman of Casino Affiliate Force and his assistant, my wife, my four year old daughter and I. Ted Loh said he was beat, so I assumed he retired to the casino in the Atlantis Hotel.

We were picked up at the hotel by "strange cab guy" and his three-year-old son in a van. We were looking for something "authentically Bahamian" since the food on Paradise Island was pathetic; catered to American tourist expectations. He said he had just the right idea and began high speeding it to some imaginable (or unimaginable) place. Greedygirl freaked at his near rear-end collision with a VW. Oh but never fear, strange cab guy is here. Between weaving in out of traffic, he commenced telling us about Junkanno: a parade that dated back to "slave time" and no doubt was a celebration marking the Bahamian's first taste of freedom. Tonight was the dress rehearsal for the December 26th Boxing day event.

He brought us to a halt by the street barricades, and guided us to "a good place to eat": Goldies. It probably belonged to his cousin. The entrance was proceeded by a colorfully large wooden plank porch where several beer drinking locals loitered eyeing the "tourists".

Well, I thought, "Mmm, yummy food." and I was dying for some baked fish with fried rice, or some funky jerk chicken, or something besides the bland food that was catered to us from the Hotel. The waitress brought us menus and drinks and took our orders, (I watched her write these down). I ordered what I presumed to be yummy baked chicken. And then the live band clamored up to their seated positions and began to play. Three stoic souls, their faces as glum as pallbearers, began to play "Tell Laura I Love Her." The keyboardist must have been a medieval dentist in a past life because he was attempting to rattle the fillings out of our jaws with his high pitch squeak machine of an electric organ. The was a dude singing, but where was he? I couldn't see the guy. I looked around and my lands! He had a wireless microphone and was meandering amongst the crowd like a Bahamian Don Ho. He was very cool looking, about 55 years old, and when he spotted my four-year-old daughter, he couldn't help but serenade her which she thought was hilarious.

He then announced that they had a CD (gasp) and began to sing the "hit" track, "Where Have all the Flowers Gone" not once but twice in a row. The electric organ drilling away at our eardrums. I kept checking my ears for blood. The band finally took a break.

And then the food arrived, well most of it. It seemed the waitress forgot my wife's and Marc's orders, even then she had written these down. What I had before me was a large wad of tin foil in a plastic basket which I slowly unraveled, revealing a fish that had been boiled with some rice and vegetables. The head was intact and its foggy eyes stared up at me. My little girl freaked when I used my fork to wiggle its mouth open "Please don't eat me, I'm still alive," I said in my best fish voice. My four year old didn't see the humor in this, and neither did my wife.

So I quit making the fish talk, and I tried to eat it. I won't go into too much detail, but it simply sucked. The vegetables and rice had some funky hot spice that had no flavor, and the fish was merely boiled fish flesh. I didn't make any comments since I knew Marc and my wife had ordered the same. I wanted them to have an unbiased experience.

Well, their "dinners" arrived, and their fish was raw and rawer. By this time, my daughter had fallen asleep in my lap, and we all had about enough. We finished and left.

The streets had been blocked off and crowds of people were gathered around taverns and other night spots, partying and bogeying down to some funky hip hop reggae rap music. Yes, we were the only white people in sight.

We came across what seemed to be large open lot with beer stands and crowds of people gathered around a bonfire and just meandering about. We met "strange cab guy" and his three-year-old son (he was now our unofficial tour guide). Around the bonfire were large homemade drums of every size, their skins being tightened by the heat of the fire. He explained that the "practice" was getting ready to begin. Greedygirl felt sorry for me since I had to carry my sleeping four-year-old daughter, so she handed me a "Baileys and Vodka"(!?), so now I had to carry her with one arm. But she ain't heavy, she's my daughter.

It began. And I tell ya, this was the highlight of the entire trip, much less any trip I've been on. The participants who led the parade of musicians numbered about 20; mostly girls age five to early twenty or so, and they did a sort of jazz dance to a brass band that approached from behind. The cadence was that of a moderate march, but they stepped forward at every forth beat like a wedding march. They had a graceful and meaningful presence which was very moving. As the horn section slowly approached, the percussions: drums, cow bells, horns and whistles, gave the melody a dramatic beat. And you could really dig it. Herby laughed and pointed at a tuba player's cheeks, "Look at that bloke!" His cheeks inflating like one of those frogs you see on those science films. And the beat became louder.

When the brass band had passed us, there were about twenty dudes stripped down to their shorts shaking cow bells of all sizes to a rapid trance beat. Dancing, leaping, blowing whistles to the pounding rhythm. They were completely zoned in that state of mind that runners have when they are on their third mile and they have a few more to go. It feels good. And the drummers were right behind them. There were about 30 pounding their palms on drums of all sizes. The "strange cab guy's" little boy and another tyke were leading the way. You couldn't help but want to dance. You could really feel the happiness and pride, the exultation of being free that has transcended time.

But I couldn't dance, I was still holding my daughter, who to everyone's astonishment, was still asleep. Greedygirl was getting all blubbery, and handed me another "Baileys and Vodka"(!?). As the drummers passed, the horns picked up the rear trumpeting in the same frenzied beat. I was beyond awesome. It was a magnificent living metaphor of celebration. Here are a few photos taken by Greedygirl.

When it was time to leave, strange cab guy showed us to the van, Greedygirl said the beer booth had run out of vodka, so she handed me a "Baileys and tequila"(!?), and she told the cab driver "If you can get us back to the hotel without scaring me, I'll give you an extra tip." He drove us back to the hotel like a saint. By then, he didn't seem so strange.

Next edition MY TRIP TO THE BAHAMAS Part III of III