Captain Morgan's Ice Cream Parlour

One day in the life of a man who tends to naturally attract women. Though his self resentments and devil may care attitude seem to work against him.

Captain Morgan’s Ice Cream Parlour

I sit at a mostly empty bar at the back of the Londonskaya Hotel. I have been hit on by an unusual amount of women this afternoon and it seems like the efforts and attempts are becoming more aggressive (in a good way) as the evening begins to rear its beautiful head. However most of the men have looked at me as if they would like to kill me and possibly rob and drug me in the process.

It seems like an over-exaggeration, but it’s strange in the Ukraine and the city of Odessa is the balls of the country, where Russian crime syndicates are on holiday and hiding from the rest of the world.

I look at my cousin Nick who is sitting beside me at the bar.

He’s looking at the model/bartender, which seems to be the criteria for just about every woman casually walking the streets in this city.

I ask him if he wants to go anywhere else for a drink, but I can already see the look of anticipation in his eyes.

We leave the small bar where we cross through several high ceilinged rooms adorned in lavish decor and where yet another woman has looked at me with glossy and fierce eyes.

As we enter the lobby we cross paths with our uncle Kevin who we ask to join us.

As the three of us leave the hotel Kevin makes a passing comment in regards to a woman sitting in the lobby who had to have been a prostitute"apparently.

I look back.

                She is a very attractive brunette wearing a pale grey blazer typing away on a laptop"maybe she is an escort or maybe she is an entrepreneur.

Either way my mind is already elsewhere"focused on the city streets.

                We walk a few blocks and seem to be in a mostly residential area.

                There is a cobblestone bridge ahead and I begin to cross as Kevin and Nick doddle behind.

                As I near closer to the other end I can make out a small gang emerging from the shadows.

                I hesitate for a moment at first having heard some pretty grim stories on the plane ride over, but I approach the gang anyways.

                There are three girls and two guys dressed in clichéd apparel more suitable for trendy hipsters.

                But the blonde is a cutie and she’s the first to introduce herself.

                She says her name is Christina and she invites me to a bar that they just so happen to be on their way too.

                Warning bells are ringing and I immediately agree to join.

                As Nick and Kevin make their way over I tell them we’ve found a place to go.

                They both look a little apprehensive at first, but they follow us anyways.

                I speak with Christina until we approach an even dark and quitter side of the city. Where there are a few shops, but everything has been closed down for the night.

                We stop outside a large rickety wooden door and Christina enters first. I immediately follow like a lost puppy dog getting lured into some kind of trap by a slim, bodacious blond, with a ridiculously strong eastern European accent (granted it’s not the voice of an angel, but she makes up for it with her bum).

I follow her down a steep winding set of stairs carved from the basement’s brick and mortar foundation.

                I can hear music now. It’s faint, but as we approach the cellar I now begin to her a crowd.

                We enter through a second door much sturdier than the first and arrive at a small underground pub filled with hipsters and man child expatriates.

                Kevin and Nick poor into the second room where a live performance of an acoustic guitar and tambourine are being showcased.

                I am now understanding that the requirements for being a hipster are the same in Toronto, as they are in London, and New York, and Odessa"not that I care, Christina is too cute.

                We talk about god knows what at the bar for about 5 minutes while we order some drinks, but I can see her making a few awkward glances into the other room.

                I see the face of one of the guys that is with us"he looks pissed off.

                I tell her I’m not exactly getting looks of love from her friend.

                She tells me it’s her boyfriend, but they haven’t been getting on lately.

                So obviously when a random guy such as myself with an American, or a Canadian accent, or wherever the f**k I’m from pops up out of the blue she’s going to jump on the occasion.

                --Interesting.

                She tells me we should probably go over and sit with our group, but first gets the overwhelming feeling to show me how cool and fashionable the “toilet” is.

                We go back through the door and up the staircase where we first entered the tattered vestibule.

                There she shows me a closet where a toilet, a sink and two people can be theoretically crammed into.

                She touches my pants and I kiss her.

                She kisses back very hard"there’s a little teeth.

                I try to take a step back but I can’t"that’s right, I’ve forgotten I’m in a closet with a bunch of s**t in it.

                We make out for about a minute before I completely pull away and remove myself from the ridiculous cupboard with a toilet in it"just not feeling it.

                She’s sweet though and I take her hand and lead her back down to the bar while suggesting it was just the location that turned me off.

                It was"mostly.

                We join the rest of the group and I immediately get a resenting glare from Christina’s boyfriend.

                I look at Christina.

                This room is better lit than all the others and I can see that her lips are quite puffy from kissing me so god damn hard.

                I lean over and quietly tell Nick and Kevin that I’m leaving and quickly make my way up the stairs to the vestibule.

                Nick and Kevin appear shortly after and without so much as a single question they follow me out into the streets.

                I’m not ready to go back to the Hotel, but I’m also not ready to face the awkwardness of that basement dwelling situation.

                Nick mentions a place called Captain Morgan’s.

                It’s a go-go dancing club that one of the expats at the bar told him about.

                We follow the relatively easy directions and are across town in about 40 minutes waiting in line at Captain Morgan’s

                As we roam around the club and its attached ice-cream parlour I am confused as to who is an escort and who is just a horny, gorgeous, mistreated girl with a regular Eastern European job.

                I literally cannot tell the difference so I approach one of the go-go dancers after her show.

                I’d rather know that I’m going to have to pay for it beforehand than be teased along the way.

                I have never paid for sex, let alone approached a woman so blatantly for it and as suave as I think I am I still get a very dirty look from my proposal and a shot of her backside as she walks away.

                I watch from across the bar as Nick gets slapped by a woman.

                Apparently he has just tried the same thing I have with even less finesse.

                I walk over and buy him a drink, but before I can pay the bartender the same girl who has just slapped Nick leans over and asks me to make it three; so I buy her a drink too.

                For a girl who has just slapped my cousin she is very friendly and immediately begins to flirt.

                I ask her, her name.

                She tells me it’s Anastasiia and that she’s not a prostitute like my stupid friend thinks she is.

                She is tall and leggy with light brown hair and a face that could launch close to a thousand ships.

                --I understand the confusion.

                I sit down on a red and silver stool.

                She sits down next to me and takes a sip out of her beer; tells me that I’m not like my friend; that I’m mature.

                I have said a total of three words to this girl, but I guess she likes me.

                I correct her about my friend"and tell her he’s my cousin.

                I wonder how she will act.

                She quickly apologizes to him, but still insists she had a good reason to slap him"which she assured was not very hard.

                I agree full-fledged and throw Nick under the bus"he should be able to take it.

                I do a little necking with Anastasiia, but mostly flirt.

                She finishes her beer and suggests we have some Sambuca.

                Nick and I agree, but first go to retrieve Kevin who has found himself surrounded by women in a booth meant to resemble a 1950’s soda parlour.

                We try and talk him into drinking Sambuca with us, but it’s obvious were not going to be able to pull him away"for god sakes he has a bloody ice cream cone in one hand and a glass of rum in the other.

                We go back to the bar and order three Sambuca’s.

                They are warm and are handed to us in snifters.

                Anastasiia tells us to leave just a little bit of the drink back in the glass.

                She pokes a hole in a napkin, bends a straw through it, and places it on the bar.

                Meanwhile she lights the fumes that are left in her glass on fire.

                She quickly blows out the dim blue flame and presses the glass’s rim to the napkin; and inhales through the straw.

                At least I know now that everyone is pretty in to getting high.

                I light my glass on fire and do the same.

                -Inhale; hold.

                I feel light headed, and energetic.

                As Nick takes his turn I look over to Anastasiia and kiss her.

                The kiss tastes immensely of licorice and it’s pretty f*****g disgusting, and yet slight pleasant.

                We sit at a table where her friends have now been sitting for quite some time.

She introduced Nick and I, but quickly pawns Nick off to her friend while she sits beside me.

She tells me she is in school, and speaks to me about her daily lecturers, and tells me that only studying girls are able to speak English.

Then she tells me she once paid her teacher off in return for an 85 percent average.

I become enticed by the slightly naughty side of this rather innocent, but stunning looking girl.

And then she touches my crotch under the table.

It is delicate but apparent and she looks at me with those eyes.

Those eyes.

I can read her mind and the moment I make her aware of that she melts.

All I want now is to bring her back to that lavish palace they call the Londonskaya and f**k her in one of the many rooms where Stalin once stayed.

She quietly asks me where I’m staying.

I tell her.

She asks me to take her back with me.

I ask her if she would rather bring me back to her place.

She hesitates and asks me if I want another drink.

I agree.

We go to the bar and order vodka-redbull.

We drink it quick.

She asks me to come home with her.

I tell Nick I’m leaving.

He tries to stop me, but I ignore him and tell him I’ll be back to the hotel later.

I go to the Ice cream parlour to tell Kevin I’m leaving, but he is nowhere to be found.

He does that sometimes"leaves without a word when he’s had too much to drink.

--It alright.

                As I leave with Anastasiia I tell Nick he’s by himself, because Kevin has already gone too.

                When I get back to Anastasiia’s she tells me she lives with her mom but that she is in Kiev for the next three days.

                We open a very dust bottle of red wine which actually tastes pretty damn good and start making out.

                Three candles had already been lit in her apartment as if she had just been waiting for someone to take her home and sweep her off her feet.

                I wonder if most young Ukrainian’s are like this"from my experience so far, yes they are.

                However those burning flames that remain unattended half the time may end up spoiling some seriously romantic plans.

                --Regardless.

                I am now making out with Anastasiia on her sofa and rubbing the groin of her jeans.

                Things escalate to her bedroom, which is more of a walk in closet.

                The door remains shut until around 5 o’clock when the sun begins to rise.

                I leave her very small flat.

                I return to the hotel 10 minutes later.

                I unlock the door to my massive room and collapse into a queen-size bed about 15 feet away from Nick.

                We wake up at Noon to the phone ringing.

                Nick answers.

                I suspect its Kevin wanting to have some breakfast or lunch.

                Nick seems confused and hands the receiver to me.

                I answer.

                It’s Anastasiia; she wants to hang out.

                I agree.

                Nick and I shower--separately.

                We go to fetch Kevin from his room, but there is no answer when we knock.

                We go down to the lobby and ask them to call up.

                --There is no answer.

                We see one of the gorgeous clerks that checked us in the day before and ask her if she’s seen the other man we were with.

                She hasn’t.

                We figure he’s in a heavy rum induced sleep.

                Nick makes a pass at the clerk.

                He fails.

                Anastaiia arrives and she takes us out for lunch.

                We spend the rest of the day with Anastasiia and as the sun starts setting we return to the Hotel.

                Anastasiia asks me if she can stay the night.

                The room is luxurious but I share it quite evidently with Nick who is not willing to leave and take one for the team.

                Anastasiia decides to go home.

                Rightly so.

                We go back to Kevin’s room to see if he has since recovered from his wild night out at the ice cream parlour, but he still doesn’t answer.

                We are too exhausted to care and return to our room where we both pass out.

                The following morning there is a loud and urgent knock on our door.

                I wake up slow while Nick rushes to the door to answer.

                It’s Kevin and he looks pretty rough.

                His blood shot eyes make mine sting, and his usually hairless face has taken on quite the thick 5 o’clock shadow.

                Did you get screwed the last few nights he asks with a raspy voice and a tone of resentment that I can’t quite place.

                I attempt to reply, but before I get a chance he takes a deep breath.

                I did, he says: I got royally screwed.

                He tells us he left Captain Morgan’s a little early and on his way home he was approached by a police officer who demanded his papers.

                Kevin didn’t have his papers on him, but he assured the officer that he was going straight back to his hotel, the Londonskaya.

                The officer told him that he had to get a taxi there and quickly escorted him into a car parked on the curb.

                When Kevin got in the car he realised what was happening.

                There was a bulky man behind the wheel and the door handles had been sawed of

                He tried to climb through the front, but was hindered by a second man who took a seat in the passenger side of the car.

                He knew he was fucked.

                He broke his credit card in half and figured if they tried to kill him he would at least try to defend himself.

                I laughed in my head--simply at how sad and unfortunate his circumstances had been.

                He then went on to tell us that he was driven 2 hours outside of Odessa and into a forest where the men frisked him, robbed him, and left him.

                It had taken him over a day to find someone willing to drive him back into the city.

                So far this country is crazy.

                I’ve acquired an on-call supermodel girlfriend who has paid for my lunch and have now just discovered that while I was playing Romeo and being oblivious to the darker nature of this city my own uncle was being kidnapped, robbed, and left for not quite dead, but definitely shocked.

                --Day 2 in Ukraine; think I’ve got 20 more to go.