An occasional feature whereby – with complete anonymity – we regale you with stories of life on assignment.
A cautionary tale, this week, of delicate matters and the importance of sometimes pulling on the lever labelled ‘restraint’ when set free on an island paradise:
Our fair press group are set down in a tropical resort and left all alone, the fearless PR leader taken to another part of the same destination for three days. Unlimited bar tabs are mentioned – well, coaxed out of a reticent resort representative – which eases the minds of the five merry journalists, a mix of seasoned hacks and a couple of fresh press trip first timers.
Given the rather functional dining areas, the beach bar is the place to gather that first evening, a thatched hut with an impressive line in neon liqueurs and lashings of the local beer. The resort’s families and honeymoon couples all turning in early, it’s left to Her Majesty’s Press to give the handsome, cheeky young bartender something to do until the wee hours.
It may have been the intoxicating perfumes of the tamarind trees, or the way the sunset hit the dappled waves, or it may have been eight of the ‘special’ cocktails. Suddenly, the youngest of the troupe, a pretty lass a long way from home, was really quite taken with the charismatic, exotic barkeep. Personal spaces were encroached upon, so much so that the rest of the party felt it wise to retire.
Reconvening the next morning for a breakfast of fresh papaya and sweet fruit juices, the group were joined late by our amorous newbie. Sunglasses were clamped to her face, her sheepish demeanour suggesting more than a common or garden hangover.
Some gentle enquiries uncovered that the barkeep had not had cause to avail himself of his usual staff quarters that night, and that although more than enthusiastic at the time, our heroine was feeling less than certain about the wisdom of their actions in the sunlit morning and vowed they were not to be repeated.
Ah well, only five more days of the same resort, sitting at the same beach bar each evening, negotiating the same acute sense of awkwardness as the same bartender dutifully, and with a smile, served up the same rounds of drinks, the special cocktails notably absent in the tropical sunset.
Do YOU have a Tale of the Press Trip? Anonymity, integrity and disguise beyond recognition are promised. No names, or anything more than general destinations. E-mail your story to: goinganywherenice@gmail.com
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