Rihanna, on location with Ike Turner.

FTVS’s youngest intern was on assignment for the FTVS Travel Column on the West Indian island-nation of Barbados this plebeian holiday season.

The assignment was simple enough: to provide “in-depth” review and ranking of Barbados’ budget brothels, for the modern and financially conscious traveler. This meticulously crafted list would have, without a doubt, stimulated both the global economy and the worldly proliferation of venereal disease.

The voyage to and from apparently took somewhere between 30 minutes and 14 hours; alprazolam, hydrocodone, and alcohol, an FTVS potpourri specialty, served to dilute the memory. Our nascent intern not only failed to record his observation in said brothels, but mostly partook in the type of inane activities normally only desired by corpulent British tourists.

The following is a transcript of the infant intern’s letter. The young man was asked not to come back to the FTVS headquarter.

Dear Bob and Jack,

The red-coated Pommies have an insatiable thirst for this island… I am guessing it offers nostalgic fodder for them to relive what they miss most: slavery… To my surprise, the formidably athletic populace roams unthreatened by overt racial boundaries, and is unencumbered by chains… I am baffled to witness, the majority of locals dutifully continue to perform the roles of their enslaved ancestors now for survival’s necessary wage… It is unclear to me whether food served by fat pink British women, or food purchased by locals at Super Center is more nutritious… Columbus certainly cast a racialist shadow here that has yet to dissipate… I must go sandal shopping, my shoes were lost last night after I roofied myself, an experiment.

The most proletarian of all activities in Barbados appeears to be sun-tanning, a longtime favorite sport of the slave-driving cracker… Whilst lying on the beach and enjoying the Sun’s supple rays, one cannot but be accosted by vendors hawking their shell bracelets, massages, and ‘bad habits’ which so far have included blowjobs, and phenylcyclohexylpiperidine…

Two weeks in this strange place and my phallus is ready to fall off. Not from sex with women but from sex with my hand and SPF 50 lotion… my penis has a tan, like Laird Hamilton. I really think FTVS should lobby the Bajan government to abolish the shell selling, and instead make semi-private tents available for those who wish to indulge in chemically fueled happy-endings courtesy of the native ‘Rasta-tutes’… The government must immediately implement an edict mandating that activities such as golf, yachting, and belly-boarding be performed topless, and on further thought, bottomless too… There is, after all, nothing more pleasing to the erudite phallus than the sight and texture of a freshly sunburned nipple.

Warmly yours,

(deleted name)

ps: About the brothels, I grant Barbados a salubrious seven (7) and three-quarters (3/4) stars.

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