It’s 8 in the morning in Santo Domingo and I’m leaving my hotel to grab a cup of some superlative Dominican Republic coffee. I don’t make it 10 yards before a dirtbag attaches himself to me like a human remora.
“Hey amigo, what’s your name? Where you from? My name Miguel.” He never waits for me to answer, and that’s OK, because I don’t want to anyway. I keep walking, but he isn’t going to give up that easy, and falls into stride next to me.
“What you want, amigo? I take care of you. You want chica? I got chica for you!”
I’m actually lucky this guy came along, because if not for him I’d forget what was on my morning shopping list. Let’s see…coffee, milk, sugar…what else did I go out for? It’s on the tip of my tongue…Oh now I remember! A hooker! Before breakfast. Do I look like Charlie Sheen?
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Roads Less Traveled 