First we must establish that this is my blog, so these are my very own (sometimes politically incorrect) experiances in my very own words. This is a shore day for me and I get to help at the clinic at the Sports Arena. The Sports Arena is a large High School sized gymnasium that we part out into various clinic sites: medical, pediatric, dental, opthamology, pharmacy, x-ray, physical therapy etc. You get into the Sports Arena after waiting behind the gate for what I'm sure must seem like forever. You are granted a wrist band that signifies what services you are most interested in, or whatever services are left as the case may be.
Being 5 foot 8 inches tall and weighing in at @$* lbs. (part of my own 'don't ask- don't tell' policy) I don't consider myself petite at all. In general the Jamaicans that I met dwarf me. In general I found them to be tall, sizeable people and their culture has no personal boundary issues, meaning if they wanted to talk to me, they towered over me and touched me. 2 things I found a little disconcerting.
So I was requested to assist with crowd control. What this really meant was I went into the cage with the "Angry Jamaicans". In their defense, when I reported this story to my family they asked..."what did you do to make them mad?" They weren't really mad, it just seemed that way. They were out in the hot sun, frustrated at the large crowds and they just wanted to get through the gate. I was between them and the gate.
I had promised my family that anytime I was on-shore I would be next to the guy with the biggest gun. Meaning I would always have someone watching my back and my safety. Well inside the cage, it happened to be a big Jamaican. For just one moment I felt the trepidation that I'm sure Daniel felt when he first saw the den of Lions. Prayers for my safety were answered that day.