Back in the early 1990’s I was employed by an international shipping company known as “Crowley American Transport” on a 5 month contract aboard the MV Sea Wolf. Crowley is still in business but now they run a fleet of tugs and got out of the deep sea cargo business. My title was ‘Chief Steward’ which meant I was responsible for ordering provisions, menu planning etc, managing a crew of 12, for all intents and purposes an acting ‘Hotel Manager’ aboard a 900 foot container ship.
I was fresh out of an 18 months training course at our unions maritime training academy in Southern Maryland, and hit the jackpot landing a semi-permanent department head position bound for South America not even two days after I graduated the final course in culinary management. This was a truly dream come true. The money was fantastic, and I had always wanted to go to South America. It all fell in my lap so seamlessly it was as if God himself was smiling down upon me. Jumping in my jet black RX7 with a **** eating grin from ear to ear, I sped off for Philadelphia to join the Sea Wolf and embark on a new chapter in my life as a merchant marine.
We sailed out of Philadelphia on a balmy Fall Saturday afternoon headed down the Eastern coastline. The route was a 42 day round trip heading down the East Coast from Philly, on to Norfolk Virginia, then Jacksonville Florida and finally leaving Port Everglades headed for Venezuela. We had five scheduled stops down the Brazilan coast and then made a u-turn in Buenos Aires, heading back to Philly on a 12 day straight shot through the frigid Atlantic waters.
I’d already done extensive traveling at this point in my life. Five years in Hawaii, a year in Australia and all over the Middle East, Europe and Southeast Asia, but South America always held a certain undeniable mystique, so suddenly my excitement and sense of anticipation was flowing like a river as we sailed out of South Florida en route to Venezuela and beyond.
After three short days on a calm Atlantic sea, we pulled into ‘Puerto Cabello’ for our first scheduled ‘overnighter’ of the trip. Puerto Cabello is a city on the north coast of Venezuela. It is located in the state of Carabobo about 50 miles West of Caracas. The city has a population of around 200,000 people and is home to the largest port in the country.
As the Sea Wolf was tying up at the dock, I quickly changed into my summer gear climbing into the first taxicab into town, eager to enjoy the sights and sounds (and women) of this new and exciting place. Getting to know the crew of the Sea Wolf after leaving Port Everglades, we had all talked about all the ‘perks’ of Venezuela and Brazil, or specifically the gorgeous women and raw night life and other surprises that lay in store. There were a few regulars on board, but the majority of the crew of 35 had never laid eyes on South America, and we were all pumped up to make the best of our short time in this exotic port.
When our driver pulled his rusted out late 70’s Cadillac into the club parking lot, we couldn’t help but notice all the hot latina bar bunnies all turning their heads, much like a flock of birds changing course in mid air with perfect synchronized movement. Imagine if you will, the hottest bleach blonde bimbette you can possibly imagine, with enormous breasts on a petite hourglass frame, strutting into a sports bar packed full of recent parolees. Well, that’s the type of reaction beautiful Venezuelan mamacita’s tend to give to visiting American merchant marines with cold hard cash burning a hole in their pocket.
The time passed so quickly. The women were absolutely beautiful and and the ice cold beer flowed into the night. The streets of the city were alive with activity as the sun set, and it was quickly obvious we were all in for the time of our lives with gorgeous Venezuelan girls all over the place and cold beer flowing. The music was festive and there was something really special about being in a foreign country surrounded by so many amazing girls. It was a magical night in so many ways and we all just lost ourselves in the experience
Carmen caught my eye as she got off of a taxicab. Wearing a skimpy black dress that barely covered her slender physique, she moved across the street like a panther on the prowl with flowing jet black hair when suddenly she glanced my way and our eyes locked. I didn’t speak a word of Spanish nor did she understand English, but one of the other girls interpreted some small talk for a while, and we quickly agreed to find a hotel room. Carmen led me out of the bar hand in hand to a taxi that seemed to be waiting for us, and we were whisked off into the Venezuelan night.
Now, I am not naïve enough to think that there was anything more to this encounter than what it was. I was a merchant marine making a lot of money and she was a bar girl in a South American country. Nevertheless, we spent the entire night in a shabby 3rd world hotel room but it might as well have been the Four Seasons. I kissed her goodbye as the sun was coming up and explained that I would be back in 6 weeks, then headed back to the Sea Wolf with only a few minutes to spare before we sailed for Recife’ , Brazil.
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