Los Gringos

I was trying to order a beer but a dancing girl in a bikini was in the way.
When I say she was in the way I don’t mean that she was in front of me, I mean that she was actually on the bar. She was dancing on the bar with five other girls in bikinis. It wasn’t easy to get a drink.
I was in a bar, near the beach, on the Pacific coast of Costa Rica. But there were no Costa Ricans here. It was all gringo, all foreigner. To all intents and purposes, I might as well have been in Florida. The slum was a five hour bus ride and a world away.
It was a bikini contest. The girl with the sexiest bikini won. I don’t know what she won, possibly a free shot or possibly a pivotal victory for feminism.
I looked at the girls but I didn’t find them attractive at all. I went out onto the balcony and stared out at the ocean. Maybe it was because I felt old, or maybe because I felt drunk, or maybe just because I felt saddened and dismayed by the spectacle.
Having said that, the third one from the right did have a nice rack.