Jungle Adventure
By don_passmore
- 1255 reads
Jungle Adventure ?
Two tattered and bedraggled figures crept out of the jungle in pitch
darkness and headed back to base, theirs had been a brave ordeal
against uncivilised hordes of the fierce indigenous jungle rabble. How
they had survived without firearms or for that matter any other weapon
against the villainous natives was a miracle. The jungle is an
unforgiving place for the unwary interloper. Because of an omission of
mine the normally clean-cut duo had come to this sorry state. It was my
blame because of flawed information I'd given them when I sent them on
their foolhardy quest, but I'm getting ahead of my story?
I first met Vince and Les when they flew in from South Africa and
booked into my small hotel. Their open faces, rugged good looks and
ready wit made them welcome in almost any civilised company. On my
first introduction to the burly pair of roustabouts I took a shine to
them. We exchanged tales over the bar in the reception area of my
establishment well into the early hours. Comparing embellished
anecdotes of our various adventures around the globe. By the time we
said good night or rather good morning, we had sunk some liquor and
verbally covered most of the known and even some of the not so well
known world.
I knew then at that initial meeting I had made the acquaintance of two
sole mates. Voodoo in Haiti, brothels in Singapore, bars and bordellos
in every continent and sharks as big as submarines, they all had a
verbal airing during that first meeting. Religion, politics, secret
societies and all other kinds of taboo subjects we argued and
reluctantly agreed to differ. We put the World to rights that night,
there was no doubt by the time our alcoholic dreams had evaporated the
World would be in its all-to-cock sorry state once again.
Breakfasts for my two companions and me were served at ten a.m. in the
lounge because our late arrival in the dining room would have thrown
the well ordered running of the house into turmoil. Over our late
breakfast the travellers asked me where they could go for a good time?
They said money was no object. After giving the matter some thought I
suggested they go to the La Continental Night Club, both agreed. "Oh
just a minute lads you'll need to dress to go there, you know tuxedo,
they wont let you in otherwise."
Several phone calls and a cab ride later Les and Vince had picked up a
couple of well fitting evening suits. To flatter their suits they had
Carona ruffle fronted dress shirts, plumb coloured cummerbunds with
matching bow ties and each a pair of high shine paten-leather
shoes.
That night when the two oil workers came down from their rooms to get
their taxi to the night spot they looked really good. When they climbed
into the cab they gave the driver their destination the cabby looked
rather amazed but respectfully at the well dressed men.
That picture in my mind of those two smart individuals will always
remain with me. When they returned from their foray in the jungle I
remembered how they looked on that night and compared it with how they
appeared after their ordeal. No one would have recognised them as the
same individuals.
Both men looked at me with utter contempt in their eyes. Vince was the
first one to break the pregnant silence "You bastard why didn't you
tell us?" Tell you what chaps" I answered with a cynical smirk across
my lips. "That the La Continental Hotel is better known as the
notorious Jungle at North Shields." Les chirped in "When we walked in
everybody stared at us awe struck. Evidently the regular clientele,
these being fugitives from the law, pimps, toms, hop-heads a sprinkling
of sexual deviants and a majority of desperadoes, had never seen anyone
there in tuxes and patent leather shoes before."
Regarding their venture into and ensuing melee to escape the jungle, we
all now had a new anecdote that would no doubt in the fullness of time
be sensationalised and related again and again at watering holes where
erstwhile globetrotters meet and yarn.
by Don Passmore ?
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Comments
My home town
I grew up in Stanley street west at the top of the bank from the the notorious jungle my father was a local villain and restaurant owner at 12 i robbed the jungles cellar at 16 i started too drink in the jungle up stairs was posh and Vegas type cheap but it was down thoes spiral staircase at the back and Patrick hernandaz born tobe alive hit you with a wall of canabis smoke in the cave i learned how too hustle and fight as the jungle that was my Bronx tale shields in thoes days 1985 onwards was a criminal hub you see we had the Maltese in North Shields so yes la cosa nostra was prolific in the north tyneside area as most of the Maltese gangsters where british seamen so strangers visiting in fancy clothes realy where walking into the lions den prostitutes flaunted there price under there shoe and drug deals and other villanry where conducted in dark corners i recived a cut eye at 17 a skinny kid pounced on by the bouncer and a low life i remember that night very well but all pups grow and fill out and the next time we met i was the alpha and they where the pray i go too sea forced by my own determination as i new i was tobe used in the criminal world as an enforcer collecting money and taxing dealers i however whilst on leave did become the very thing i feared too become but i controlled it with my brothers help i got note ritzy threw out tyneside as a handy bastard but i can say this i was brought up in the shadow of the jungle and the villains that frequented the place and that tuition the university of life served me well sounds crazy but in thoes days we where the goodfellas
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