Could Ya Pack Me A Belmont, Lou?

Jacob and Louise could've made money selling cigarettes. How many times did we hear from him, "Could ya pack me a Belmont, Lou?" while the cigarettes were nearby and Lou someplace else? And how many times did we see Lou dutifully tapping the cigarette with a practised death-look pointed at him, though softened with an edge of amusement?

Sure, sometimes they mixed it up a bit. There was a bit of "Lou, could ya pack me a Belmont?" and "Could ya light it for me too?" once in a while. Tap tap tap. I swear they could've sold cigarettes, because after my days spent with them on the sailboat, I would walk past a Belmont ad and those words would resound in my head, and the image of Lou tapping the cigarette would float back in my mind's eye.

Not that Lou didn't try her hand at selling things. I refer to her attempts at selling second-hand burritos with whiskey shots on the dodgy streets of Casco Viejo outside our Panama hostel. Maybe she should've stuck to deck dance-offs at midnight to Run DMC.

Jacob had a go at being a radio announcer for a spell. Our captains had to censor his first draft however; there was to be no ten-four. "Tahsin and I still have to live here!" Rengin explained. But he did have a concession... The Niner. "This is Delfin Solo," started Jacob, with his radio voice on. "Um, did I hear someone say hello?" came the reply. Then everything else went smoothly... though we were certain that the pause after his "Whisky delta delta five eight eight niner" was either a stunned silence or a laugh concealed by an undepressed radio button. Still, he did well and was terribly impressed and satisfied with himself. It was probably the peak of the trip's collective awesomeness... "The Cherry on top", one might say.

Some things never came to a rounded conclusion though... Do "buffet" and "fillet" rhyme, and which is more skilful? Polo or equestrian? We may never know.