At some point I realised —frustratingly — that I was the problem; I was arguing with a 45-year-old man drinking gin.
I argued with a friend about the Silver Palm Resort in Kilifi. It was not Silver Palm’s fault. It was alcohol’s fault.
Tell me if I was wrong or right.
I was seated with a friend who was having gin. (This should be an open and shut case).
I was telling him about my recent stay at Silver Palm Spa and how they upgraded me to one of their rooms that open into the winding swimming pool.
You can change in your living room, open the door, and walk right into the pool! Great for shy people who are conscious of their bodies. Convenient if you want to run into your room to eat an apple or send a quick e-mail.
He did not think it was a novelty. He dismissed it without giving it half a chance. We started arguing about the convenience of the swimming pool or lack thereof. He argued that the beauty of a swimming pool is strutting there, towel slung on your shoulder and watching other people (he meant females).
“Hotels sometimes just try too hard,” he snorted.
‘Yes,” I countered, “to make your stay memorable!”
We went back and forth. I showed him pictures I’d taken of the pool and the spa and the gorgeous grounds and the architecture. At some point I realised —frustratingly — that I was the problem; I was arguing with a 45-year-old man drinking gin.
It doesn’t help that I wasn’t drinking because a doctor felt that I needed a horrible two-week H.Pylori kit that makes you feel like a sorcerer.
It’s hard to argue with a drinker if you are on Virgin Hot Toddy. They mock you and laugh at your reasoning because theirs is impaired. Alcohol makes one think they are in a presidential debate. You don't stand a chance sober. What do you think of a swimming pool right outside your hotel room?
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