It was after dinner, we’d had a bottle of wine or four, and determined we wanted to visit the bar ashore for a drink – but of course we did not desire to get dressed. Somehow we did not see this as a issue. Into the dighy we scaled, motored away to the pub (not the Soggy Dollar, the other one) and in we walked. There were just half a dozen people there, but not surprisingly our entrance was discovered. One young man let out a whoop when we walked in, and he immediately got naked (though his girlfriend made him get dressed again – I’ve often believed that I expected he dumped her). We sat down as generally as possible at one of the tables, continuing our dialog, and in more came along. She was very flustered, garbled a few incoherent monosylables, and then left, having forgotten to take our drink orders.
We spent nearly two hours in the pub and had a grand time. Eventually most of the other patrons left, the bartender got naked, and yet the server took off her top. She and our hostess then compared breast jobs and discovered they had had the same plastic surgeon in Atlanta. It was definitely a memorable night!
We went without clothes, hence without pockets, therefore without wallets, so without money. So I suppose the best element of the evening was that it wasn’t only clothes-free, it was also drinks-for-free.