On Being Mistaken For A Pro

Do I look like the frikken Twitter bird? *Hic.

I should've learned my lesson from my solo trip to the Bahamas. But apparently I'm a glutton for punishment. So I went back on another vacation...by myself.

The first night, I got into the elevator with a Jamaican man and his daughter. His significant other was in the lobby; I guess she had left something in their room. The minute the elevator door closed, he went at it. First a compliment, which I accepted. Then another, which I accepted.

Then, "Mi woulda like fi get fi know yuh, enuh." I dismissed him, thankful that we had reached his floor. Instead of leaving f the elevator, dude had the nerve, the unmitigated gall even, to ask if he could come up. Erm, up where? We know each other?! I couldn't get out the word "No" fast enough. And each "no" kept getting louder and louder (I think I was on the verge of hysterics) until he finally left, embarassed. Did I mention he was with his kid?! And his woman was a few floors below us?!

But that, my dear friends, was only the tip of the iceberg. The following evening, I sat by the bar making conversation with a tourist who was also by himself. We chatted about current events, about the government taxing alcohol, Dudus, tourist harassment and few other odds 'n ends.

I guess my knowledge on Jamaican current events and my accent made him think I was living in Jamaica. And apparently young, beautiful women who live in Jamaica don't go to stay in hotels by themselves, because the questions took a different turn:

"Are you staying in the hotel or nearby?" (It's an all-inclusive; they don't even let visitors come to the main property. Why wouldn't I be staying at the hotel?)
"Are you here for business or pleasure?" (My response--"Even business is pleasure when you're doing it in Jamaica."--probably didn't help matters.)
"Did you just come for the tourist season?"
"How do I reach you?"

I confess, even after the first three questions, I was TOTALLY clueless. It was the fourth question coupled with a simultaneous mumbling from the bartender under his breath in patois ("Ah some'n him a look, man! Him tink a work yuh a work!") that made me realize I wasn't having an easy conversation with a stranger at the bar. To say I left the bar quickly would've been an understatement. Even Usain wouldn't have been able to catch me that evening.

Should I stop talking to strangers or just stop going on vacations to the Caribbean alone?