Tonight is Friday. In many parts of the Western World, Friday is a special night of the week reserved for mischief and mayhem. After languishing for five days at the office, monotonously battling the personal demons deviously conspiring unleash their tequila-fueled furor upon the week’s conclusion, five o’clock finally arrives. As the sun sets, a new weekend rises. For this one night, mere anarchy is loosed upon the world. (Then Saturday comes— recovery; and Sunday— repentance). On Roatan, mere anarchy is a pervasive state of mind. How else can one rest comfortably in a Third World country while the government undergoes a miniature coup? Oh, wait, that’s right: on the beach with a glass of rum and pineapple. I’m showering » read more «