…For Me to Poop On
On Wednesday nights, as they had for years, the Pier Lounge Chicken Drop held court on the beach behind the bar. This event took place in the village of San Pedro on the Caribbean island of Ambergris Caye, Belize. Never one to turn down a chance to win some money, I had to participate. A raffle was a raffle, right? Well, the winner of this raffle was determined in the messiest of ways: Chicken Poop.
Set in the sand, a waist-high fishing net guarded the white board that contained the raffle numbers. The large white board was divided into smaller squares with numbers printed in red from 1 to 100. On this wooden board a chicken was placed and whatever number the chicken pooped on determined the winner. The bar opened up ticket sales around 6 p.m. Numbers are $1 Belize each. Just so you know, Belize currency is based on the US dollar at a 2:1 ratio; $2 Belize was $1 US. I purchased 10 numbers. Winner receives the entire pot, $100 Belize.
A line of about 12 people were already in front of me when I went inside to get my numbers. A man stood behind a wooden podium taking money for the chicken drop. The man drew individual numbers printed on pieces of paper from a large jar. When my turn at the front arrived he pulled my ten numbers, one at a time, and set them on the wooden podium for me to see. Then he took a long skinny ticket slip and wrote my numbers on the bottom: 50-72-6-43-67-31-53-3-45-86. At the top the slip said “The world famous chicken drop at the Pier Lounge” next to a cartoon drawing of a chicken. The raffle cashier also wrote that my tickets were for Drop #1 above my numbers. The bottom of the slip said “San Pedro Town, Ambergris Caye, Belize” just in case I forgot where I was.
The Pier Lounge ran about five chicken drops a night and the games didn’t begin until all drops were sold out. My ten numbers just about emptied the jar for the first drop so we had a ways to go. We passed the time by drinking Belikins, the local ale, and listening to a two-man reggae band. We were also able to stake some prime viewing territory right at the board. My husband prepped his camcorder.
After about an hour, a man with a microphone and head wrapped gangster-style in a scarf announced he was our MC for the night and that it was time for the presentation of the chicken. Everyone began to crowd around the raffle board. He introduced the manager, a tall white guy who could have passed for a frat boy on the mainland. He came from the shaded area outside the spotlights carrying a large basket. It was tall and round with a lid. He set the basket down and picked up the lid with one hand and with the other hand held the largest, most beautiful chicken I had ever seen. The chicken was a dark brown, almost red, with long silky feathers. She had the bright red giggly thing under her beak. The manager handed the chicken to a young woman with long blonde hair and short black skirt. The MC said it was her job was to “encourage” the chicken to do her business in the fastest manner possible. The MC instructed the blonde to “shake the chicken.” She gingerly moved the chicken up and down and from side to side. The MC told her to spin the chicken upside-down. She did so slowly. Then he told her to blow on the chicken’s butt. This was all to help the chicken, the MC said. She held the chicken out as far as her arms would go and blew. Then the MC told her to toss the chicken onto the board. The woman gently set the chicken down on the board in front of her. The game was on!
As the chicken looked around at us, everyone began yelling and cheering and coaxing and pleading. The chicken took a step forward. The crowd got louder. Then the chicken took a few steps in our direction. One of my numbers was 3 and the chicken was heading straight for it.
“Com’ooooon chicken!” I yelled.
The chicken then turned and headed in another direction but that was OK because one of my other numbers was 67 and chicken approached it slowly actually standing on the number for several seconds. Then she was on the move again this time back to the side she started from. The ruckus continued to grow. In case they needed video proof, my husband recorded every move of the chicken with his digital camcorder. An older woman who slurred her shouts of chicken encouragement stumbled her way in front of me and I had to hold my camera over her head to take photos. Soon, standing proved too difficult for her and she ended up kneeling on the sand yelling at the chicken through the netting, providing an unobstructed view for me. Now on the other side of the board, the chicken approached number 86, another one of my numbers. Without fanfare the chicken pooped. I didn’t see it at first, but people on the other side of the board were jumping up and down. The chicken had pooped about two squares from number 86. I was a loser.
We hung around the Pier Lounge long enough to discover that the winner must clean up the poop on the board before claiming their prize. An older woman in t-shirt and shorts had won and with a rag provided by the MC, she stepped over the netting and wiped up the poop. Then she was handed the cash. You won’t see that on the World Series of Poker. I think I’ll stick to the lottery.
On Wednesday nights, as they had for years, the Pier Lounge Chicken Drop held court on the beach behind the bar. This event took place in the village of San Pedro on the Caribbean island of Ambergris Caye, Belize. Never one to turn down a chance to win some money, I had to participate. A raffle was a raffle, right? Well, the winner of this raffle was determined in the messiest of ways: Chicken Poop.
Set in the sand, a waist-high fishing net guarded the white board that contained the raffle numbers. The large white board was divided into smaller squares with numbers printed in red from 1 to 100. On this wooden board a chicken was placed and whatever number the chicken pooped on determined the winner. The bar opened up ticket sales around 6 p.m. Numbers are $1 Belize each. Just so you know, Belize currency is based on the US dollar at a 2:1 ratio; $2 Belize was $1 US. I purchased 10 numbers. Winner receives the entire pot, $100 Belize.
A line of about 12 people were already in front of me when I went inside to get my numbers. A man stood behind a wooden podium taking money for the chicken drop. The man drew individual numbers printed on pieces of paper from a large jar. When my turn at the front arrived he pulled my ten numbers, one at a time, and set them on the wooden podium for me to see. Then he took a long skinny ticket slip and wrote my numbers on the bottom: 50-72-6-43-67-31-53-3-45-86. At the top the slip said “The world famous chicken drop at the Pier Lounge” next to a cartoon drawing of a chicken. The raffle cashier also wrote that my tickets were for Drop #1 above my numbers. The bottom of the slip said “San Pedro Town, Ambergris Caye, Belize” just in case I forgot where I was.
The Pier Lounge ran about five chicken drops a night and the games didn’t begin until all drops were sold out. My ten numbers just about emptied the jar for the first drop so we had a ways to go. We passed the time by drinking Belikins, the local ale, and listening to a two-man reggae band. We were also able to stake some prime viewing territory right at the board. My husband prepped his camcorder.
After about an hour, a man with a microphone and head wrapped gangster-style in a scarf announced he was our MC for the night and that it was time for the presentation of the chicken. Everyone began to crowd around the raffle board. He introduced the manager, a tall white guy who could have passed for a frat boy on the mainland. He came from the shaded area outside the spotlights carrying a large basket. It was tall and round with a lid. He set the basket down and picked up the lid with one hand and with the other hand held the largest, most beautiful chicken I had ever seen. The chicken was a dark brown, almost red, with long silky feathers. She had the bright red giggly thing under her beak. The manager handed the chicken to a young woman with long blonde hair and short black skirt. The MC said it was her job was to “encourage” the chicken to do her business in the fastest manner possible. The MC instructed the blonde to “shake the chicken.” She gingerly moved the chicken up and down and from side to side. The MC told her to spin the chicken upside-down. She did so slowly. Then he told her to blow on the chicken’s butt. This was all to help the chicken, the MC said. She held the chicken out as far as her arms would go and blew. Then the MC told her to toss the chicken onto the board. The woman gently set the chicken down on the board in front of her. The game was on!
As the chicken looked around at us, everyone began yelling and cheering and coaxing and pleading. The chicken took a step forward. The crowd got louder. Then the chicken took a few steps in our direction. One of my numbers was 3 and the chicken was heading straight for it.
“Com’ooooon chicken!” I yelled.
The chicken then turned and headed in another direction but that was OK because one of my other numbers was 67 and chicken approached it slowly actually standing on the number for several seconds. Then she was on the move again this time back to the side she started from. The ruckus continued to grow. In case they needed video proof, my husband recorded every move of the chicken with his digital camcorder. An older woman who slurred her shouts of chicken encouragement stumbled her way in front of me and I had to hold my camera over her head to take photos. Soon, standing proved too difficult for her and she ended up kneeling on the sand yelling at the chicken through the netting, providing an unobstructed view for me. Now on the other side of the board, the chicken approached number 86, another one of my numbers. Without fanfare the chicken pooped. I didn’t see it at first, but people on the other side of the board were jumping up and down. The chicken had pooped about two squares from number 86. I was a loser.
We hung around the Pier Lounge long enough to discover that the winner must clean up the poop on the board before claiming their prize. An older woman in t-shirt and shorts had won and with a rag provided by the MC, she stepped over the netting and wiped up the poop. Then she was handed the cash. You won’t see that on the World Series of Poker. I think I’ll stick to the lottery.
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