Fisherman's Pub, Speightstown

That day, Alex and I wised up and brought clothes for the evening so we would not have to drive all the way back home before going out for dinner.  We cleaned up as best we could in the small bathrooms at Mullin's and headed up the coast to Speightstown to the Fisherman's Pub.
I had read it was an old rum shop that sold good local food and had some sort of entertainment on Wednesday nights.  This is where lonely planet lead us astray.

It wasn't that bad.  And the rum punch was good.  The food was not.  Also, the entertainment, which we never saw since it was over an hour late by the time we left, had attracted a large group of elderly tourists.  It was not quite the scene I had imagined.

We left, crossed the street, and found what was likely the band who was supposed to be playing at the FP.  I chatted with a gentleman on vacation from a neighboring island while we listened to the band play a steel pan rendition of Night Fever, I believe.  Not bad.  Ha!