Bondy's Brief Foray into Dominican Society

This story falls under the category of ‘Other Scoundrels’, one of them being Alan Bond, the other, I guess, me. Because I wasn’t actually living on a vessel at the time, I can’t claim the moniker of ‘sailor’.

I was living in a house in Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic, having arrived there on a Dutch fishing boat a friend and I sailed from Holland.

Anyway, I went down to Santo Domingo to catch up with my mate Bond, an Englishman who was living there.

Bond

Well, Bondy’s wife was off somewhere with her girlfriends so the two of us did our catching up on the balcony of his apartment over a few glasses of rum. Well…maybe a few more than a few.

At some point in the evening, Bond mentioned that he’d been admitted that very day as a member of the prestigious Arroyo Hondo Country Club. He boasted of its wonderful facilities and mentioned the exorbitant membership fee*. But, he reasoned, the business and social connections would be well worth the cost. And how convenient it was—almost directly across the road from his apartment.

And in this fact lay his downfall.

It must have been around three in the morning when Bondy suggested a dip in the Club pool.

We made our way to the pillared portal of the exclusive Arroyo Hondo only to find that some idiot had inconsiderately closed the place up.

By this time however, our hearts were set on a swim and we were not to be thwarted, so we scaled the fence. Bondy, after all, was a paid up member—who could possibly begrudge him and a guest making use of the facilities?

We’d neglected to bring swimming gear with us, but there were no other members around to object to the exposure of our personal members. And besides, the pool was in relative darkness.

No sooner had the two of us plunged into the water from the high board when night turned to day. The pool lights came on and two guards with automatic weapons rushed to the poolside.

Despite Bondy’s protestations that he was a member, we were marched at gunpoint to the dressing room and told to put on our clothes.

While Bondy was arguing with the guards over his rights as a member, I slipped out the door and made a dash for the diving board. My entry into the water brought the guards racing out to nab me. But while their attention was thus diverted, Bondy made his break for freedom.

This back and forth escape and recapture went on for two or three episodes but the guards eventually managed to collar the two of us and eject us from the Club grounds.

The next evening a chastened Bond called to tell me his membership had been revoked and the Club was not not refunding his money.

*In today’s currency around $25,000.