Is there a cannon on St. John by the cruz docks?
We use to live on St. John in 2006-2007. Our friend was telling us about a cool cannon that's on the left as you leave the people ferry. We don't remember it, and no one has any pictures of the "cannon". Does any one have a picture to verify this for us? Thanks!
Okay, for the PM's that I got. Here is my friends 'story' behind the cannon,
Here is my friends blog entry for that day. His cannon story
My boss called me one morning to go out on his boat for the afternoon. So six of us piled on his boat and off we went into the ocean. Booze cruise would be a good word for it, as we were all drinking heavily. We were supposed to be back by about 4:30 or 5 o’clock in the afternoon.
Pulling into the dock about 6, as I said, we were pretty drunk. My shoes had fallen over board at some point. Not to end the night early, we went drinking at “Duffy’s Love Shack.” I was barefoot, had my backpack on my back with all of my money, identification, everything a person needs to travel. And completely blitz out of my mind.
We arrived at Duffy’s, did some more drinking. Semi foggy there. The last thing I remember was about 9-9:30 that night, there was a woman sitting at the table I didn’t know, with a fish bowl filled with a blue concoction smelling of rum, and asking for help, because it was just too much. Well, never to leave a damsel in distress, I stepped up.
My next memory is about 4:30 in the morning. I rolled over, because I was laying flat on my back with my backpack in my arms. It was dark and an old lady was standing there poking me with a stick.
She kept asking me, “Are you okay?”
I kept replying, “No…NOOOOO.” Realizing that I was in a pretty bad situation. I sat straight up and about knocked myself out, because I was asleep under a cannon, next to a dock. Sitting up I asked the old lady, “What Island am I on?”
She replied, “St. John of course.”
I said, “Good, because that’s where I live. “ I got up, took stock. Remembered this was NOT the last island I remember being on. Decided it was definitely time to go home. Turned around started trudging the mile up to the house. I made it almost 2 things. The first was, I wear size 9 shoes, but I had a size 11 pair of Crocks on my feet. I don’t know whom they belong to, I don’t know where they came from, I just knew that they were on my feet. Shrugging this off to one of those: random shoe encounters that happen in life, I also realized that my truck was parked down by the dock that I had just wondered away from into the darkness. So turning around I shuffled my clown shoes back down to the dock. Climbed into my truck and drove home.
Somewhere along the way I lost my hat. Got to keep my backpack. Amazingly enough I had ALL of my money, except the exact required amount for the ferry. I had 5 dialed calls and 2 concerned voicemails and 2 concerned text messages back in the states going, “Where are you? Are you all right? I couldn’t understand your voice mail!”
My dad says that I called him about midnight, muttered something about waiting for a boat, and afterward was unintelligible until the end of the phone call. He thinks I hung up on him. I have no recollection.
I’m pretty sure that they guys that run the ferry carried me off of the boat and deposited me under the cannon. It wasn’t too bad to get home at about 5am, except that I was extremely hung over. It was about 80 degrees that morning at about 8am when I woke up and realized that I was an hour late for work. But out of everybody that went on the cruise with the boss, I was the one person that showed up. It was a long day. I threw up twice over the railings and I probably sweat 3 and a half gallons of fluid out inside the plastic suit I was wearing to paint in the 90+ degree apartment that I was having to paint.
Oh, they were joyous days in the islands.