Back in 2008, me and my bredrins took to the streets of Port of Spain for the “Fungasm” that is Trinidad carnival. All the usual fun was had and all was in balance. We had trained hard and had fully taken wining advantage of all women who dared to cross our paths. Then, about 6pm, just as the sun had set, it happened. I was chipping down the road when I sensed a great power nearby. I looked around, wining senses tingling! Then, I saw her, and she saw me.

She was beautiful. Tall, with long curly Beyonce like “hair” which complimented her rather fit and chiseled physique. The impression of her 6 pack catching the streetlight just “so”. She rolled with a crew of similarly powerful ladies who, like my crew, all carried with them the obvious self confidence of defeating all the days wining opponents! We stood there for a while, sizing each other up. Tumbleweeds rolled in the background. A lesser man tried to tief a wine from her and without so much as a blink was instantly obliterated with a single flex of her left batty cheek, limping away in a hasty retreat. The music was blaring and I couldn’t hear her voice, but I saw her mouth form the words…

“THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE!”

And thus began the battle. I entered the duel with all the cool confidence months of sprints up steep hills, 700lb leg presses and many a practice fete could provide. I had the weight of representing for all men everywhere on my shoulders. I couldn’t let them down.

We wined up…we wined down….leaned on the truck/fence/tree/ground (you get the drift), each juke registering with a meaty “clap”. The wine shredded stockings and changed the colour of my board shorts. Sweat ran in small rivulets down her back. I could feel a disc in my lower back starting to give way. I pressed on, determined to leave the carnival battlefield the victor, no matter the cost to my body. Half-hour later, I started to gain the upper hand. I looked into her eyes and saw a tinge of anxiety, maybe even fear. At that point she started throwing the sharp end of her hip into the mix, trying to make me bawl cree. I decided that if it meant the end of me I was winning this one.

The look of anxiety soon gave way to one of resignation. She had finally met her match. There could be only one!

That wine was the single wine I have ever had at carnival and I will remember it vividly for many years to come (sigh).

If you have a carnival moment, let us know in the comments below or on Facebook. Send us a message saying “My Carnival Moment is…” without the 3 dots at the end though.