As a recently blessed first-time-father, I often find myself at work paused in mid-step trying to remember just what in fact I was trying to accomplish. My shuffling feet seem to know what I need to do, but with a dangerous potion of distracted focus and sleep deprivation, I find myself befuddled with even the simplest of tasks.
I have become a Zombie.
And I don’t mind it at all.
Zombies are delicious. Well, at least the drink is.
The Zombie harks back to the exciting days of early post-prohibition, when Americans were eager to wet their whistles with the intoxicating ingredients that had been discovered outside our continental borders, our vicarious exploits extensively imbibed and written about by Bon Vivant’s such as Ernest Hemmingway, Charles H.

St. Croix has always beckoned to those seeking paradise. Escapist romantics, fortune hunters, families, artists, pirates, drifters – all have found solace on her warm and welcoming shores. As a result, a broad swath of cultures have integrated on our little piece of protruding rock – our own Crucian Melting Pot.
One group in particular has stood out to me, specifically in the face of disaster, as a true friend of the Virgin Islands. I’m talking about our friends and neighbors from the Middle East – Lebanese and Pakistani families who have made a great life for themselves among St. Croix’s countless other cultures, while also greatly benefiting the island community at-large.