The three hotels in a row that we were accommodated in not only got understandably annoyed at the over indulgence at breakfast but in rotation they provided "Managers Parties" on different days of the week for the incoming paying guests. The Ascoteers soon cottoned on to the unlimited supply of rum punch and conch fritters at these dos and presented themselves in various dilapidated beach attire at all the functions to the chagrin of the staff. The beach party, however, persisted through the det and as crews rotated the new flasks of Harvey wallbanger appeared. My crew did the shuttle to Belize and back in time to replenish the flasks with the good stuff. The incumbents were down to appletons and minute maid at that stage. An American couple who had been observing the ritual said "We have never seen a beach party go on for seven days. When do you guys sleep?". We were suitably inscrutable.