I was on a nude sailing cruise in the British Virgin Islands 6-7 years ago and we were anchored in White Bay. It was after dinner, we’d had a bottle of wine or four, and decided we wanted to go to the bar ashore for a drink – but of course we didn’t want to get dressed. Somehow we didn’t see this as a problem. Into the dighy we climbed, motored off to the bar (not the Soggy Dollar, the other one) and in we walked. There were only half a dozen people there, but not surprisingly our entrance was noticed. One young man let out a whoop when we walked in, and he quickly got naked (though his girlfriend made him get dressed again – I’ve often thought that I hoped he dumped her). We sat down as normally as possible at one of the tables, continuing our conversation, and in a moment the waitress came along. She was very flustered, garbled a few incoherent monosylables, and then left, having forgotten to take our drink orders.
We spent almost two hours in the bar and had a grand time. Eventually most of the other patrons left, the bartender got naked, and even the waitress took off her top. She and our hostess then compared breast jobs and discovered they’d had the same plastic surgeon in Atlanta. It was certainly a memorable night!
But the part I really have yet to figure out is how – or whether – we paid for our drinks. We went without clothes, therefore without pockets, therefore without wallets, therefore without money. So I guess the best part of the evening was that it was not only clothes-free, it was also drinks-for-free.