Days 0.5 and 1 can be found here, Days 2 and 3 here, and Days 4 and 5 here.
Day Six: Andrea's 25th birthday!!!! We spend the morning wandering around the Marriott resort trying to find food, partially succeed when we eat at the beach bar for the restaurant Havana Blue, vow to never ever ever ever eat at the beach bar for the restaurant Havana Blue again (Andrea wrote the server a note, for God's sake, a note!) and walk not once but twice up over 100 stairs. I don't care if it was at Sea Level, 100 stairs, sucks man!
The afternoon is much better. We head out on a catamaran to Turtle Cove where Andrea snorkels for a bit, I chicken out on snorkeling for a bit, but still get to watch the turtles surface. The trip back is slow and lazy; Andrea drinks a couple of Coors Lights and reluctantly agrees that it is in fact a great Lawn Mowing Beer.
 |
| Snorkeling. The brave big dude took this pic from the boat |
Also, Andrea might or might not have gotten a tattoo.
 |
| A quick birthday drink. You thought it would be a picture of her tattoo, didn't you? |
Cheeseburgers.
Off we go to Margaritaville where we sit on the patio and are given dinner menus. The ones that don't have cheeseburgers on them. Come to find out that they stop serving cheeseburgers at 6:00!!!!! The humanity!
Fortunately, it is 5:55, and the hostess rushes off to find our server so we can get our order in before the clock strikes 6.
Island Time is slower than regular time. I've tried to describe it, but it you've not lived it it is tough to understand. Rules are rules though. If there are no more cheeseburgers after 6, you're not getting one. I've never seen a server move like that on the VIs, or, really any island. She hustled to get our order in, and the cheeseburgers were once again delicious.
For Andrea's birthday present, I ruined reggae for her. It wasn't intentional, I swear. But after suffering through several "hits" redone reggae style, I pointed out that any song can be turned into a reggae song. I've included a couple of extreme examples at the end of the post; if you're sensitive though I suggest skipping it. If however you have a sense of humor you should totally check it out.
Day Seven: It is time for us to go back to the Real World. Fortunately, we have one more night of vacation before we have to go home, but the 6 lane interstate of Fort Lauderdale is a bit of a shock after Island Life.
Before we go though, we have one last stop to make.
For cheeseburgers.
Off we go to Margaritaville where we sit in the bar and hang out with the World's Best Bartender, Lindsay. I have yet another cheeseburger and decide that I'm kinda tired of them.
We hang out for awhile and head to the airport, where I am suddenly stricken with a heavy, foreboding sense of deja vu.
Perplexingly, to leave the American Virgin Islands, you have to go through customs. You don't have to do so to get into the American Virgin Islands, only to leave the American Virgin Islands. I'd forgotten this, perhaps because the last time we'd left we'd spent hours trying to get through an immense, sloth-like line in sweltering heat packed together like livestock headed for slaughter.
A cold sweat breaks out across my brow as we enter the double doors for immigration. I let out a massive sigh and walk in to view my fate.
Which involves two parties in front of us, a Customs Officer that can best be described as disinterested, a security line that had no wait, air conditioning, and a terminal that actually felt a little comfortable.
Andrea, most excellent wife that she is, has reserved us exit row seats for the trip back. For the record, Spirit exit row seats have decent leg room, but ZERO lateral movement. I'm fat, I get it, but these seats were tight for Andrea even. For me it was a bit like being in a vending machine.
We get back to Fort Lauderdale, try to get an Uber, have a driver actually tell us that he is too far away and to reject him, try to get another Uber who has zero idea of airport rules, but eventually finds us, and head to our hotel for the night.
The Margaritaville Hotel and Resort.
 |
| Stepped on a pop top |
We head to the Margaritaville restaurant where I vow not to get a cheeseburger. I don't, opting instead for a most decent mac and cheese with shrimp served by the most hyperactive server I have ever seen.
Jeremy- Pearl Jam
I Ran- A Flock of Seagulls
Wish You Were Here- Pink Floyd
Pumped Up Kicks- Foster The People
Stuck In The Middle- Steeler's Wheel
This is a partial list of songs that no one ever wants to hear a musician play in a bar on an acoustic guitar. It is also a partial list of songs that a musician played in the bar on an acoustic guitar at the Margaritaville restaurant on a Monday in February.
I ran into the dude before his set in the Men's Room. He had dreads and wore Chuck Taylors. Of course he did. If someone ever shoots up the bar at the Margaritaville restaurant in Fort Lauderdale, call me. I have a prime suspect for you to look at.
Day Seven ends with the best night sleep we got the entire trip.
Island Time is different. It is looking at yourself in the mirror, seeing your scorched shoulders, your tired eyes, your scruffy, graying beard and bleached goatee, your skin bitten to hell by mosquitoes and thinking that you've not looked this good in awhile.
A Totally Horrible Reggae Song, by Chris Fowler
Last Caress (sung to the tune of Three Little Birds, originally by The Misfits)
Sayin' I've got...
Someting ta say
Sayin' I killed...
Your baby today
Sayin' it doesn't...
Matter much to me
As long...
As its dead
No comments:
Post a Comment