Like a Room without a Roof

So (there it is again) this time last weekend, amidst the oncoming storm, getting ready to head off on the early morning flight to Jamaica.  How funny a week can be, a fine trip even as the overriding goal lies unresolved.  Frustrating, especially the miscommunications and mistimed rum-drinking on either side, but it is what it is and perhaps the topic is now out there.

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This update has been sitting on my laptop for almost a week, not quite 7 days though, as it was this time last week you both were landing and shuttling back into the cold of the city.  Amazing the timing, and the impetus to head off rather than wait around proved perfect.  Such has been the work since the return that this weekend would have been impossible, and the next few days seem rather difficult as well.

I wanted to summarize the various moments somewhere for ease of recollection - Friday.  The early morning drive out to the airport and slight stress at slowness of the Park 'N Ride and customs line, but all to the good and in plenty of time.  Too tired to avoid the spilling of apple juice on the unsuspecting couple beside who shall not be seen again though.  Arrival to the warm weather, customs cleared via the health authority and another brief immigration scare due to the lack of the Yellow Fever vaccine.  Then the taxi driver, who of course knows people in Canada, playing the Bob Marley and missing the address initially of the hotel that was not all that new, the fixing of the TV, the restaurant on the 'hip strip' that overcharged for the rum at lunch but managed to be delicious and somewhat non-touristy at least. 

Doctor's Cave and the glorious sand underfoot, make-out photobombing, failing to climb the iceberg slide, then taking over the chairs of the boys who took oh-so-many photos of themselves, and enjoying the regularity of the planes flying in.  A solid afternoon, before changing for the evening, accidental discovery of the Reggae Bar (on the way out) for quite cheap, then the first of the flasks at Rehab, the random walking through the town to discover Kenyon in his Sandals nametag, eager to assist even as he was running off to see his Valentine.  The Oxtail in the restaurant with Psalms painted on the walls and American TV in the background, even as the bbq'd fish was probably the superior option.  Then to Pier 1 pre-dancing, the rum and cokes, and lost A and paying for the puff of ganga, getting lost amidst the boats, trying to navigate KFC, buying the chocolate cake along with the Ting juice and popcorn chicken surely one of the more memorable Feb. 14 suppers in the last long while...

Saturday.  The car rental with the empty Eurocar booth, the hot sun, the advance signing of the VISA slip, the sketchy car, the Arsenal fan waiting at the Donway, the guy who attempted to hustle himself a tip at the KFC drive-through and the locking of doors, the broad and winding countryside, green and narrow and beautiful, and solid navigation toward the south.  So many potholes, the Psalm 104:14 sign (legalize it!) and arrival after a long drive, missed turn-off, garbage sign for the hotel.  Fish at the local place, down to the beach for an aborted sunset that would not be repeated, but hilarious encounter with Minder from Prince George and his seafood purchases and speculating on longer vacation times on the road.  A breath to catch the sunset, wonder again at the lack of communication to anyone, then a brief rest and walking pub crawl for various rum and cokes... The Slow Down shirt getting great play from our man at the first pub who seemed enthralled by the suggestion.  Others all in good order, followed by some fine jerk outside the club that turned into a fashion show and resulted in some ridiculous dancing and general excessiveness before the cab back.  Guys in red and white attire, with toothpicks in hair and the like, Montreal Canadian fans from Thunder Bay, and a cover charge well worth paying.  Confused and rambling discussions not returned to until later a low point, but move on and learn from that is all that can be done.

Sunday.  The hangover and breakfast and discovery of Arsenal v. Liverpool at Jack Spratts.  Bobsled missed, but the 30th place result means not much was missed.  A remains undefeated in her support for the Arsenal, and then to the beaches to search for passage to the Pelican based on the Canadian's recommendation.  Chance meeting with Benji of the watercress juice, then the owner of the Sunset Resort (which we would return to for the pool and conversation with middle America) and then Eggy's.  A delightful little place with the best chicken of the trip, and fine fish for me, and a wait for the boat while reading and conversing.  The boat would "soon come", and so inevitably it did, and we were treated to a glorious trip that made the $25 fare instantly worth it.  The BOJ crew, the Happy theme music, Teddy's excitement (despite the wake for his father days earlier) showing that his brother from the same father and mother had lined us up with the right man for the job, the dolphins, the turtle, the clear water, the dancing Jamaican who had the locals in stitches, pissing into the waves, the couple from the States with the matching tanktops and hilarious dance moves, the dominos, the pictures taken to record the event, the old guy with the young Jamaican beauty and the boat race with them... so many highlights that made that excursion worth it, one of the best trips, as Teddy said, especially if any video evidence ever comes to light (still waiting).  The sunset pool and then return to the hotel, quick 64th birthday call from the "office", and picking up the stranger to show us Chris's restaurant for the final jerk meal and the domino tournament, the other hotel owner talking up treasure beach and the thoughts that would descend upon the return landing (all said with a smile) and then the actual domino challenge with the security man at the hotel - who would be disturbed every so often by the bell only he could hear rung by the old lady owner, who perhaps was the old man that you thought you saw on walking into the place.  But try as you could he could not be defeated at dominos, but long should his "happens all the time" catch-phrase ring in the ears.

An early Monday wake-up call and drive out of Treasure Beach, so soon after arrival but safe in the knowledge of having been alerted of the highlights, having found that laidback feel, and knowing the place in a way that can't be known unless it is seen and felt.  A taste of what a longer stay might be like, and the options that might be available in future years soon if you decide at some point (soon) to veer off in uncharted directions.  Stopping on the way back for breakfast and not really finding anything until a satisfying Whopper on the Mo' Bay strip, not fully answering direct questions and yet starting down that road of slow clarification and confession.  The final drive through town to randomly meet with the windshield washer who succeeded only in breaking the wiper, which was never fixed but the car managed to pass inspection all the same.  The reprinting of the boarding passes as the laptop check-in proved not enough, but time to buy the final bottle of the Special and send some work emails from the airport wi-fi and then get seated for the smooth, on-time ride home.

And that was that.  An enviable trip and maximal use of a few days in February that would otherwise have been spent moping around in storms and that was technically spent in Mahone (rather than Montego) Bay.  The simple hilarity in the same same but different nature of that excuse, as well as the lie by omission in (non)answering that it was Dad's birthday when asked where you had been...  To think that, still, no one knows.  And that it is likely to stay that way for some time anyway.  Until the next trip?  Until the video is posted?  We shall see.  It was a grand one though, and despite being pushed to failure due to assorted non-alignment's once again, it feels like progress is being made - various dalliances in Clayton Park and rides home from the Uzbek cabbie named Sanat-withstanding.  How easy the Cuban afternoon of nachos and wings and rings passed, and how lovely.  Try as you might you cannot help but want to plan for further adventures in that company.

Now we look out on the fresh week to come.  A day of standing in for David and bringing wind folks back up to speed on matters past and damages suffered, of organizing files in anticipation of questions to come and documents to be examined, all with an eye on the end of the day, supper and a movie and further thoughts of how to play out the hand.  Waiting ever-patiently for the discovery phase to finally conclude and bring about an ending to this madness.  Meanwhile hoping for some breaks on various other matters that will yield just enough work but not too much, and then trying to flush out what that will mean for the vacation plans ahead.  Already they have a large Brazil-sized hole in them, but perhaps there is an Easter surprise awaiting as well.  Time will show, as it does.  It won't not happen for lack of trying...