Part 2: 8 Years

Let me recap for a moment...

we were aboard this boat on our way through the west indies.

there are lots of older people in bikinis yelling at their husbands to hold their  wine spritzers while they yank a mast.

i get sea sick and fall asleep early one night, while terry has exotic drinks bought for him by a diamond-studded man named bruce and gets hammered.  on the first night.

terry is hungover the following day, and yet he still goes biking with me.

we climb out to the bow of the boat that is made of only knotted rope.  so amazing!

and we banana-boated with our new fun friends.

... so, after the hung-over bike ride, kayak race, and banana boat fun with Gertie and Herb, we decided to venture out on our own the next day.  St. Kitt's, here we come!

St. Kitt's was beautiful, but it was probably the poorest of the islands we explored.  We were glaringly pale-skinned (even with the killer tans we had already effortlessly scored), and we just had an all 'round American-tourist aura about us, what with the cameras and fanny packs and whatnot.  The moment we stepped foot onto land, we were greeted by Rastas who were eager to braid my hair, sell me beads, and get Terry stoned.

Terry suggested that we rent a scooter and zip around on that, but just as we were about to sign the rental papers, thunderclouds rolled in over our heads.  We opted for a smartcar instead.  So much fun!

That day was the weirdest combination of beautiful, dramatic, humbling, and inspiring.  And sexy.  Honeymoons are always sexy, even in third world countries.  I swear, the sight of goats chasing roosters on an overcast day was enough to trigger some newlywed tingle. It's just the way it was.

We found ourself on some desserted beach where there was a little private airport close by, and uncomfortably close-ranged planes flew over our heads while we reenacted scenes from the Blue Lagoon.  (As a favor to my husband I should clarify that we didn't really reenact scenes from the Blue Lagoon.  Hmph.)  We saw kimono dragrons and exotic birds, all wild and public.  We ran for shelter when it rained, and we swam around the crystal clear water when the rains stopped. It was crazy and magical.  I loved that day.

And after we handed the keys back to the car rental dealer, we headed back to the dock from which we arrived.

"You know what would make this moment even sexier, Terry?  If we had a baby with us!"  Ha!

We sat there, talked about the things we saw, scrolled through the photos we took, giggled, kissed, talked a little more, and then...

"Terry?  Where's the boat?"

That moment looked different from the past twos days where we waited to board the ship.  The previous two days there were other shipmates standing next to us.  There were dingies that were shuttling groups of 6 or so back to the ship.  And more obviously, the ship itself should have been visible from the dock.  The setting sun was in perfect view from where we sat, no boat or ship blocking the beautiful vista.

And that's when our hearts sank.

Terry hailed a cab (or some man with a van who said he was a cab driver), and we asked him to take us to the other side of the island.  The man claimed that there were only 2 ports on St. Kitt's: the one we came from and the one he was taking us to.  We trusted him.  We had no other choice.  We held hands tight and we flew through the same course we had just come, but at a much speedier, less romantic pace. Fear of getting stuck on a foreign island was, in fact, the one thing that could take the tingle out of a honeymoon.

When we pulled up to the port (which was actually the same beach we were at only an hour earlier), and low and behold... our ship was far off in the distance, getting smaller and smaller by the second.

I go into full on donkey-hysteria mode.  "Whatarewegoingtodoohmygodwe'restuckonthisscaryislandwhatarewegoingtodo!?"  Terry stays calm and shoots me the shut-up look.

There is a straw-roofed hut in the distance, and a shirtless man with dreadlocks longer than Crystal Gail-locks is walking toward us.  He is holding a styrofoam cooler.  And sohelpme he said, "Hey mon, you stuck here, eh?  I can rent you out some space real cheap! Ha ha ha...", and lightening strike me if I'm not serious, he held up THE STYROFOAM COOLER!

At that point, I am sure that we are about to be chopped from limb to limb and rubbed down with jerk seasoning.  Terry must've felt the same chill too, and he begins making deals with the cab driver.  The CB radio in his makeshift taxi (I was impressed) managed to call the coast guard.  The coast guard called our all-ready-very-serious captain.  Our captain refused to turn the ship around for two idiots who can't read an itinerary.  However, he did allow the deckhands (still panting) to rescue us in an emergency dingy, all bright orange and Baywatch-looking.

Unlike the dingies that picked us up normally, like the days that we had not missed the boat, these boats wouldn't come ashore.  (Or maybe this was just part of captain's orders for proper punishment?)  So, we had to wade out waist-deep into the ocean, my skirt floating on top of the clear blue water, and hoist ourselves into a boat that looked just like this:

(ah ha! they do come ashore!)

I have zero upper body strength, by the way.  In gym class, I remember dangling from the pull-up bar, unable to do even one pull-up.  Well, even in crisis mode I was unable to muster the strength to pull myself up and over the inflatable sides of the boat.  As I was stuck there, dangling off the side of the boat, bags and camera drowning in the ocean, Terry has already pulled himself up and over.  He is now sitting next to the hot deckhands, all 4 strong able-bodied men watching me struggle to pull my fat water-logged ass up.  Either chivalry had died that day, or it was too entertaining to not watch.  As if dangling wasn't embarrassing enough, I had to ask for help!

And as they pulled me into the boat, wet fabric sticking to the wrong parts of my body, I hear Terry saying (he didn't help the hot deckhands by the way), "Sorry guys, she's like reeling in a big tuna."

We sped ahead the same way Hasselhoff would have, hitting waves and bumping up and down.  I had to hold onto the ropes to keep from flying out.  (Goodness knows, wouldn't want the boys to lose their big catch of the day.)  And when we began getting closer to the ship, it dawned on me:

We are going to have to board A MOVING SHIP!

It was the most adventurous, crazy, and ugly maneuver of my life... while one deckhand is driving the dingy, another is holding both the side of the boat and my hand.  The third deckhand is reaching toward the rope ladder that is flapping off the side of this enormous ship.  After he grabs it, he pulls it towards Terry (men first, of course), and Terry steadies himself to start climbing up the side of the boat.  It was insane!  By the time I start climbing up this long ladder behind Terry (I'm not exaggerating when I say that the base of the boat had to have been at least three stories tall), every person on the ship had come out of their cabins or off the shuffleboard to watch the real entertainment.  Nothing beats watching the two youngest (stupidest) shipmates get rescued, all wet and windblown.

Camera flashes are going off, people are shaking their heads in disapproval, and no one is laughing.  My cheeks were bright red as I climbed aboard and stepped foot onto the wooden deck.  People were unashamedly annoyed by our "antics", as if we missed the boat just for childish kicks.  Did no one feel bad for us?  Or more so, did no one find this funny?!  Had I been watching me climb up the side of a boat, my skirt blowing up over my head, I'd have been doubled over laughing.

The captain met us at the top of the ladder.  Arms crossed, standing tall and upright in a uniform much like this,

he says, "I assume you need an itinerary?"

We nod.

"And I assume you will not make 'dis mistake again?"

We nod.

"Go.  Wash up for dinner."

And we slink away into our cabin, where we sat on our bed, ears and cheeks burning from embarrassment.  Every few minutes we'd look at each other and say, "Did that really happen!?" We had no intention of going to the dining hall for dinner that night, for fear that we would be approached by old people who wanted to lecture us.

Minutes before the kitchen was ready to close, we ran to the dining hall to grab a bite to eat.  Sitting in a booth in the corner of the dining hall sat Bruce and his wife.  They hailed us over and asked us to join them for more drinks.  Drinks sounded great.

Bruce and his wife were in fact the only people aboard S.S.Cranky who found our stunt funny.  Very funny actually.  Bruce coordinated some sort of secret celebration with the kitchen staff, involving cake, candles, and singing.  They surprised us with it, and congratulated us on our marriage.  The embarrassment of the afternoon was waning, and we realized how happy we were through cake, drinks, and laughter.

And this story set the tone for our marriage.  As soon as you think you're the captain in life, you realize you're actually only a stupid passenger who's lost their itinerary.  But moments like that make for great stories that you get to share with the person you love most.  (When he's not calling you a tuna.)

That was the last trip we took before having children.  (Fiona was conceived a few weeks later.)