How I Got To Jamaica And Survived Story

So I’m back.

And now I feel like I don’t know what day it is, but I know it must be time for a mimosa except no one is bringing one to me, and I can’t find the ocean outside my patio doors.

What in the world?

How did that go by so stinking fast?

Wasn’t I just having a massage?

Wasn’t I just snorkeling?  (Or pretending to snorkel after I couldn’t remember to get the hang of it and so I was mostly drowning but acting like I knew what I was doing because who wants to be embarrassed when they’re in the middle of the ocean wearing a bathing suit that you’re not comfortable in, especially when your big be-hind is sticking up out of the water’s surface?)

Wasn’t I just reading my first book, followed by two others, plus starting a fourth on the plane?  (I failed in my attempt to read one book a day, what with the hubby wanting to have conversations, plus fitting in all the food and sleeping and pretend snorkeling, but I think 3 and 1/4 books read in a 7 day period is still pretty good.)

SIGH.

I will try extremely hard not to bore you with my Jamaican mon talk too much.

However.

I do want to tell you how my trip started.  I almost opened up my laptop as soon as we arrived so that I could write it down.

Except I didn’t.  I took a nap instead.  It couldn’t be helped.  You’ll see why.

Here is how my trip started.

We flew out of LAX.  And we took a red-eye.  We went with another couple and had a drink (where we toasted and we were all happy and excited for our trip because it hadn’t happened yet and we were on that we are going on a trip!!! high that happens before you’re actually on the trip and start thinking oh no, I’m leaving in six days, oh no, now I only have five days left, I will only get to see the sunset like this three more times, how is the trip half over already, we just got here, etc etc.  Or is that just me?

Anywho, there was a lady in the bar.

Or a young female.  Lady might be too much of a stretch.

And she was drunk as a skunk.  There is no plainer way to say it.  And she started flirting with my husband because he was there, and I think she saw that his wallet had money in it, and maybe he would buy her a drink and why not?  Who cares about that little person standing next to him?

Well, guess what?  My hubby cares about the little person standing next to him so back off skunk lady!

She was a piece of work.  She was sloppy.  And she kept saying, “We’re going to MiYAMI!”

Although she was by herself, but I think she meant herself plus her double vision or something.

Well, we were going to MiYami too.

We had a layover there.

We boarded the plane.  I sat in the middle and my husband sat on the aisle.  We got all settled.  

And then.

Skunky boarded the plane and headed our way.  I prayed inside my head, no, no, no, please no, please no, no, no, no . . . 


And sure enough.

Yes.

Skunky was our seat-mate.

I had to hold her hand when we took off because she was scared.  And I felt like I had to be kind to her.  I had prayed that she wouldn’t sit next to me and then BAM, there she was so I was pretty sure there was a reason.  So even though I didn’t want to hold her hand when we took off, and it was more like she grabbed my hand and cried out, “I’m scared, I’m scared, I’m scared!” for the whole plane to hear, I allowed her to hold my hand and told her it was okay, we would be okay, God would keep us safe.

Then, for the next five hours on the RED EYE flight, when others were asleep because it was dark and it was the RED EYE flight, Skunky continued to drink and talk and ask to be let out of our row every hour on the hour.  

At one point, she told me the bartender was so cool.

The bartender.

As in, the flight attendant who kept selling her the beer.

At another point, she put her ear buds in and danced to absolutely nothing.  She didn’t have her ear buds plugged into anything.

And, at a point after that, she crossed her legs and stretched them out onto my lap.

ONTO MY LAP, I said.

To which my hubby said, “Uh, no.  You can’t do that.”  And pushed them down.

She said she was sorry, she didn’t know.

So you’re welcome whoever you are that flies next to her the next time.  She now knows she can’t just stretch out her legs onto the laps of strangers.  I did my part.

We flew through a thunderstorm and couldn’t land in the first attempt.

I was just as calm as a cucumber.  It wasn’t like I hadn’t slept a wink and/or had a drunk person leaning all over me and knocking me upside the head and rustling around in her carry-on for who-knows-what all the livelong day.  Nope.  Turbulence?  No biggie.  Extra time on the plane while the pilot figured out how to land without us being struck by lightning?  Sure.  Why not?

Well.  We landed on the second attempt from a different direction and it was pouring.  POURING.

And the pilot got on the intercom and said, as we coasted down the runway, “OHHHHHH YEAAAAAAAAAH!” in a super deep voice and we all applauded.  Because he did an amazing job.  Really.

It should have been in a movie.

But then Skunky said, “Oh yeah!  He gave it to us good!  Give it to me good!”

In the loudest voice ever.

She also figured out it was raining.  And she said, “It’s raining?  Oh yay!  I love the rain!”  And she clapped her hands gleefully.  (Well, when her hands actually connected.  She missed a few times.)

This was followed up with, “It’s raining?  Seriously?  I hate the rain.  What?  It’s raining?”

Then we got off the plane.

Thank goodness.

I am happy to report that I sat next to the quietest man ever on our connecting flight.  And he kept his hands and feet to himself, thank you very much.

So that’s my How I Got To Jamaica And Survived Story.  I thought you would want to know.

Also, you can rest assured that if you ever fly with me, I will be the one that sits next to these types of people.

I just always am.

It’s just the way it is.

Just call me Buffer, the Airplane Seat Blocker.  You’ll be safe with me.

Come back tomorrow to find out all about this!

Until then, I have laundry to do.

And I need more cuddle time with Miss Murphie.

🙂