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The Bang Bang Theories


Just like no one wants to look at someone else’s vacation photos, or  – even worse – watch someone else’s old vacation home videos (sorry, Mama, for making you watch my trip to Las Vegas in 1992!) – no one wants to see or probably hear about my vacay. You didn’t get to go, so really whaddaya care.  You don’t.

So rather than rehash it all for you, Reader, or even show you endless photos of palm trees and beaches, we’ll work on story vignettes.

Except see above for my pretty palm tree picture, taken from my beach veranda in St. Croix, where I’m happy to report that neither I nor my Travel Gal got murdered.

What, you never think you’re going to possibly get murdered on vacation?

Well, then I’m original, Reader, because it crossed my mind and then crossed my Travel Gal’s mind because I said it out loud and put it right there in her brain when we got to our spontaneous, expensive resort on a dark and secluded beach in St. Croix where we had a beautiful double set of french doors which opened right to the beach and were insecurely secured by these janketty chains that one swift push from the other side could easily bust through and then I and my Travel Gal would be Taken and sold into the 50+ Sex Slave Group, and p.s., that wouldn’t work out well in their favor because I’m not bendy, have a delicate p-hole, and don’t do much exerting so jokes on you Sex Traffickers.

Janketty Chains exhibit 1 & 2:

How did we end up in a secluded resort where I feared for the safety of my p-hole and my b-hole, you ask? Well.

  1. 1. We missed our cruise ship due to multiple flight delays and divertings due to ferocious storms and low fuel. Long story short. For once. You’re welcome.

So we had to Plan B it and that’s how we ended up there for two nights instead of one simple and easy ship excursion day.

We arrived in St. Croix so late on a Sunday night and had been nothing but warned about the hotel we selected being the Wrong Choice by the locals we talked to, we had All The Reasons to be worried.

  1. 1. It’s SO FAR.  TOO FAR. WAY WAY FAR.

Had we cancelled – and believe me, Reader, we took these warnings to heart and tried to cancel as soon as we landed in their very small airport – we would have had to pay for one of our two nights of accommodations and for $450 we decided to just go and risk it. How bad could it be.

  1. 1. No Taxis were available by the time we tried to catch one at the airport. No one would drive us ALL THAT WAY, IN THE DARK.
  2. 2. Rideshares are illegal.
  3. 3. Option 3. Rent a car. Which my Travel Gal did, and then had her first panic attack that I’ve ever witnessed when it dawned that they drive on the left side of the road.

So let’s do a quick recap:

  1. 1. We’ve been warned.
  2. 2. It’s dark as fuck.
  3. 3. We don’t know where we’re going.
  4. 4. The roads are in “Island Okay” condition.
  5. 5. Drive on the opposite side of the road than what you’ve done your entire whole U.S. Adult Driving Life.
  6. 6. p.s., St. Croix is a U.S. island. Why the trickery?

We plugged in the address to our phones – thank you, Steve Jobs – and discovered our Caramabola Resort was a whole 9 miles away. So far. Nine. Miles. They panicked us over nine miles.

The speed limit on the island is never more than 35 miles an hour. Even I – a slow and steady wins the race driver – could manage that.

We passed a market and stocked up on supplies. Beers, waters, diet cokes, chips, cookies, grapes. The essentials.

p.s. – prices for groceries are so. high. that I asked another shopper, “Are these numbers in U.S. Dollars??”

They were U.S. dollars because we’re IN THE U.S. and he thought I was on crack probably.

We arrived at our lovely enough resort and got settled into a room that was so secluded, a golf cart driver drove us and our luggage to it.

The room was spacious, but less than luxury. But it was fine. Fine enough. And it opened right onto the beach. Location location location.

We were settled, until we realized our main door wouldn’t open from the inside.

Trixie to Travel Gal: “I don’t like this. What if some Bad Guys burst in through the french doors, and we can’t get out?”

Travel Gal: “Well, I hadn’t considered that but now I’m considering that! I don’t like it.”

*I do want to point out how cute I am, that I think I could escape from Determined Bad Guys with my sheer strength and exceptional agility, as long as I have the right doors to open.

I wasn’t even super worried until the golf cart driver, Dave – who was v.v. nice by the way – whistled a weird little tune as he got us settled in our room, shut the door and carted away.

The whistled tune perked up my hairs.

I don’t like a randomly whistled tune.

Trixie to Travel Gal: “That whistled tune was uncalled for. It’s how the horror movies start!”

We called maintenance and they did determine it was not us, but the door and had another guy who specifically “works on doors” – who knew? – come and handle it.

And that’s the story of how we ended up not murdered for two unexpected nights in St. Croix when we were supposed to be in our Spacious Balcony Room on a cruise ship instead. I’d still call it a check in the win category, because 1. we weren’t murdered and 2. beautiful secluded beach.

2 thoughts on “Re-Routed.

  1. You are sooooo very lucky to be alive!! The warnings, the timing, the road and seclusion were scary enough … the whistle and skimpy chains would have me packing!!!! So happy u made it back alive! Ps. I am reading a story now where the girl’s remains were just that… no body, but bones, muscle and blood because it was put in a wood chipper.

    Truly had me on the edge of my seat! The pictures helped show the integrity of your descriptions. Fascinating piece since I knew you made it home….alive!
    Welcome home!

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