Spring Break 2015 - Day 2 - Windward Bound

4/5/15 (Easter)

Miami International Airport, Florida (MIA)

Well, here I am at MIA, which, for three Passovers in a row now, has been my jumping off point to a week or so in the North American tropics.  2013 brought me to the Windward Islands, 2014 Central America, and now, in 2015, I am #WindwardBound once more.  In a couple of days, I will be able to announce “Windward Islands Complete.”  There are four countries in the Windward Antilles (note the commas): Dominica (where I began this Travelogue), Saint Lucia, Grenada, and Saint Vincent’s and the Grenadines.

February 2014 brought me to the Leeward Islands, Antigua and Barbuda and Saint Kitts and Nevis (two countries).  Though I did visit Barbuda, I announced “Antigua and Barbuda Complete” within about an hour of landing in St. John’s.  “Quaint.”  That’s the word Jamaica Kincaid used to describe the island in “A Small Place,” and it is the best word to describe these islands, the Lesser Antilles as a whole.  It is quite possible that that book, that word, more than anything has been the impetutus of the allure of the Lesser Antilles for me.

After I announce, “Windward Islands Complete,” I will continue on to Barbados, which will allow me to say, “Lesser Antilles Complete,” a task that entailed three trips, eight countries, four World Heritage Sites, and the consumption of more local coffee than I could possibly imagine.  Each of these countries has their own coffee, their own rum, and it’s all good, really good.

When I asked my coworker if he was going to miss me while I was away, he said that he wouldn’t but that he was very jealous.  Then, he paused and added that he was also angry at me because he knew that I would not spend a moment on the beach and instead spend the entire time sitting under an umbrella and smoking cigars.  How well he knows me.  To him, that is a waste of a trip.  To me, that is what the Caribbean is, the only way I can enjoy these lovely Lesser Antilles.

As I have mentioned countless times, and as I will demonstrate over the next week, it is not the beach that brings me to the Caribbean.  It is the interior.  Beaches are beaches anywhere in the world, but only the Caribbean (and Central America) has so well preserved the remnants of Colonial times.  It is a place that can be summed up with one word: quaint.  We will soon be boarding, and I want to watch movies on the plane, I think, or, actually I don’t know, maybe nap or work on my personal journal or my thematic analysis of the “I want” songs. 

Whichever way, I’ll need to wrap up with the events of today.  I slept in for once, only waking up with as much lead time as I would need to get ready and pack.  Oh, wait, the events of last night.  After I closed, well, things started going downhill.  My lighter wasn’t working, the Wi-Fi wasn’t working outside.  About half a dozen little things went wrong.  It took me almost an hour before I could start my movie, and my cigar was already well underway.  Though I recognized the irrationality of it, I was on the verge of tears.  I had it timed perfectly.  I would publish my entry, watch Hercules, and be done before midnight at the same time I was done with my cigar, which would give me some time with the family before we all went to bed.  My mom came out, and we watched about half the movie together before she went to bed.

Okay, this morning, I wasn’t particularly hungry when I woke up, but I needed coffee, badly.  Since I had overslept, my coffee had been waiting for me for over an hour.  My mom said she would microwave it, but I refuse to drink microwaved coffee.  Fortunately, the coffee was still lukewarm, so that did the trick.  Well, needless to say, it took way too long for everyone to get ready.  We were meeting my dad’s side of the family for lunch.  My mom thought we didn’t have to be there until 12:30 PM (12:15 PM was what my dad had told his sister), and she didn’t realize that I needed to be at the airport 2 hours early.  Let’s just say there was more hectic chaos.

Eventually, we all got on the road, and we were, of course, 15 minutes late.  My lighter was still not working, so my mom was going to stop at a drug store to get me butane while I met up with the family and told them they were coming.  This was the only place in the area open for Easter, so it was packed.  It was good to see everyone, and apparently I had not met my cousin G--- (my dad’s sister’s grandson) before.  He is in ninth grade, and he is about my size.  I was starving, so ordered a waffle, bacon, gyro lamb, eggs, and lots of coffee.  I ate every last bite.  We took some ceremonial pictures, much to the chagrin of the waitress.

When I got up from the table to take my last Official U in America for a week, I saw that everyone had reseated themselves to talk to people they hadn’t spoken with during the meal.  I found myself next to my cousin M---, G---‘s mother.  It was getting time for me to leave so that I wouldn’t worry about missing my flight.  I don’t remember who mentioned it, but someone was saying how much G--- looked like M---‘s ex-boyfriend, Andrew, the reason my first name is Steven instead of Andrew, which is my middle name.  M---‘s mother asked her when she last saw Andrew.  Without missing a beat, I deadpanned, “About 9 months before G--- was born.”  That caused quite some laughter, so I pulled a George Costanza.  I banged the table and announced that I was leaving on a high note.

We said our goodbyes, and I got in the car, but Mulan back on, and lit up a Cohiba.  I needed to gas up and also wanted to try again to find butane (my mom had gotten lighter fluid, not butane gas).  Well, as I was driving, I found a cigar store.  They refilled my lighter, and I got some good cigars, the kind I had wanted from the store on Congress.  Well, the lighter was clogged, that was why it was not working, not because the guy on Congress had refilled it improperly.  I bought another cheap lighter, which would get me through the week and was on my way.  I stopped for gas en route.

Getting from the car rental place to my gate took about half the time as the reverse did on Friday.  Security was a breeze, taking less than five minutes, as they put me in the PreCheck lane.  I got to my gate, where I charged my phone and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close, as we will soon be boarding.

Aboard AA 1546, En route MIA-GND

Only people who play RPGs can understand my pain right now.  Once we reached cruising altitude, I played my game for about an hour, and my plan was to save it and then spend an hour writing the thematic analysis I kept mentioning.  I could close out today’s entry when I got to my hotel tonight, and I’d have a great entry to publish by 10 PM, perfect, right?  Well, there was no save point.  I found myself in a town, so I bought all my new weapons and armor, stocked up on supplies, talked to everyone in town, signed up for the next quest, spent half an hour in the dungeon, opening up every treasure chest, still no save point.  What the fuck?

Finally I got to the point where I was just fleeing every battle in the name of time.  Then, I saw it, the save point, but I pressed the wrong button, and I went the wrong direction.  Well, I found myself facing the boss before I saved, and it was a tough boss.  Anyone who plays RPGs knows what happens the first time you fight a boss, right?  You lose, and you die, and it’s game over, but that’s okay, because you usually have saved right before the fight, and you’ve learned his strengths and weakenesses.  That’s how it’s supposed to work.

Well, I didn’t get to save, so, I’ll need to replay all the way from the forest, do everything in town all over again, go through the same dungeon again, fight all the same monsters, all of which will take over an hour, and it will be boring af (yes, I’m using that term now, Google it if you’re over thirty) because I just did it.  These games are fun when everything’s new, and that’s the whole point, but repeating the exact same hour of the game, that’s a nightmare.  It’s like listening to the same song for an hour, or watching the same movie back to back to back.  I’m not talking about Beauty and the Beast.  I’m talking about a movie that’s decent but that you only need to watch once.

Pissed at the author for designing the game so poorly, I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close.  I’m not sure if I’ll be able to include the thematic analysis tonight, or if I want to just publish as is.  I guess it depends what I can include and still publish by 10 PM.  Maybe I’ll just get started on the analysis and finish it tomorrow, or I can write it tonight and publish it on my other blog.  Yeah, I guess that’s what I’ll wind up doing.  Besides, I want to share that analysis with some people with whom I don’t particularly want to share this Travelogue.  Fuck, there are things in the new blog that I want to share even less with the people with whom I want to share the Travelogue.  I guess I can revert those posts to drafts.  Problem solved.

St. George’s, Grenada

The past 48 hours have really been stunning examples of Murphy’s Law.  Everything that could go wrong went wrong.  However, once I took that first Official U in Grenada, it didn’t matter what pitfalls I entailed in the journey, I was at my first destination.  That was all that mattered.  It didn’t matter our flight was half an hour late.  It didn’t matter that the lines for Immigration and Customs took an hour.  It didn’t matter that no one was opening the door for my hotel when I arrived.  All that mattered was that I was finally lying on my bed in my hotel room a quarter mile away from the Grenada Parliament.

When I travel, I define success in varying ways.  Yeah, I care more about whether my trip is successful than enjoyable.  When I did the trip last year to CA-4, the definition of success was quite clear: saying “CA-4 Complete.”  That meant 8 World Heritage Sites in 4 Countries, with flag pins, Official meals, and pictures at Parliament in each country.  Miraculously, we did it.  There were so many near misses, but it all worked out in the end.

The definition of success here is much simpler.  Three countries, three flag pins, three Parliaments (the Parliament in Barbados is actually a WHS).  That is what it will take for me to say “Lesser Antilles Complete,” and I have a week to do it.  I don’t even have my inter-island flights booked yet, I have granted myself that much flexibility.  Wait, I never travel that way.  I always have every little detail planned months in advanced.

Not this time.  This time, I need the flexibility.  For starters, tomorrow is a holiday.  It is Easter Monday.  That means that stores will be closed.  The cruise terminal will be opened if there is a ship in port.  If I can get my flag pin tomorrow, I can take the early flight on Tuesday to Saint Vincent’s.  Otherwise, I need to take the late flight, which will not get me to my hotel until close to midnight.  I do not want to do that.

I want to do everything I need to do in Grenada tomorrow, including putting in my 8 hours of office work remotely, wake up early, and be in Kingstown by noon Tuesday.  That will give me lots and lots of time there to do whatever I need to do before I go to Barbados.  I can only hope that Murphy has gotten tired of me and moved on to his next victim.

Okay, so what did Murphy have in store for me this evening?  Well, I have enough experiencing travelling to know the merits of showing up at a small hotel at 9 PM and hoping someone will be there to check you in.  This hotel doesn’t even have a website.  I had to make my reservation over the phone.  The guy spoke perfect English, and I could hear him as clear as a whistle, yet I had to repeat everything to him three times.  Eventually, I just spell name out with NATO Phonetic letters.  The conversation went something like this.  “Steven Margolin.”  “How do you spell that?”  “M A R G O L I N.” “[A butchered spelling that’s not even close.]”  “No, M A R G O L I N.”  “[Another butchered spelling.]”  “Mike.”  “Your name is Mike?”  “No, my name is Steven.  I’m trying to spell out my last name for you.  M as in Mike.”  “Okay.”  “Mike Alpha Romeo Golf Oscar Lima India November.”  That worked.  I had let him know that I would be arriving at 8 PM.

Well, I got the time of my flight wrong.  It wasn’t landing until 8:11 PM, so I called him from MIA to tell him I would be there at 9 PM.  He seemed annoyed that I called him and just told me everything would be waiting for me.  I did not have much faith in this hotel, so I looked up the reviews online.  They were good reviews, and they said that it was actually the only hotel in the city.  Reader, remember that point.  Well, the flight was further delayed and didn’t land until 8:30 PM.  It was 8:45 PM by the time I got inside the terminal, and it was 9:30 PM by the time I cleared Immigration.  Meanwhile, I was slightly torn.  The guy seemed annoyed when I called him the first time.  Did I call him again now to tell him it would be 10 PM?  Or did I just show up and hope that he hadn’t given up on me and left for the night.

I chose the latter.  I went to Duty Free, but they didn’t have any decent cigars.  There was another line for Customs, and I couldn’t find the Grenada stamp in my passport.  I had to head back to Immigration, and she showed it to me, faded out, on a random page.  I took a taxi into town, and she informed me that tomorrow was a holiday.  If there were no ships, there would be no souvenirs, which would mean I would have to take the 9:30 PM flight Tuesday instead of the 9:30 AM flight I want to take.

No one knows if there is a ship in port.  When I wake up tomorrow, I will know.  I just have to go out to the balcony and look.  Hell, if there is a ship in port, I could wake up at 7:30 AM, have breakfast (my Official meal), get my souvenirs, take a picture at Parliament, come back to my hotel, light up a cigar, announce “Grenada Complete,” and be sitting down to work by 9 AM.  Otherwise, things get dicey.

We got to the hotel, but it was pitch black and all locked up.  I tried calling while she tried banging on the door.  No answer.  She was not going to leave me here, especially since I hadn’t paid her yet.  I asked her if there were any other hotels in town?  No, this was the only one.  Finally, we saw a light come on, and the guy took me to my room.  He said that the check-in process would have to wait until morning.

I got situated in my room, and I was going to get started on this entry, but the battery on my laptop wasn’t fully charged.  Also, it needed to run some updates, and I didn’t want it to restart at an inopportune moment.  I figured that I could charge it while it updated and while I got ready to go outside.  That didn’t work too well.  The update took way too long, and I was all ready to go.  I was bored af.  The instant it rebooted, I headed outside, where I lit up my Ardor and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish and see what tomorrow has in store.