Bridgetown, Barbados
Reader, you have been with me long enough to know exactly how and why I travel. Reader, you know exactly what I mean when I say “Complete.” Reader, you know the difference between enjoyment and fulfillment. Reader, you have followed along with me as I have raced from place to place, trying to fit as much in to as short of a time as possible. Reader, what then happens when I say “Lesser Antilles Complete” but still have over two full days to kill before I have to fly home? Reader, what happens when I have done everything that I “have” to do and have time to do what I “want” to do? Reader, what happens when I stop racing around and instead just relax? Reader, what happens when I learn to travel like everyone else and enjoy myself? Do I discover that there's something there that wasn’t there before?
Of course not! I’m as bored af! I spent the day working, and I’m pretty much
entirely caught up. If there was more
work to do, I wouldn’t mind spending tomorrow working, too. There were more crises that needed my
attention, and I acquitted myself beautifully (possibly even better than I
would have if I was in New York). The
only problem was that heat was getting to me.
Everything was going well, but my depression was worsening. Yes, reader, I was lying here in paradise and
all the usual things I doubt were all going well. Ten degrees cooler, and I would have been in
heaven. As it was, I was in hell.
The first time I ever wondered if there was
something there, almost a year ago, I decided to be like everyone else. Instead of evaluating a potential mate based
on a list of characteristics (if she's smart, if she gets my jokes, if she can make me laugh, if we share the same values, etc.), I
fell in love with someone because of how she made me feel, not because I could
objectively point reasons why the relationship would work. We all know how poorly that turned out, but
it was a new experience for me being beholden to my emotions rather than to reason. I put my arm around her chair (not even
around her shoulder) at a Mets game.
All
the sudden, there was something there that wasn’t there before. Just like that. Five months later, it broke and burned and
ended, and I was miserable for those five months, but, for five hours, I was
the happiest I had ever been in my life.
For five months before that I had been wondering if there was something
there. All the sudden, in one moment,
there was something there that wasn’t there before.
It doesn’t have to be a romantic
relationship. I've mentioned the
four women who were in my life last semester, the four girls I loved liked
sisters (even if my actions towards one became more than brotherly). Two weeks later, the semester
started, and, instead of heading home after class, I waited with my Cohiba for
my two classmates to come down. We
chatted for about an hour. All the
sudden, there was something there that wasn’t there before. We were like the three best friends, talking
for almost an hour after class almost every class. Talking about everything and anything. There was something there that wasn’t there
last semester.
Then came my
coworker. Well, she had been working
there about two months before she sent me a friend request on Facebook. We barely spoke in the office. A few weeks ago, one of my coworkers teased
me something like, “Steven, I don’t get it.
You text her every day now, but the entire time she was working here you
exchanged maybe five words with her.” If
I had met her in a philosophy class when we were both single, I definitely
would have wanted to find out if there was something there. As it was, us both being in happy relationships when we met (and she still now), we definitively and permanently “friend-zoned”
each other, but that’s not the point of this story.
Okay, she sent me the friend request. I barely knew her, but I already knew that I
loved her and that I would always and forever.
I sat on the request for days.
Did I trust her enough to report on my activities from Facebook back to
management? Now, I’d trust her with my
life, with my darkest and deepest secrets, but, then, I hardly knew her. I accepted the request, and, suddenly, there
was something there that wasn’t there before.
When she left, there was no question of us staying in touch. Friendship is so weird, how friendships form,
the friends you choose to have in your life, why two people like each
other. It’s almost unexplainable.
The fourth girl? In October, after we had seen each other
twice over the course of two months, the first times we had seen each other
since the summer we met two years prior, we started texting every day. All the sudden, there was something there
that wasn’t there before. I now wonder
if it was always there but I just never realized it. That daily texting with her was all I ever
wanted with her. If I had made the
effort to keep in touch with her, would we have been texting every day for
three years now?
I should clarify,
when I first met her, I wanted more than just to have a new friend. I asked her out a few times, but she turned
me down. Once she went back to Orlando,
my feelings towards her slowly and steadily became more sisterly, but we’d only
text like once a month. All of the
sudden, in October, there was something there that wasn’t there before, and now I can't imagine what my life would be like without her friendship. She is the rock that keeps me grounded to
reality, that constantly reminds me that, like Spock, I have a human side,
too.
As for that human side, well, no, I’m
not enjoying travelling like everyone else.
I was much happier to be working today than I would have been on the
beach. Okay, one last example, a male
example this time, my new best friend. He
basically followed me home after work one day.
All of the sudden, there was something there that wasn’t there
before. I think one week recently we
hung out every night, by that I mean seven days in a row. It was completely spontaneous that we became
friends, but is a friendship that works, and there is a something there that
wasn’t there before.
Enough of
this. I was seriously considering today’s
entry being a one-liner, in line with King George’s apocryphal July 4th,
1776 journal entry, “Nothing important happened today.” I suppose that was true. Nothing important happened today. In fact, my brief #NightOnTheTown was the
only thing of note, but, of course, I will record every minor detail.
Reader, if you are only interested in the
philosophy/reflections, you can stop reading now. I think I had another cigar after I closed,
maybe a Jericho Hill, but I can’t recall.
I slept outside, and I actually slept pretty well. I woke up and went to breakfast. It was just me and the couple next door at
breakfast. I thought we were the only
ones staying at the hotel. It was a “four-course”
breakfast. All throughout breakfast, I
kept thinking to myself, “They’re trying too hard,” just like the check-in
clerk was trying too hard. The first course
was cereal. I wasn’t interested. The second course was a fruit plate. I asked for that to be brought later. I needed protein, badly.
She brought it out. It was an egg soufflé served with, get this,
grilled spiced shrimp and sweet potato.
They were definitely trying too hard. That wasn’t breakfast. It was
dinner. The saltfish was one thing, this
was just too much. I could barely
tolerate it on my palate first thing in the morning, but I was starving, so I
ate it all. I would have much preferred
just bacon and fried eggs. The fruit
plate, trying too hard, as well. A bowl
of cut-up melon would have done the trick.
Then they brought dessert, again, trying too hard. Apple tart with maple ice cream. It was delicious, but, again, they were
trying too hard. A bit of cake or a
donut would have done fine. Actually, I’m
going to pauseso that I can go inside and have my donut. I really need it.
Okay, so after breakfast I lit up a Winston Churchill and got to
work. Did I have another cigar before
lunch? Actually, I’ll need to check my
bands. No, doesn’t look like I did. I headed down towards the beach for lunch,
having no interest in actually going to the beach other than to take a
ceremonial picture to send to my friend who always teases me about not going to
the beach when I travel to the Caribbean.
The heat was starting to get to me.
I had been told to go to Cockspurs for lunch, but they only serve food
when there’s a ship in port. There was
none today, nor would there be one tomorrow.
There was a shack nearby, so I went there. I got fish and chips and a beer, accompanied
by an Aging Room. The meal was
delicious. I was so exhausted by the
time I was done that I forgot to take the ceremonial picture, and the food
portion was small, so I was getting hungry again. I stopped at the gas station to load up on
snacks.
Wow, I am dead tired. I’m going to have to wrap up. I’m not sure I’ll even have the energy to
publish tonight or sleep outside. Oh,
about that, well, when I got back to my room, the housekeeping staff was
there. They were making up the room, and
they seemed annoyed. “He slept outside,”
one of them muttered to the other one, as they brought the outside linens and
pillows back inside and remade the inside bed with the inside linens and
pillows and remade the outside bed with the outside pillows, thereby costing
themselves their tip. Seriously?!? If I slept outside last night, obviously I
wanted to sleep outside again. Why would
they go through all the trouble of making it harder for me to sleep outside
again? “The day bed is only to be used
in the daytime,” I would later joke to my cousin.
I finished my cigar as I worked and then I
needed to lie down again. The heat was
winning this battle. I worked for the
rest of the afternoon, but I had no energy.
My next cigar was a new one called, “Mr. Sam.” It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great. I can’t remember if I bought it or if it was
a gift. There was an emergency proposal revision
that needed to go out by the end of the day, and I was the only one who could
do it. As soon as that was finished, I
called the front desk and asked for a taxi to be called to take me into
town. Okay, I think I might need to take
a short nap before I finish, so I’ll pause again. Definitely won’t be watching my movie
tonight.
Alright, that was a long pause, but I think I’m energized enough to
wrap this up before I pass out. Slightly
past 6 PM, I headed towards the reception area to see if my cab was there, as
it should have been by then. It wasn’t. There was someone else there, someone I hadn’t
seen there before. Actually, maybe I had
seen him lounging in the garden during the day.
A cab soon came, but we weren’t sure whose cab it was, mine or his. We were both heading in to town, so we shared
it. Half the cost, excellent. The driver recommended that I go to the
Waterfront Café for dinner. They had a
great menu, but it seemed overpriced, very much overpriced. I decided to chance it, since this was going
to be my #NightOnTheTown.
I was glad I
did. I ordered the fish cakes as an
appetizer and the fish special as my main course. I also got another beer. When the fish cakes came, I said to myself
that, for the price I paid, they better be the best fish cakes in the world. They were.
When I finished, I lit up my Partagas.
I was soon told I couldn’t smoke there.
These were the only tables that had been sheltered from the rain. Oh, right, it had been raining all day, so I
took the cigar and walked a little closer to the water with my beer while I
waited for my main course.
There was a
boating outfit shop, so I asked if there was anyone who could take me around on
a boat for an hour. He said that he
couldn’t but recommended a couple of other boats. My fish plate was soon there, but I started
with the sides, fried plantains and potato wedges. Just the sides were practically orgasmic, and
the fish was even better. It was
definitely worth the price. I got a rum
to go with it (“not Mount Gay”). After I
finished, I relit my cigar while I waited for the check, then I walked around
the harbor to try and find the boats. I
couldn’t find the boats, nor could I find any boats that were crewed. There went that plan.
I walked around until I discovered a busy
side street with a pool hall. There were
a bunch of arcades with video poker machines.
Long story short, after playing for a bit, I put 8 coins in won, got
four of a kind, and got 200 coins back.
The coins weren’t worth much, but I knew to quit when I was ahead, it was
enough to pay for my milkshake, my cab fare back, and then some. When I got back, I lit up my Rovera. Wondering if I had now smoked a pipe in every
country in the lesser Antilles, I looked back at my first few entries. I didn’t smoke pipes either in Saint Lucia or
Trinidad and Tobago, so, no. I then
proceeded to write this entry, pausing as note.
I will now close so that I can crash and save the publication for the
morning.
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