2/6/16, “One
Night in Nassau”
Nassau, The
Bahamas
The flight
from Florida to Nassau is shorter than an episode of “The X-Files,” and I have
been to Florida well over 20 times, yet this marks the first time I have been
to The Bahamas. One night in Nassau,
that was all I needed to check this country off my list, but what a night it
was. It is now past 1 AM, and I arrived
at my hotel, the world-famous Graycliff Inn, here a little after 7 PM, six
hours ago.
I have not been more than a
block away from my hotel since I arrived.
I am staring out at the Government House, which I call the “Pink House,”
the brightly colored governor’s mansion, smoking my 2010 Christmas Pipe, just
as I did in Quebec, Istanbul, Lake Placid, the Bransfield Strait, and
Belmopan. While it is nigh impossible to
compete with that night on the Bransfield, tonight lays waste to the relatively
lackluster nights I experienced in those other locales. After I closed last night, I published my
entry. I then responded lengthily to an email from
my father’s friend.
It was past 3 AM by
the time I collapsed into bed and close to 11 AM when I finally woke up. It was a bit of a rush, since we needed to go
to visit my grandmother, and we would need to leave there by 2 PM for me to
make my train. The pain in my foot,
which has now started to abate, had gotten much worse, and I could barely
walk. We stopped at Einstein Bagels for
brunch I guess it was at this point, and I ate in the car. I also further explained the details of my
solution to the soda problem.
I had
finished eating by the time we got to my grandmother’s place, and, once more, I
could barely walk. They provided me with
two things that would help in abating the issue with my foot pain. First, we iced my foot. Second, they gave me a cane, which helped a
lot. After about an hour there, we made
our way to the train station. The train
was right on time, it had WiFi, and there was an outlet next to me, all
good. I went to continue the email
debate with my father’s friend. I wanted
to plug in my laptop. Wait,
noooooooo. I had left the charger at my
parent’s place. With my previous laptop,
that would have been a disaster, but this beaut has over six hours of battery
life.
We arrived at the airport station
a little behind schedule, and the shuttle bus to the airport had already left,
or so it seemed. That didn’t make any
sense. Whom were they shuttling if the
train was late? It turned out there were
two buses around the same time, but the driver for the second one was missing. I had almost no cash on me, so a taxi didn’t
seem an option. Fortunately, someone
else there was able to drive it. I went
to check-in for my flight, a little tight on time, but still comfortable. It was taking too long. What was wrong?
Well, it turned out that my flight was
cancelled. They wanted to put me on the
next flight, which would not get me to Nassau until after 9 PM. That was not an option. I would arrive too late for dinner. I told them to refund my ticket, and I would
take the JetBlue flight at 5:12 PM. That
worked out, but it meant I had to swap my return flight, too. Fine, whatever, I just wanted to get to the
Straw Market before it closed at 8 PM, watch the debate, and have dinner at the
hotel restaurant. I would have time in
the morning to take daylit ceremonial pictures.
The flight was unadventurous and short.
The immigration line was practically nonexistent. Reader, this is a country that is dedicated
to tourism, and that means making border control as painless as possible. I took a taxi from the airport to my hotel,
getting there, as I mentioned, a little after 7 PM. I checked in, and the receptionist offered to
switch my room to the front of hotel so that I wouldn’t have to walk as
much. That was very convenient, and the
view was better, too, along with having the balcony. I would need to wear nice clothes for dinner,
but that was not for two hours, so I changed into my shorts and lit up a
Cohiba.
I headed to the Government
House, which is next to the hotel, and took a few ceremonial pictures
there. The Straw Market had actually
closed at 6 PM, but it would be open at 8 AM tomorrow morning. That’s island culture. They follow the schedule of the cruise
ships. Everyone is back on the ship by 6
PM, but they damn well better be open when people get off the ship the next
day.
I went back to my room, still with
plenty of cigar left, the Republican Debate starting at 8 PM. I watched a bit of the debate, surprised to
see new frontrunner Marco Rubio getting so torn apart. Whatever gains he made in Iowa seemed to have
disappeared tonight. It will all come
down to the New Hampshire primary on Tuesday.
We will know a lot more after that. I changed into my shirt and slacks and shoes and headed downstairs in
time for a 9:30 PM seating, the latest I could arrive. There was a cigar roller there, and a piano
lounge where you could smoke.
I planned
it all out. After dinner, I would go
there with some coffee and smoke a cigar before SNL began at 11:30 PM, and then
I would do my Christmas Pipe and entry afterwards. I got my local beer and ordered from the overpriced
menu, opting for conch chowder, local grouper, and mashed potatoes, along with
a guava duff that I would bring back to my room for dessert. I continued to watch the debate on my phone
during dinner, which killed my phone’s battery.
After dinner, I got the cigar from the roller, and awaited my coffee in
the lounge. I was in heaven. I was smoking a freshly rolled Graycliff cigar
at the Graycliff Inn. There was an older
couple sitting near me. The woman was
stunning. A 9, easily. I knew from the way the way they were talking
that they were in their 50s, but they looked much younger. We started talking a bit, and she tried to
take a picture of me with me phone, which was overly complicated by the fact
that my phone was now below 6%, and I had to use an alternate camera app.
She made a joke about “young people and your
fancy gadgets.” She guessed that I was
30. I said that I was 28. “What are you, 34?” It was exactly what she wanted to hear. “Bless your heart,” she said, adding that she
was old enough to be my mother. No
way. She said that she was 48. Her husband made it clear to me that she was
lying. I told her that she didn’t look
it. At 58, she was only three years
younger than my mother, so definitely old enough to be my mother. I wonder if she will go home and brag to her
friends that a 28-year-old couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. She took some photos of me with her phone and
took down my number so that she could text them to me when she got back to the
States.
My phone died after I sent my
ceremonial 11:11 Snap. I didn’t
care. There was no way I was leaving
this conversation, even if it meant missing the beginning of SNL. I had finished my coffee at this point and
had switched to a local rum, which was overly sweet. The cigar was amazing. We started talking about Hot Springs National
Park, which is in their home state of Arkansas.
I said, “I don’t understand how that’s a National Park. It’s just a bunch of bathhouses with some
grass behind it.” The husband almost
died. He said that that was the funniest
thing he ever heard. At 11:30 PM, they
went outside to wait for their taxi, and I raced up to my room to watch
SNL.
Now it was my turn to almost die.
With Larry David hosting and his doppelganger Bernie Sanders making a guest appearance,
it was one of the funniest episodes I had ever seen. Afterwards, I headed out to the balcony,
moved the chair to the end to get a good view of the Government House, and sat
down, where I lit up my 2010 Christmas Pipe and proceeded to write this entry,
which I will now close. Most people don’t
understand the way I travel. Their idea
of a trip to the Bahamas would have been the beach or going to one of the big
resorts like Atlantis. No, for me, this
is perfect. Even though it was
ostensibly about getting a stamp in my passport and a flag pin, tonight has
been one of the most memorable and enjoyable nights of my life.
No comments:
Post a Comment