2/7/16,
“Back for the Super Bowl”
Lynden
Pindling International Airport, The Bahamas
They say of
the West Indies, you’ve seen one island, you’ve seen them all, but I want to
see all of them. I only have one island
left to visit: Hispaniola. While each
island is more similar than different, the theme of this Travelogue is finding
the familiar within the unfamiliar and experiencing the unfamiliar within the
familiar. Each island provides its own
unique experience.
I probably should
have called this trip “Graycliff: The Experience.” Everything about my time in The Bahamas,
since I landed here 20 hours agos, has been centered around the Graycliff. I stayed at the Graycliff Hotel, ate all my
meals there, smoked mostly Graycliff cigars, drank Graycliff coffee, and bought
a bunch of consumable Graycliff products to take home. It is fitting that I now await my flight back
to the States in the Graycliff cigar lounge at LPIA.
My foot is better, I said “The Bahamas
Complete,” I got all the souvenirs I wanted to get, and I have plenty of time
to smoke one last Graycliff cigar before I fly back for the Super Bowl. All is well.
After I closed last night, I crashed almost immediately, waking up six
hours later to head down to breakfast. I
opted for grits, of course, their breakfast staple, along with eggs benedict
with a spicy lobster sauce, which I knew would be a mistake, and coffee. The meal was delicious, but I knew I would
soon pay the price for the eggs benedict.
I just hoped that I could say, “The Bahamas Complete” before I had to pay that price. I used my chopsticks, having
forgotten to do so last night, and it was certainly a unique experience eating
grits with chopsticks.
After breakfast,
I went across the street to the Graycliff shop to get cigars, chocolate, and
coffee. I lit up a red band cigar, the
original, and headed to the Straw Market.
They did not have flag pins there, but they had everything else. I got my souvenirs and continued to walk
around Bay Street, the main souvenir street.
I found flag pins before long. It
was almost time to pay the price for the eggs benedict. I was not sure how much longer I could hold
out.
Parliament was two blocks away, so
I headed there and took some ceremonial pictures. I announced, “Bahamas, no, THE Bahamas
Complete. [An unprintable comment about
the eggs benedict.]” It was about 5
minutes back to the hotel. I was not
sure I could wait that long. As I was
walking, I saw the perfect ashtray in the window of a shop. I went into the shop, but I was told I could
not come in with my cigar. I told her
what I wanted and gave her the cash. She
wrapped it for me and brought me back my change. That took about 5 minutes. It was 5 minutes I did not have, not in an
addition to the 5 minutes it took to walk back to the hotel. Suffice it to say, I should have ordered the
French toast, no eggs.
I packed, such as
it was, checked out, and got a taxi back to the hotel, arriving at the airport
with over two hours before my flight. I
figured, an hour for security and border control, an hour for my cigar, and I
get to the gate half an hour before my flight.
Check-in and security was a breeze.
I went to the Global Entry kiosk, did my declaration there, and then
went to cross the border. Wait,
something was up. They were interviewing
everyone, even the Global Entry users. I
never have to do that.
When it was my
turn, he flipped through my passport, asked me if the few bags I had were my
only luggage, saw my Iranian visa, and told me I had been selected for a random
screening. Random screening my arse, I
fit a profile. Any agent who did not
select me for a secondary should have been fired. Travelling for alone, one night, almost no
luggage, a full passport with an Iranian visa, that’s as suspicious af. The screening was courteous and efficient,
and they made no mention of the three Cuban cigars I had in my bag, which I
honestly claimed were from Mexico, other than saying I like to smoke a lot of cigars.
I got some rum and headed to the Graycliff
lounge with over an hour before boarding.
I picked out a purple label cigar and sat in the corner of the lounge,
where I lit up my cigar and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now
close so that I can have some lunch before my flight.
West Palm
Beach, Florida
A chill wind
blows from the Intercoastal over West Palm Beach, and the sun begins to set,
with less than hour until kick-off for Super Bowl 50. Not Super Bowl L, Super Bowl 50. I am fitting in one last smoke for the day,
my 2011 Christmas Pipe, though West Palm pales in comparison to the capital
cities where I have previously smoked this pipe, such as Quebec, Vienna, and
Hong Kong. There is not much to report,
but I would be remiss if I didn’t do a closing entry tonight, and I will not
have enough time to write and smoke after the Super Bowl, not to mention the
frigid wind will only be worse past dark.
After I closed, I got a roast beef sandwich, along with chips and Diet
Coke. It was small but filling. We would be getting Papa John’s for
dinner. The flight was entirely
unadventurous, and my parents were waiting for me at FLL. We picked up pizza and sides at Papa John’s
and headed back to the condo, where I changed into my pajamas. I filled up my 2011 Christmas Pipe and lit up
inside, unable to do so outside because of the wind. I went outside once my pipe was lit and sat
down, where I proceeded to write this entry. I won’t close quite yet, as I still have time left on my pipe, but I
will pause to get some warmer clothes.
I
have written enough about island culture, about how much I enjoy travelling to
the islands while avoiding the beaches and resorts. Why then is Florida so different? Why does Key West not exhibit the same island
culture? I can only imagine that it a
matter of money. The US, even Florida,
is much wealthier than the islands, even Puerto Rico. The quaintness that I so adore about the
islands is a result of poverty. It is a
result of the adaptations they have had to make to live in a hot climate with
not a lot of money. The brightly colored
buildings are a result of not being to properly afford modern cooling. Other examples of that are abundant. My next trip to the islands will take me to
Haiti, which is the poorest country in North America, and I fear that it will
be more depressing than quaint. On that
note, I close.
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