Negril Notes

Sandals 2002 w/ Dolores

January 4, 2005

Part One – Getting There

Up until those days I ran restaurants, all kinds. Working in restaurants you meet a lot of cool people, many of whom are beautiful young women. Dating was frowned upon, but almost every boss was or had been married to a former waitress or bartender, including me. Anyway, this is how I met Dolores. We worked together for a short time.

Over the next few years we became very close. Our relationship is best defined as “significant others “, definitely “significant” and definitely “other”. My dream of being the one in her dreams didn’t work out, but to this day she remains one of my dearest friends.

In February of 2002 we went on vacation to Sandals Resort & Spa in Negril Jamaica, I wanted to go to a smaller cheaper place, but when you travel with a woman like Dolores you go first-class. Really, I didn’t care, I was finally getting back my Negril, this time with one of the most beautiful women in the world.

We got to Jamaica in late morning. As we walked off the plane I took a picture of her. She was squinting into the bright Jamaican morning, a dorky smile, no make-up and a zit on her chin. It’s one of my favorite pictures of her, her Jamaica debut.

Sangster International Airport, three Jamaican women in bright island dress greeted us singing “Welcome to Jamaica” to the tune of John Lennon’s “So This Is Christmas.” The old cinderblock building was hot, the air was thick and still. Dolores doesn’t sweat. Classy women never sweat, they mist, and after a few minutes of stifling Jamaican heat she was misting like a pig. To combat the heat she did that thing only a woman can do. She reached in her bag, pulled her arms out of her sleeves and wiggled around like Houdini in a straight jacket. Poof! She’s in a rainbow tube top. Amazing.

One of the good things about the all-inclusives is the lack of confusion at the airport. They come to find you. They did find us but, there was a glitch, we were informed, along with several other couples, that we would be bumped to Sandals Montego Bay for the first night. I snapped! Away went my cool, “I’m finally on vacation” attitude, and out came “Ballistic Asshole Man.”

As soon as I voiced my displeasure, I started feeling bad. Jamaica is no place for “Ballistic Asshole Man,” he’s for cable guy appointment mishaps between one and five, and dealing with the so called Microsoft “Customer Service Staff.”

We walked out to the Sandals bus. Still in the bump funk, I wandered over to a little refreshment stand and grabbed a few Red Stripes. It’s amazing how being the ugly American really ramps up one’s thirst. Then, in that “only in Jamaica” way, I took my first swig of cold glorious Red Stripe. As if by magic I was in on vacation. The changing of latitudes finally changed my attitude.

Lost in that moment, communing with that unnamed wonder that is Jamaica, I looked towards my beautiful wonderful Dolores. I wanted to share this feeling, to be ONE with her, both of us at ONE with this place! Our eyes met, she held my gaze, she opened the window, her brown eyes sparking and said, “AAAAAAAASSSSSHOLE, where’s my f**king beer!?”

Ahhh, you gotta love a girl from Jersey!!

The people at Sandals Mobay were way nice. They treated us like the King and Queen of Burundi. I figured they wanted just for us to be happy, good press and all. Maybe they were afraid to meet Ballistic Asshole Man in person, he’s scary! Either way they were great.

They placed us is a beautiful room, we had our own veranda right on a rocky section of the beach. It was three o’clock and we hit the beach right away. Sandals MoBay is beautiful, nicer even than the brochures. We loved it, until we realized how close we were to the airport. A series of airliners took off and landed right over our heads every twenty minutes, shaking the fillings out of our teeth.

We had a nice dinner and ran into our fellow bump-ees. There was an older married couple. They seemed to be in love, ya know, Mom and Dad love. It was sweet. The other couple, we got to calling them Ken and Barbie, were on their Honeymoon, they were perfect. He was tall, built and studly. She was the quintessential mid-west blonde homecoming queen, the uber-perky type who hates being referred to as perky. They were scary.

We retired to our private veranda, raided the mini-bar, sat quietly, and let the endless Caribbean Ocean gently hypnotize us.

We were all to meet up in the lobby at 9AM for the trip to Negril. Dolores and I were so happy and relaxed we almost danced to the mini-bus.

Our compatriots on the other hand, seemed haggard, they trudged their bags into the lobby. They hated this place! We couldn’t believe it. It seems the non-ballistic people got stuck in tiny rooms right next to the DJ booth! Thumpa-Thumpa-Thumpa all night long! They were pissed!

We listened to them spleen-vent half way to Negril, blah blah blah. Not being able to take it anymore Dolores and I started telling our story. How we yelled and screamed and then got treated like gold. how we got a great room on the outskirts of the property and, and, and. . .

By the time we reached Sandals Negril they were fit to be tied. Dolores and I got out first as the remaining two women schemed their attack. Ballistic Asshole Man did make sure his upgrade in Negril was worked out before he left the scene, and thus we were taken to our great digs right on the beach while Married and Perky attacked the poor defenseless Assistant Manager.

Finally we were in Negril, twenty hours late, but with a double upgrade! The vacation was actually looking to be worth the money I’d spent.

- To Be Continued

Vinny