Bonjour from San Salvador, the island in the Bahamas where Christopher Columbus made his first foot prints in the western hemisphere, where day drinkers are already desecrating the sacred land by asking where all the drug lords are , assuming we're in El Salvador.
(When we were first here in 1994, our neighbor in the brightly colored room next door almost wound up in El Salvador--true story!)
And I'm giggling like the emotionally stunted eleven year old I am, realizing that we are in a place called Cockburn, and c'mon..don't lie and say you're not thinking of lazy nudists too!
We usually celebrate our anniversary in November..because that's when it actually IS..but Jim gets all the attention because his birthday is six days later, and I get so jealous, like I do when the photos of his flounder sandwiches get more Facebook likes than my ridiculous blog. So we've compromised..celebrating a month after his birthday and a month before mine.
True confession: I basically booked in December to give my DVR a break. Everything is a rerun, except "The White Lotus", which..this place is basically like.
There's still a language barrier, 'though not as pronounced as when we were here in 2014. Who could forget the lovely receptionist who would not let me order a cake for "Jim" Amster, because her computer showed that only a "James" Amster was staying here? I tried to tell her the difference between a passport and a cake to no avail--his cake came out reading "Happy Birthday Jam"
I am so grateful that my better half treasures these getaways and these snarky blogs as much as I do.
"Come and listen to a story about a man named Jim..successful engineer who don't care that I ain't slim...and while I'm a-bloggin'..he is searching for some food(more on that later) and happy that he's wed to someone bubbly and crude. (Me that is..extrovert..potty mouth)
We spent One Night in Miami, but unlike the film with the same name, we had no deep conversations with Jim Brown and Muhammed Ali and Malcolm X and Sam Cooke.
We basically had glorified seats at the gate(more on that later )and flew in a day early to avoid a long layover. (Much more on that later)
We spent over $100.00 to stay in a kinda sleazy airport hotel, where we were greeted by a fat dancing Santa..(and wondering why he hadn't slimmed down from all that shimmying) and an air conditioner that made noises like it was deliberately breaking the sound barrier. We ate undercooked pizza that we waited ninety minutes for and watched an old rerun of "Friends"..realizing why Courteney Cox never got an Emmy nod for playing Monica(more on THAT later) even 'though we liked her in "Cougartown."
We tolerated mushy pillows and damp carpeting in the hall. We showered with soap that was the texture and size of a macadamia nut.
I did the Wordle at 4:00 AM, unable to sleep, knowing we'd have an 8:30 AM shuttle that would get us to the airport in plenty of time for our 11:00 AM flight.
And I did all of this..bathed in something that wouldn't have cleaned a Barbie doll(and yes, I had several full bars in my suitcase--but that suitcase was going to remain untouched until I was settled into my vacation location) because I was not going to overpack a carry on for an hour or two layover.
Which turned into a five hour layover.
I was so convinced this would be such a seamless jaunt that I paid no attention when I packed my carry on, meaning I wore a lavender sleeveless shirt that looked like it was splattered with purple blood droplets, olive green lycra capris that I thought were charcoal grey(HA!) and would look OK on any body type(Double HA!) and a pink Yankees cap that flattened my bangs because I misplaced my hairclips, and thought of nothing but where they could be for the next eight hours.
I'm all about comfort--not making fashion statements even 'though my wardrobe stated that I was a raving lunatic that everyone on the chartered flight would avoid the entire week we're here.
But they didn't ignore me..they couldn't ignore me..because we were all stuck in that terminal for what seemed like a week. Even that sexy pat down from the TSA agent wasn't brightening my mood. (Maybe 'cause she took a whiff of my Skechers that should have been tossed ages ago, the ones where the insoles are so old that they come out fighting like filthy pink tongues)
Because we were all stuck in the same situation, we all kind of bonded..small talk of course, but the interesting kind. We met Bruce and Pam from San Francisco, and he's probably in his early 80's but looks like he's in his 60's, where we(aka "I") am in my sixties and look like I'm in my 80's. Turns out Pam is a writer and a blogger and Bruce went to the same High School as Jim, and he also felt Club Med's famous "45" shirts have been damaged for life, but we avoided talking politics. They were traveling with two other fun couples, and I don't know whether this was the doing the Wordle at 4:00 AM fatigue or eating nothing but a half of a bagel while being stranded at the gate..hungry, tired, dirty--I decided our weary group needed to play some ice-breaking games.
It's clear nobody wanted to, exactly, but they saw the wrath in my Karen eyes. There's no way they could have known I just watched an episode of "Friends" the night before, but I got all Monica Geller on them, forcing them to play "Heads Up" on Jim's phone which now has the Covid germs of everyone in the Miami International Airport on it.
It was fun..there were laughs..LOTS of them..and we got here after a fifty minute jaunt and a five minute shuttle ride..only to discover there was no food.
So we did what every irrational starving person would do..we walked through the darkened paths that were recently sprayed for bugs, breathed in toxic air, and went for a night swim.
And bought a hair clip.
We are ravished by the time we got to the buffet--culinary magic that Club Med is known for..and..and..
Well..where was the effin' food??
We thought we were in an app store(that these were just appetizers..that the REAL choices would be in a non-existent part of the dining area)
Jim, of course, made the best of it and had some healthy alternatives that were designed for vegans and seafood or fish lovers.
There wasn't a meat or potato dish in site to nourish my gluttonous soul, so besides that half bagel, I ate the only thing that looked even a little appealing: creamed spinach and whipped sweet potatoes, so I basically turned into the Gerber baby tonight who was finally green lighted to eat pureed baby food from a jar.
It'll get better as the week progresses..I know that. We've got a gorgeous room with an ocean view and an exciting day planned for tomorrow,
But yeah, I have to now digest the kind of dinner most people have three weeks after major surgery.
And guess what idiot ordered "BUBBLEGUM" flavored gelato??
There is no reasoning with me.
Don't even try
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