Find Me In Jamaica #1

15 June 2002

So there we were at 6 a.m. with bells on at JFK. I had resigned from my family business, left my husband and dogs for a week away to 'find myself again' and the first thing I hear is that the flight would be BOARDING at NOON? Here lies the challenge. What do you do in an airport for six hours when nothing is open? The airport bar isn't open yet, and the duty free shop is closed. The only vendor open is serving microwaved breakfast sandwiches and really bad coffee. So, we indulged.

And then we started to wait.

And wait.

And WAIT.

After looking at the clock over twenty times in forty minutes, we decided to take a walking tour of the airport to see what else was going on. In the other terminal, we found a Starbucks. And it was OPEN! Jackpot! My cappuccino was tasty, and kept me awake for about another thirty minutes, and then the monotony of waiting began to take its toll on me.

David and I sat chatting for a while, about life, lost love, and the Jamaican Tourist Board. Our itinerary had not been delivered before our departure, so we weren't sure that a driver would be there upon our arrival even if the plane had been on time. Now, with the delay, we were definitely unsure of our transport to Jake's on the South Coast.

As the time ticks away, we realize we only have about two more hours to wait. So now what? Is it time to eat again? Bar still closed. The same breakfast place is still the only place open, except Starbucks. I get a Frappuccino, and we head over to the bad breakfast place and David gets some really bad chicken nuggets.

As I sneak some of his french fries, I overhear a group of women next to us chattering away, laughing, taking pictures, and acting very lively. When I return from spying on the Jamaica Air check-in staff to see if I could overhear any news about the flight, David announces, "They were called." Apparently, Jamaican Airlines had called these passengers the night before to let them know that the flight had been delayed. They got six extra hours sleep. No wonder they were so chipper. Somehow, David and I were overlooked during that process, even though we booked our flights separately and through different channels. That really sucks. Why didn't I call the airlines to confirm the departure time? I never do.

The night before had been a complete whirlwind for me. I had planned on going to an early client dinner with my husband, be home by ten, pack and go to bed early. Well, the clients were in New York for the first time and away from their children, and wanted to have an all night party. I didn't get home until after one o'clock in the morning, and didn't go to sleep until after three. My sister was also at the dinner and came home early with me to "help" me pack. She was staying with me at the time and was throwing things into my bag right and left. "This is a fabulous skirt, oh; you can't go without this skirt." Needless to say, I was barely surviving on a few hours sleep and had a suitcase I could barely get shut filled with random pieces of clothing with no matching outfits and about six pairs of shoes.

Noon

No boarding calls, no gate attendant, no nothing. I knew it. I hope they don't cancel the flight. But wait, in my moment of pessimism a parade of flight crew members walk out before me in their brightly colored shirts and scarves, and before I know it we are boarding, and stewards are handing out champagne. They don't waste any time on Air Jamaica. What the hell? Champagne sounds good, and it is afternoon. This leads to several Bloody Marys and a new friend in our steward from Montego Bay. I laughed the whole time, and it turned out to be the best flight I've ever taken.

Montego Bay

Local road hazards

We walked off the plane into the hot air and onto the tarmac. We made it! While looking around to see where we should go next, we hear David's name being called over the loudspeakers. The driver had left a message for us, and he was waiting outside. Thank goodness. I was still feeling good from the Absolut Bloody Mary fest on the plane, and didn't feel like having to concentrate too hard on finding my way about.

Troy picked us up in his minivan to take us to Jake's on the South Coast. It's about a two hour drive. If you've never been driven in Jamaica, it is quite the experience. A once-British colony, Jamaicans drive on the left. Very few roads are recently paved, and they are full of potholes. Not to mention the animals. Cows and goats are all over the place, and frequently on the road. This makes a very interesting car ride.

So not to lose my Bloody Mary buzz, I asked Troy if he could stop for snacks. We picked up some Red Stripe and a can of cashews for the ride. What we really wanted was "Jerk". Troy told us he knew a place to get "Escavitch". I had no idea what he was talking about, but all of the sudden the van was surrounded by locals showing off their 'catch'. Escavitch is steamed spiced fish, traditionally served with Bamee pancakes. The fish came hot and steaming. I opened the foil and popped what looked like a roasted red pepper into my mouth. HHHAAAAAAAHHH! No. It was a Scotch Bonnet pepper which is extremely spicy. As my eyes began to tear, I encouraged David, "Oh, try the peppers, they're wonderful!" He didn't buy it for a minute. My face was completely red and my face wet from the tears. The fish tasted bland to me after that. David and Troy kept saying how spicy the fish was. "That's nothing!" I said. "Try the peppers!" Troy kept telling me to eat the Bamee pancakes because they're meant to take away the spice, but my tongue was completely numb by then, and all I could do was wash it down with some Red Stripe.

Resting on Arrival at Jake's

By the time we got to Jake's, it was dark and you couldn't see anything. We were lead to our room through a small path in the trees. The room was fabulous: Rustic yet chic with a backyard and two lounge chairs. Finally, we made it. "Too bad we have to leave tomorrow morning," David said. David was hungry and we went to the restaurant for some Jerk chicken. It was so good that David ordered a second helping, and I started to feel relaxed.

After dinner we walked over to the beach, put our feet in the surf and stared up at the stars. The reflection of the moonlight on the surf was so beautiful, it was almost hypnotizing. I felt in such a state, I could barely make it back to the room and fall into bed. The eighteen hours of travel had caught up with me, and I was exhausted. Not to mention the effects of a glass of champagne, four Bloody Marys, two Red Stripes and a Rum Punch. (OOPS! Did I forget to mention the Rum Punch? We had one of those at Jake's with dinner.)

Jake's Bar in the dark

I awoke to little lizard doing a ritualistic mating dance on the wall, and David's "light snoring". He had told me he was a light snorer, but I was afraid I would keep him awake with my own snoring, so I didn't say anything. However, I couldn't sleep and was still tired, so I went out on the patio to try napping on the lounge chair to get some extra zzzzz's. Not much later, the heat of the sun woke me and I had a killer headache (I wonder why??). I couldn't sleep anymore, so I began documenting the day.