Scarlott Letters

Just some stuff I find funny…

A 12-hour tour, a 12-hour tour…

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My mother posted that the windchill in Wichita Falls was 39 degrees yesterday morning. All I can say is it sucks to be you. It was a beautiful day for sailing, so that’s just what we did. Ray and Brenda picked us up in his catamaran and we headed out on the turquoise waters of the Caribbean. 

  I think this is the first time in my long life that I didn’t wear clothes all day. I should clarify before your mind goes too far astray, ’cause really who wants that image in their head, I was wearing a bathing suit. I think it’s a rule if you’re on a boat, whether you can swim or not. Our first stop was Cooper Island where I had the two best painkillers ever. I now have a gold standard to measure all others against. It’s a very high bar. Snorkeling, savory conch fritters and creamy painkillers. It might be my new favorite place.

  Next up was Saba Rock at the Bitter End of Virgin Gorda. It was a long trip from Cooper Island but luckily we made it in time for happy hour…although, really every hour on the boat is happy hour. On the way in we passed a huge yacht, with a shiny black helicopter on the upper deck and a boat, bigger than the one we were on, on the second deck. As we sipped our painkillers, the owner of the bar came over to chat. He said the yacht belonged to John Travolta and said he would probably be walking through the bar in a few minutes. No way were we leaving our seats.

Sure enough, the man himself came strolling through. We immediately began singing the theme song from Grease, which naturally caught his attention, so he and his bodyguard asked to join us. Turns out Trav, as he asked us to call him, likes painkillers. After a few, he invited us out to the yacht. Turns out he was having a party with about 50 people later in the evening, including George Clooney, Ryan Gossling, and oddly enough Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Can you believe our luck? Well, you shouldn’t because this whole paragraph just happened in my vivid imagination and my Google research confirmed that it’s not even Travolta’s yacht. 

 Our house is on the top of a mountain. The marina at Sopher’s Hole where Ray was picked us up, is not car friendly. So, our ever problem-solving fearless leader, Julia, thought we should just walk down to the marina. It’s not that far, probably no more than 3/4 of a mile, but I swear the road is at a 90 degree grade. It is so steep that going down (unless you fall and just roll to the bottom) requires almost as much effort as going back up. And it was going back up at the end of the day that almost did us in. Ten middle aged people, sunburned, with sea legs after hours on the water, and possibly, no definitely buzzed made for quite a picture. It would have been funny if I could have caught my breath enough to laugh.

You might be thinking that a boat trip with only two stops is not a big deal, but everything is spread out. We were gone twelve hours. It was a long day but full of fun, Bloody Marys to painkillers to champagne, the most beautiful water anywhere in the world, an awe-inspiring sunset, and most importantly, the laughter of old friends and new. Thank you Ray and Brenda and the Pirate Girls for a wonderful day and lasting memory! 

 

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