Day 1 – One Suitcase for Clothes, Two for Alcohol

I should probably take this opportunity to reintroduce this year’s castaways.  Tres and Julia are with  us again, which is good considering Julia did all the planning for the trip. We would have ended up in a tiki hut with a port-a-potty and no refrigeration for beer if I’d been in charge, which is why I’m not. Tres, well I’m not sure exactly what his role is, but if any of us has an island vibe it’s him.  I’ve owned recliners that aren’t as laid back.  Dave and Gina are back again, each providing essential talents.  Gina is our own personal Martha Stewart.  Her suitcase is somehow magically bottomless.  Whatever you need, she’s got it…sunscreen, a hat, 30 lbs. of tenderloin (no kidding), a Jet ski, no problem.  And without Dave we would never get to drink.  No one breaks the alcohol barrier until Dave K has his first Bloody Mary in hand.  It’s a rule.  This is the third year for Eddie and Denise.  By the end of the trip, Eddie will have filled up at least ten 32G SD cards, which will each hold approximately 10,000 pictures.  You do the math.  I might look good in one of them.  Denise is a riot.  She is one of the few people I know who can match my level of sarcasm, which means she has a black belt.  Dave and Judy are our only non-Turks-virgins.  Having been there before, Dave S will be our own Frommer’s travel guide, but better. Judy is funny in her own right and will help us get on island time because that’s her normal time. Then there’s Joe and I.  Enough said.

In case I’ve already pissed off a traveling companion, or a reader, I should probably take this opportunity to give you my blog guidelines.  First, I love all these people.  Anything I say is in the spirit of fun…and might be slightly exaggerated.  That’s called artistic license, which is a real thing.  You can look it up.  And it pretty much gives me free reign to say most anything, which brings me to my second point.  I apologize.  I figured I might as well get that out of the way. My humor and language can be crude at times, so if you’re easily offended, quit reading right now.  If you’re still here, I’m pretty sure it’s legally binding that you agree not to get your panties in a wad at anything I might write. Now that my attorney/nephew is satisfied, I can get on with our trip.  <Joe says he doesn’t think I need the disclaimer. I told him it was mostly for my readers. He said, “Don’t they know you at all?”  Good point.>

We all met bright and early this morning at DFW Airport.  Over breakfast Dave K got us started right with a bloody Mary, which was a good thing because it reminded us that we needed to get ourselves to the duty free shop to buy a cart load of alcohol before departure. I have included a picture of our actual cart.  I’m not sure that’s enough to last the week, but fortunately we have rum waiting for us in Turks.  As it turned out, we had to pay customs coming into Turks for excess alcohol.  I don’t know whether to take that as a bad sign or a good one.  The jury is still out.

Our plane left right on time, which can only mean one thing…American is having an off day.  This brings me to traveling first class. Yeah, if you ever have the opportunity to ride up front, do that.  Not only do they bring your nuts to you hot in a crystal dish, but you even get cashews and almonds in the mix.  Plus we got a full meal…and free drinks…and the stewardess fixed me fresh brewed ice tea…and the very best thing about first class, fresh baked chocolate chip cookies, which must drive the people in coach crazy. Our upgrade to first class is still not confirmed for the return flight and if we don’t get it, I’m gonna be bummed, but the rest of the group would probably get a chuckle out of it.

I see pictures from our previous trips all the time, but every year I forget how beautiful the water of the Carribean is until we’re flying over it. Villa Paprika is gorgeous.  There’s not a bad room in the house, all with great views.  I’ll be posting some additional pictures for your viewing pleasure once I’ve got daylight.

After dinner, a trip to the grocery store was called for.  Apparently, $200 worth of mixers and beer were also called for.  Beer is $48/case here, in case you’re wondering.  Of course, a jug of OJ is $11…but you do have a great view while you drink your screwdriver.  I think Turks & Caicos is one of those places that proves the adage “if you have to ask, you can’t afford it.”  

As I finish up, we are sitting poolside. Our bellies are full, drinks have been poured, cigars have been smoked, lies have been told and I’ve run out of funny.  Stay tuned for tomorrow’s adventures.

 

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Say Hello to My Little Friend

Meet my friend Ben.  Ben is very well traveled for a bottle of topical analgesic.  He came home with me last year from the Bahamas after valiantly waging battle against the nastiest of all insects, no-see-ums.  Oh, the no-see-ums won handily, but I brought Ben home with me in spite of our crushing defeat and the 100+ bites on my legs and feet.

Julia has run recon for us and supposedly there is not a problem with no-see-ums on Turks & Caicos, but tiny mosquitoes are another thing.  So, Ben will be flying to the Caribbean with me on Saturday…along with Woody, my new friend, who happens to be a can of Deep Woods Off.  I can tell you from experience, if you need them they are worth their weight in gold.

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4th Annual Let’s-See-If-We-Can-Get-Kicked-Off-Another-Island Tour & Beer Fest

Well, what do you know, April 15th has rolled around again, which can only mean one thing…yes, it’s time to pay your *%$#@(*#  taxes, but more importantly it’s time for a trip to the islands!  Joe and I are part of a group of five couples that trek to some remote island paradise once tax season is in the record books. This means that Joe starts out the week in an almost comatose zombie-like state after having worked approximately 170 hours per week for several weeks immediately prior to departure.  By the time we head home, he’s got a nice island buzz going, which is usually killed immediately upon walking back into the office, but that’s a discussion for another time.

While Joe has been working diligently getting everyone’s extensions filed, I have spent the past week on a mission that strikes fear into the hearts of womankind the world over…swimsuit shopping.  I have discovered that you are pretty much SOL unless you are (a) under 25, (b) under 110 pounds or (c) are flat chested, i.e. have no boobs that need wrangling.  It doesn’t seem fair that while men’s swimsuits have grown to the point they could literally be called capris, women’s suits have shrunk to the size of a napkin…a cocktail napkin.  So far, I have bought one and ordered another, at a cost that rivaled that of my wedding dress back in October.  I shit you not.  And I still don’t look like Kate Upton or even her mother.  I do however bear a striking resemblance to the Pillsbury Doughboy in spandex, or a half opened can of biscuits.  Either way, it’s not a good look. Apparently I need a bigger miracle than the “Miracle Suit” can pull off.

Our fearless travel guru, Julia, has once again outdone herself finding us a great destination and a great house.  It is a difficult job and one I don’t want anywhere near, but somehow every year she manages to  take us up a notch.  We are beyond spoiled having her plan it all for us.  We really ought to give her a break next year and let someone else do the work, but frankly, we just aren’t all that considerate.  Luckily, she loves us anyway…or maybe it’s just that she doesn’t trust any of us to come up with a place that has running water and functioning toilets.  Our past destinations have included Virgin Gorda, Tortola and Eluthera.  It’s not that we can’t go back to any of those places, but why chance it?

We leave on Saturday bound this year for Turks & Caicos and will be staying at Villa Paprika, which is on the beach, boasts a gorgeous pool and five, yes five, master suites.  Two of them even have two king-size beds.  I figure that’s perfect for the couples that think they might not like each other much by the end of the week. Turks is also a direct flight from Dallas and the house a five minute ride after landing.  I must confess that I won’t miss our usual stops in Miami or San Juan.  I can’t wait to get there and into my dreaded swimsuit.

In conclusion, I thought I would take this opportunity to remind my traveling buddies of “the rules.”  We came up with these the first year and they still apply.  They are for your own protection, so no grumbling.

Rule #1 – Cursing is not only allowed, it is required. There are only a couple of words that would earn you gasps and dirty looks…and don’t pretend you don’t know what they are. “Gosh”, “darn” and “shoot” will not be acceptable and might get you bitch slapped, Tres.

 

Rule #2 – Drinking alcohol is not only allowed, it is required, however, you may only drink as long as you can stay conscious.  Drinking many different types of alcohol in the same day is encouraged.

 

Rule #3 – Smoking cigars is acceptable…anything else and ‘I’ve never seen him before in my life, officer.’

 

Rule #3a – Under no circumstances can any female smoking a cigar be photographed…good grief, our kids could see that.

 

Rule #4 – Men will not be required to wear a man-thong but will get extra attention and favors from the ladies if they are so inclined. (I just threw that one in there for myself.)

 

Rule #5 – We must do all in our power to have a good time and to come back to Texas as friends. If this is not possible, you are responsible for burying the bodies on your own.

 

Rule #6 – Invitations to Poundtown must be made discretely so as not to offend those who may not get to town very often.

 

Rule #7 – Music from The Midnight Special will be limited to no more than four hours a day.  Anything by the Bee Gees will get your iPod privileges revoked.

 

Rule #8 – The Internet will work at all times, otherwise, your friendly blogger becomes very, VERY surly.

 

Rule #9 – Gratuities will be accepted, even expected, by the aforementioned blogger.  If you need an incentive, remember that I can paint you in any light I wish.

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