We recently returned from a lovely week on the island of Curacao
(a Caribbean island off the coast of Venezuela). It was a wonderful trip, with lots of
together time and memories that I will carry with me for years to come. While most of those memories are really
great, the memory that made the biggest impression and will most definitely stick with me the longest is that of a
60-something year old woman named Gladys* yelling “F*&(# NO!” in my ear.
*I don’t actually know her real name, but Gladys feels
right, so I’m just going to go with it.
I didn’t know much about Curacao prior to our trip - just
that you can sit on a beach wearing a bathing suit in March and that it’s a lot
like (but isn’t) the place where Natalie Holloway disappeared.
Since 12 years of experience traveling as a couple has taught us that we
can realistically only spend so many full days at a resort, in the weeks before
the trip I started looking at possible excursions. There are lots of good options, but one that
kept coming up was a catamaran day trip to Klein Island.
Website after website had glowing reviews about and
beautiful pictures of this excursion (I mean…people LOVED it).
Done!
Booked!
Ok…yes…there was this one comment (deep into one of the
reviews) about seasickness and a particularly bad ride. Whatever, that’s what
Dramamine is for. It was going to be great. Actually, it was going to be “Epic” (which was
actually the title of one of the reviews
– I mean, how can you go wrong with epic?)
The day of the excursion arrived and we got ourselves to the
meeting point (a cute little bar called the Pirate’s Nest) at
zero-dark-thirty (actually, 9 am…which is zero-dark-thirty in vacation
terms).
Going in, I had some fears that it might be more of a party
boat situation and that, being in our early 40s, we would be 10,000+ years older than everyone
else there. Those fears seemed to be confirmed when immediately ahead of us in
line was a bachelorette party of around 7 early 20-something girls with
matching shirts that said “Mer-maids” (except for one girl whose shirt said
“Mer-bride”- get it?…mer-maids…mer-bride…cuz it’s a bachelorette weekend in the
Carribbean).
The girls said “like” a lot (like….a LOT) and were talking
(loudly and all at once) about, you know, early 20-something stuff.
They were very sweet, but dear lord it was too early and
this was going to be a LONG day.
Then magic happened.
The bachelorette party got to the front of the line and it was
discovered that their Klein Island trip was on a boat-boat (as compared to a
catamaran) and that the line for that trip was just down the road at another
bar.
As the bachelorettes booked it down the street to meet their
boat, the clouds parted (metaphorically, as there are no clouds in the
Carribbean) and I looked around to find a very balanced group of tourists. We actually were not the oldest at all. In fact, there was at least one couple in
their 60s…
enter Gladys and Tom.
After signing waivers releasing the tour company from any
responsibility with regards to our lives,
everyone boarded the boat and the crew introduced themselves. The main crew guy (chief stew? bosun?...those are the only boat positions I
remember from “Below Deck”), went over a couple of rules:
1) Sit in the wind (preferably up front) to avoid sea
sickness.
2) If you have to puke, do so over the side of the boat (and
make sure nobody is directly downwind)
While the “kids” all moved back to the bar area, we grabbed
prime spots on the net in the front. My
plan was lie down, take an 1 hour 40 minute nap in the sun (oh yeah….have I
mentioned the boat ride is 1 hour and 40 minutes?), and wake up when we arrived
at Klein (ace plan: avoid sea sickness by sleeping through it).
Gladys and Tom also stuck to the front. As the catamaran took off, Tom was taking
glamour shots of Gladys on the net.
The first 3 minutes of the trip were beautiful, as the
catamaran worked it’s way through the calm waters towards the open water of the
Caribbean. Seriously, why did I even bother with the Dramamine?
Then we hit open water, and the chief stew/bosun/announcement
guy came to the front and told us that we should actually probably not sit on
the the net and would be better off sitting in a line with our backs to the
front windows of the boat.
Oh, and maybe linking arms.
He immediately returned to the back (probably should have
taken note of the fact that the profession was NOT staying up front) and all hell proceeded to break loose.
First it was just rough water, but soon it became bobbing,
then crazy bobbing, then VIOLENT bobbing and then the boat rising up and
crashing down hard with every wave....and feeling like it maybe...could potentially...break in half.
After a bit of that, we also started getting pummeled with
water (a similar concept to water boarding).
It just got worse from there.
The seating arrangement was Tom on the end, Gladys, me,
Dave, a cheerful Dutch couple, and a few other people to their right.
At first we were just sitting up against the glass, but as
things started to go south (literally…well, technically SE) we took the crew's advice and all linked arms
to stay on the boat. As conditions got
worse and worse, we all started holding tighter and tighter.
Now this is where you say, “But Faith, why didn’t you all
just move to the back?”
Excellent question. Gladys and Tom were having the same conversation.
In fact, let me just give you a condensed
dramatic interpretation of what I heard from Gladys and Tom (NONTSTOP) for 1
hour and 23 minutes (approximately):
I don’t like this.
I don’t like this either.
It’s so rough.
Oh my god, it’s another wave.
Hold on.
I don’t like this.
This is not what I expected.
Not in the brochure.
I am definitely going complain.
Why did we sit up here?
I don’t know.
Can we go back?
I can’t even stand up.
I’m going to the back.
No, Tom, you will die if you stand up.
I don’t think we..oh god another wave.
This is awful
This is dangerous
This is not what I signed up for
Oh my GOD!
Why did you make me sit up here.
I’m sorry, it’s my fault.
We should have picked another trip.
AHHHHHH!
I want off.
I want off NOW.
Get the captain.
I can’t.
Tom, get me off NOW.
I can’t control that Gladys.
Whose idea was this?
I hate this.
AHHHHHH!
Meanwhile, I am plastered up against the glass, wedged
tightly between Gladys and Dave, with my eyes and mouth closed tightly to avoid any combination of
getting sick/getting pummeled with water/flying off the boat and into the
sea.
On the other side of Dave, nothing but laughter, as the
Dutch couple was thoroughly enjoying Gladys and Tom's conversation.
Tom, make this stop.
I can’t make this stop, but we should be in the back.
I know I’M SORRY. It’s my fault. I’m sorry forever.
We’re halfway there (*this was actually VERY useful
information, so thanks to Tom for that).
Never again.
No, never.
I hate this.
I know.
OH GOD another one!
AHHHHHH!
We’re going to die.
I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.
We’re going overboard.
Somebody is going overboard.
Make this stop.
I WAS TOLD THERE WOULD BE DOLPHINS!!!!!*
I can’t.
Oh no. here comes a big one.
F*&(# NO!
*As previously stated, this section is mostly a condensed
dramatic interpretation….but this dolphin quote is 100%, cross my heart and
hope to die accurate.
At this point, the Dutch couple decided that, while they
found the entire situation highly entertaining, they couldn’t in good conscience allow
Gladys and Tom’s nightmare to continue.
They managed to flag down one of the crew members through
the window and somehow relayed the message to cut the motor and come to the
front.
Then, the crew members helped all of us (Gladys and Tom being the highest priority) scoot on our butts to safety (and the bar) in the back.
Incidentally, the people in the back were having a
COMPLETELY different experience, and watched with confusion as those of us from the front made our way
back (looking wet, exhausted and just overall rough).
They had no idea what we had been through, but we (the
survivors – well, Gladys, Tom, and myself) shared knowing glances for the final
20 minutes of the ride.
We knew what we
had experienced…what we had seen (which was, incidentally, not a single dolphin).
½ hour later, as I sat on the beautiful sands of solid
ground, a larger, sturdier, non-catamaran, boat pulled up, and my mind drifted
to the ride to Klein that might have been (a calm, non-threatening, blissful,
indoor 1 hr 40 min ride), until my daydream was interrupted by a very loud “OMG
– this is like gorgeous!!!” as the Mer-maids disembarked from what I thought to
be my dream boat.
Comments
Post a Comment