Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Jamaica Me Even More Crazy!

Fran and I have been trying to figure out what causes the magical feeling that washes over you when you arrive in Jamaica. What makes it so special, so... "ire"? The Jamaican people are definitely a huge part of it. Everyone is so laid back and happy that you'd swear they were born in a recliner. I guess when you mix sun, Rum, Reggae, Red Stripe and Ganja... who WOULDN'T be "ire", right?!

After getting through customs we found the Couples Welcome Office easily enough. Before we made it to the wide, cherry wood doors a friendly Couples staffer walked up and grabbed our bags out of our hands. "Your vacation starts now, these are my responsibility now."

Now that's what I'm talkin' about!

As we trudged up to the welcome desk to get checked in I spied a small bar off to my left. Like a deer drawn to headlights I drifted closer and found that it came with two taps sporting the Red Stripe logo. The handful of empty bar stools looked lonely. Letting Fran do the dirty work (she was at that time still not a beer fan) I mozied closer and "shook hands" with one of the seats. It was as happy to see me as I was to be sitting in it. But no one was behind the counter and I couldn't get anyone's attention. The Red Stripe was calling me.

About this time a fellow traveler (also a Professional Drinker) saddled up to the bar to meet one of the seats - it was Travis. I vaguely remember us cracking a joke or two as we waited for someone - ANYONE! - to start pouring. After a few polite coughs, another friendly Couples staffer appeared and the suds started flowing. Hallelujah! "Vacation" had officially commenced!

I took two Red Stripes and headed off to find Fran, as happy as a child with a shinny new present on Christmas morn. She was just finishing up the check in process when I greeted her with a huge smile and a cup 'o Red Stripe. She took. She drank. She liked!

We took a seat in the comfy waiting area, but no sooner had my posterior touched down then I noticed that my cup was empty. I mozied back over to the bar and informed the young lady serving beers to other thirsty travelers that my cup had "sprung a leak" and I needed a new one - along with a refill of course. Like a Rasta man with Ganja, my cup (several of them I think) was instantly filled.

"Ire" had gotten hold of us...