On our honeymoon, Maggie and I went to Jamaica.  We had heard good things about Sandals in Negril and had all but decided to stay there before we had walked into the travel agent’s office to book the trip.  However, the travel agent instead recommended Couples in Negril.  She showed us some brochures and added that she goes to Couples whenever she travels to Jamaica.  She said it was very romantic and accommodating, and the brochures certainly seemed to reflect that.  It was also a lot cheaper than Sandals, yet still all-inclusive.  Neither Maggie nor I would have even considered skimping on our honeymoon, but all things being equal, a lower price certainly didn’t hurt to make up our minds in favor of Couples.

The resort was even nicer than we had imagined and we had a fantastic stay.  I haven’t been to Sandals, so I couldn’t rightfully compare the two, but I know I wouldn’t hesitate to go back to Couples.  Our room was spacious and clean, had a balcony with a great view, a large bathroom with jacuzzi, a big bed, an excellent air conditioning unit, and a CD player/radio for which we had brought many CD’s.  The decor conveyed the feel of the island without being either overpowering or gaudy.  We felt quite comfortable in our room, which was good since we spent a fair amount of time there on our honeymoon, but still the rest of the resort was top notch, too.

When we first arrived, the hotel staff announced that there would be an orientation shortly, leaving us little time to ourselves.  We were shown to our room, unpacked a few things, and diligently headed back to the lobby to meet up with the rest of the guests for the orientation.  For the next twenty minutes, they introduced the hotel staff, identified the various desks in the lobby, and showed us the gift shop, also in the main section of the hotel.  It didn’t look to be a very exciting tour to say the least.  The guide then led us through the main dining room, past the pool, to the poolside bar.  He then told us the schedule for each of the dining areas and explained that food is available at the poolside bar whenever a meal isn’t available in the main dining room and restaurants.  Maggie tugged on my sleeve and said, “Ok, I’ve heard enough.” I stammered something to the effect, “B-b-but, what about the rest of the tour?” and Maggie poignantly added, “To heck with it.  Let’s get a drink!” Is it any wonder why I fell in love and married her?

Maggie and I pulled ourselves out of the tour and sidled up to the poolside bar where we ordered cocktails and looked out over the beach.  The whole time, I felt like we were cutting gym class, which is ridiculous but it added to the surreal feeling of sitting in Jamaica with my new wife, sipping exotic drinks.  We were pretty comfortable and feeling pretty good when the rest of the tour returned about forty minutes later.  As they jockeyed for position at the bar, another couple recognized us and asked if we weren’t in the group.  I explained how we ducked out after we got the only info we felt we needed and headed to the bar instead.  I asked if we had missed anything, to which they replied, “Not much.  I wish we had skipped out, too.”

In the center of the resort is an enormous swimming pool connected to a smaller, side pool and a swim-up bar.  The smaller pool is about three feet lower than the swimming pool, so water continuously flows over the wall separating the two, creating a waterfall.  The effect was quite charming, the water was cool and comfortable, and the swim-up bar was convenient.  When we weren’t in our room, we spent a lot of time in the side pool.  If they would have agreed to serve us our meals there, I may have spent all of my out-of-room time in that pool.  Excepting of course, the time I spent walking between the pool and the bathrooms which were inconveniently located back in the hotel.

In order to get to the bathrooms, I had to exit the side pool by the stairs, walk around the main swimming pool, hike through the dining room, down a hall, and into the men’s room.  It was inconvenient enough that I had to speculate how many guests didn’t bother to make the trip, which in turn made me appreciate all the more the filtering and circulating system that moved the water from the main pool to the side pool and back again.  On my way back, it seemed a waste to walk all the way around the main pool again, so instead I walked down the stairs into the pool, trudged and swam across it and came directly to the divider wall that creates the waterfall.  Seeing no graceful way over it, I decided to go all out and pounced on the wall on my belly, slipped over the side, and splashed into the water, like a seal diving into the Atlantic.  I popped my head out of the water in time to hear a round of applause and scattered “scores” for the dive which I eventually perfected after regular trips to the bathroom throughout our stay.  In the course of our stay, I witnessed many other guests confused as how to cross into the side pool from the main pool.  Most exited the main pool by the stairs, walked around the circumference, and entered the side pool by its stairs.  Only a few ventured over the wall, and none with as much enthusiasm as I.

When we had first arrived, we met a nice older couple who had been married for many years.  The wife was very nice, although I thought the husband a little nosy.  However, we always made a point of saying hello whenever we saw them.  On one of the first days, I was sitting at the pool-side bar waiting for Maggie who was probably making the trek to the bathroom, when the husband struck up a conversation with me.  He started with, “So, what did you guys do yesterday?” “Nothing,” I answered plainly.  “Yeah?  We didn’t do much either.  We just went into town, walked through a few flea markets, and went out to a restaurant.” His definition of “nothing” was far different than mine.  Over the course of the week, I discovered his definition also included sunning on the beach, parasailing, and even horseback riding.  Mine remained pretty much the same.

On the last day of our honeymoon, the resort had scheduled a bus to take its departing guests back to the hotel.  Maggie and I turned out in good form, with our luggage, checked out, and awaited transportation.  The lobby was crowded, but not everyone had the same departure time, so when our time was announced, we put our bads in the designated area and stood near until the bus arrived and the driver began loading the baggage.  The cargo hold quickly filled and it appeared that not everyone was going to make it on the bus.  We could sense the agitation among some of the guests, but Maggie and I took things in stride and waited patiently.  Soon, however, another couple, I assume also recently married and who had arrived much later than us, picked up their bags from the back and put them directly in front of our luggage.  It didn’t escape our notice and didn’t escape the notice of the driver who realized there would be only enough room for two more people.

The husband saw the look the driver made to us and told his wife, “Honey, I think we just cut in line,” but she dismissed his comment and put the rest of her baggage down.  The driver stopped loading the bus and told her directly, “These people were here ahead of you.” To which the wife replied, “Oh?  Were you waiting for the bus?” as if she had somehow missed the crowd of people, the semblance of a line, and her husband’s remarks.  I answered coldly, “Yes.  In fact we were all here waiting for the bus before you came up.  Those are our bags you put your luggage in front of.” She feigned a look of surprise and asked the driver, “Well, what are we supposed to do?” “There’s another bus coming,” he offered.  She stood there a moment, made no attempt to remove her bags, and appeared to hope that we’d all agree to cram into the bus together so she wouldn’t have to wait for the next bus.  I, however, looked at the already crowded bus and offered to Maggie that instead, we wait for the next bus.  I could tell that Maggie was a little peeved and was eager to claim our spot rather than give this woman her way, but I rationalized that we weren’t in a rush.  The hotel was still serving complimentary champagne cocktails.  I definitely didn’t mind extending our honeymoon a little longer and the next bus may be less crowded.  She agreed and we told the driver that this other couple could take our spot.  We would wait for the next bus.

I don’t know if this woman went home happy with herself or was embarrassed that she had caused a scene in the last hour of the last day of her honeymoon, but I do know we left happy.  I had learned from the Jamaicans to say, “No problem, mon,” and in a twist of fate that so often accompanies a positive attitude, the next bus was indeed a much better option.  The next bus didn’t turn out to be a bus at all; it was an 8-passenger minivan that Maggie and I had all to ourselves.  The driver was a really nice local who took the time to point out interesting landmarks and the sites where they filmed various scenes from the movie Cool Runnings with John Candy.  We stretched out in the cool A/C and enjoyed his conversation between smooth reggae songs on the radio.  It was a comfortable ride that felt more like a tour than two and half hour transportation to the airport.  I would gladly have paid extra for the comfort of the van over the cramped, sweaty quarters of the bus.

Aside from the brief lapse in the beginning of our honeymoon and the last day when we needed to checkout, during our honeymoon Maggie and I took a vacation from time and schedules.  We got up when we awoke, ate when we were hungry, swam when the mood struck us, and went to sleep when we were tired.  The rest of the time, we had no agenda other than to spend time together and enjoy each other’s company.  It was blissful.  I suppose there will be a time in our lives when we’ll grow a little bored with each other and will be thankful for structured activities, but that day hasn’t yet come. After leaving the island and returning home, we’ve long since had to rejoin society and yield to the mechanics of time and schedules out of necessity, but I look forward to those stolen moments when we have free time to spend together and can choose to do anything we want or simply nothing at all.  It’s like living my honeymoon over again.  And it’s still bliss.

"Patience serves as a protection against wrongs as clothes do against cold. For if you put on more clothes as the cold increases, it will have no power to hurt you. So in like manner you must grow in patience when you meet with great wrongs, and they will then be powerless to vex your mind.”
Leonardo DaVinci