My husband and I traveled to Jamaica for our honeymoon back in May of 1990. Planning this trip had both of us eager to experience new adventures, see new lands, bask in the hot sun, and hopefully meet some of the locals. We had agreed on an all-inclusive resort in Port Antonio, with a spicy addition. A private, nude island they would ferry you out to from the nearby resort.
After our big night, we were semi-rested before heading out to O’Hare Airport to catch our flight to Jamaica. This had been my second flight in my entire life, the first being the trip to Germany I wrote about previously. I’m not a good flier but I held my breath and braced myself as we took off, ears popping along with the gum in my mouth. As we leveled out, I was thankful it wasn’t a very long flight.
Upon landing and disembarking, the thing I remembered best was someone coming up to us, and others, trying to sell us pot. Not the best place to try selling drugs, but we assumed it was a trap, wondering, with a watchful eye, which foolish traveler would be ensnared right there on the tarmac.
After showing our passports and collecting our luggage, we were ushered to a tour bus which would take us to the resort. Let me tell you, it was a long trip to the resort. Not sure how long but it seemed like hours. The resort’s guides on the bus handed out free soda and Red Stripe beer to us to help with the sweltering, and unfamiliar heat. We drank, but alas there was no facility on the bus and before long, we all got a bit of the ‘shaky leg’. Many an empty beer bottle became a mini urinal for a lot of the guys. Us ladies were not so fortunate to have any mayo jars laying around the bus! Eventually the bus pulled over to a rest area with a bathroom, and there was great rejoicing! Hurrah!
At the resort, our room was lovely, there was plenty of food, an indoor bar along with an outdoor one and of course, unlimited alcohol. Just being on the ocean was mesmerizing. My husband, the brave one, went snorkeling while I wound up with a two/three case of food poisoning from eating from an outdoor salad bar. This caused me to miss my husband and our new-found friends at the resort, do their rendition of ‘Piano Man’ in the piano bar one night. My husband laughingly told me the only part any one of them could recall, in their inebriated state was the ‘Lalalala’ part.
We spent an evening with one of the couples in their rented villa not far from our resort. Between drinking and just laughing and having a good time as young people often do, our female host entertained us with one of those ‘face on chin’ and with her laying over the back of the couch with a towel covering the rest of her face, she had us in stitches. I wish I could remember their names, the couples we met that week. We did get together once with one of the couples but that was many years…no wait…decades ago. I wonder if they are all still together as my husband and I are thirty years later.
The people, beautiful and friendly, were always ready to help with whatever we needed. We enjoyed ourselves. The nights were warm and the entertainment hot. We spent some time walking around the countryside, and purchasing Jamaican souvenirs. We went down to the open air markets where Jamaicans hawked their wares, and offered to braid our hair. Heart racing, and so many sights and sounds for this Aspie girl to take in. Sometimes it was terrifying, and other times exhilarating. With Aspergers, I’ve found that some new experiences can be tricky. We need to know what to expect. There is no thrill in the unknown for me, only fear and uncertainty. Yet I love to explore new places, as long as I have my husband by my side.
We returned home only to return to another spot on the lovely island of Jamaica three years later when we went on our first and only cruise so far. That is another story.
