“Jamaican me crazy”
Chris and I just returned from a wonderful vacation in Jamaica – wonderful, with a few hiccups. For those of you interested in reading about it, continue past the next paragraph to the very end.
For those of you more interested in something seasonally-appropriate and my typical straight-up, no-nonsense fitness advice, read this throwback post about diet and weightloss red flags to look for, especially this time of year. I like this post; it has 5 solid points and good reminders that health and fitness is a lifestyle that takes a little bit of work, every day.
Getting There Is NOT Half the Fun
If you’re a fan of National Lampoon movies, you know Clark Griswold famously said, “Getting there is half the fun,” as he loads up his family into the family truckster and schlepps them off for a cross-country road trip.
While I love the Griswolds, I do not agree with Clark on this one. From the very moment our trip began, getting there proved to be the worst.
First, our flight from Fargo was delayed the night before we left. No biggie, 15 minutes extra sleep. Our second delay out of Fargo, that’s what really did us in. Because of a mistake made by someone or multiple people at the airport, our plane left nearly an hour and a half late, causing us to miss our first connection in Minneapolis, and sending us into a full day of delayed travel that landed us a “bonus” night in Atlanta where it was a balmy 35 degrees and a delightful Ruby Tuesdays was the only restaurant in sight.
Thanks, Fargo. You screwed us out of a full day of our honeymoon. Best part: it seems no one, not the airport, not the airline, not the resort, has to reimburse us for that lost day we pre-paid for and lost due to no fault of our own. Awesome start to the honeymoon.
Honeymoon Means Nothing
Bumped up to first class. Special lounge privileges. Upgraded to a deluxe suite. When Monica and Chandler (Friends reference coming) go on their honeymoon, a fellow honeymooning couple gets all these perks while the Bings miss out on the special treatment. It falsely led me to believe I’d get any sort of special accommodation for being on my honeymoon.
This started immediately when we finally arrived in Minneapolis, way overdue to catch our connecting flight to Atlanta. We begged and desperately tried to get the Delta “help” desk to find us any sort of rerouted flight plan that did not require us staying overnight in a hub, anything they could do to get us to Jamaica that day. Not only was the help desk incredibly unhelpful, using the honeymoon card proved to be as effective as using the thigh master machine at the gym.
We even tried using it to get a seat upgrade for our troubles. While we didn’t get that, we did get seats that WEREN’T EVEN TOGETHER for both our remaining two flights. Strike two for the honeymooners.
This un-special treatment continued at the resort, where we found out, not only did we not get any sort of upgrade or accommodation for our lost day, we did not qualify for any of the standard honeymoon perks because we weren’t married in the last 30 days. Apparently only the first 30 days of your marriage is the honeymoon phase. Seriously, does the universe hate all honeymooners or just us?
Honeymoon Still Means Nothing
You’d think the un-honeymoon treatment would have ended at the beginning of our trip. But you’d be wrong, as it followed us on our return as well.
When I heard my name called by the Delta gate agent on the last flight of our trip, I thought the time had arrived. We were finally getting something special! First class, here we come! As Coach Corso says, “Not so fast!”
I actually received the unpleasant notification I had been randomly selected for additional screening. Instead of stepping on the plane first and watching all other passengers go by with a mimosa in my hand, I stepped to the side and everyone got to watch me go through a search that left me feeling like a reformed convict.
Oh, but the fun didn’t end there. While going through customs, we were flagged and led through a special line to go through a special booth. We had literally brought back nothing from Jamaica, and Chris leaned over to me and whispered, “This is either really good or really bad.” Apparently there’s a warrant out for someone who shares his name with my husband so they had to make sure we weren’t in fact on the run from the law.
While I wouldn’t say that was exactly a win for us, we did bypass the longer, non-criminal suspects line. So, there’s that.
Math? On Vacation?!
Don’t worry, this post isn’t completely void of something fitness related. Did you know the treadmills are set to metric system in Jamaica? I sure didn’t – not sure why I wouldn’t have expected that tho. Stereotypical spoiled American here.
My first run of the trip came with a surprise math lesson. As I bumped up the treadmill to my usual 7.6 MPH pace, I noticed how slow and easy it felt. Could it be my lungs were just THAT much better in Jamaica? Or did the prior evening’s disco dancing warm up my legs really well? Perhaps Red Stripe and strawberry daiquiris are some kind of secret speed weapon for me?
Not shockingly, none of the above were true. I quickly began to suspect the speed was off on the mill. Then, after seeing “1” come up way before I knew I had run one mile, it dawned on me. Ah, the metric system.
Luckily, I run enough to know that 5k is 3.1 miles so I had an accurate point of reference for my distance. And shoutout to my pal, Terry, from Canada for confirming the pace I ended up choosing – after a few “ks” of trying to do mental math – was right on par with where I’d normally be.
OMG I’m such a horrible brat, right? How ungrateful can I be about a week spent in paradise with my new husband?
I’m sharing this story with a, hopefully obvious, large dose of humor. A reminder that sometimes a lot of stuff goes wrong, goes bad, and goes horribly un-according to plan. A reminder that, when everything does seem like a mess, that’s just life. A reminder that it makes a type A, super-planner, not go-with-the-flow gal like me crazy, but it all ends up good in the end.
And seriously, all the random shenanigans aside, Chris and I had a wonderful vacation.
We made memories and made friends (Chicago, Houston, and Nashville, Georgia, SoDak, and Wisco, you know who you are).
We got tan and got fat (ugh, me anyway).
We created beach artwork and created a new tradition (building stuff).
We swam in a cave and jumped off a cliff (scary but fun!).
We spent our days by, on, and in the water (ocean and pool).
It was a great trip! Now the only question is: Do we go back to Jamaica or find a new adventure?
What’s the best place you’ve ever vacationed? Would you go back or is it more fun to trying someplace new each time? Comment or tweet me, @runlikeagirl311 on Twitter.