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Prelude:
First of all, let me tell you that writing is the last thing I want to do. [img]/forums/images/graemlins/frown.gif[/img] I’ve been teaching so long, that I can’t even remember exactly how many years; either 22 ½ or 23 ½ years. I am a victim of severe burn-out. I barely made it through the school year without killing either my anal-retentive supervisor or my 11th period class, or both. [img]/forums/images/graemlins/mad.gif[/img] Finally exams ended, and I picked up a little extra money writing curriculum over the next few days. This will come in handy, especially since I don’t work all summer, and we only get paid from September through June.
The day draws near. I pack, making note of things I’ve forgotten. My daughter volunteers to go out and pick up those few things for me, so I give her my ATM card. She returns, but has forgotten my cigarettes (I know, I know it’s a horrible habit, but I’ve been addicted since I was 12) Lo and behold, the ATM card has demagnetized!!
This brings to mind the most important thing I’ve forgotten; to get a back-up ATM card. Oh well, whatever.
My flight is American Airlines out of JFK at 10 AM. I hate this trip to NY, but I must be in Jamaica on July 1, Alberto’s birthday, and all the AirJa flights are sold out, so I booked this one. I could have flown out of Newark, but I refuse to go through Miami International again after a delay fiasco last year which got me into MoBay 16 hours late. I finish packing and get to bed at a really respectable time( midnight).
The next morning, my son and grandson come to take me to the airport. My son takes his responsibility as sole adult male in the family very seriously. I must be at the airport on time, so he comes at 6 A.M., giving us plenty of time for the drive to JFK. Somehow evil overcomes me, and we begin to bicker continuously on the way there. Suddenly he asks me, “have you had your coffee?” “No!” I snap. “What?” he says, “you’ve got me in this car with you, and you haven’t had your coffee?” He swerves across 3 lanes of traffic, and quickly goes into the rest stop we almost had passed, and gets me a GIGANTIC cup of strong, black coffee. After a few sips, everything is criss—I’m on my way to Jamaica.
My son drives to the airport as though he commutes there every day, and we arrive by 7:30. Plenty of time to get checked in, right? I now remember why I’ve always avoided this airport, too many dyam people!! [img]/forums/images/graemlins/mad.gif[/img] Lines everywhere. I begin to get shakey and light-headed, because of course I haven’t eaten and I am hypoglycemic. (A low blood sugar problem) I finally get to the check-in desk and the young girl notices my hands shaking, and offers me some of her grapes; she says her mom has the same problem. Wasn’t that nice? I thank her profusely and gobble some down, feeling better by the minute. I trek to the gate and wait for the plane—where is it? Of course I have over an hour to wait until boarding, and I’m too excited to read the book I’ve bought along, even though it’s the new Tom Clancy adventure novel. I decide to get something to eat, remembering that the last time I flew American, they only gave me a teaspoon of nuts in a little baggie.
So it’s pizza in the morning for me, which is better than nothing, and at least it fills the hole and stops the shaking and sweating.
Finally we board. I’m in the back of the plane, row 32, but who cares? The people in first class will arrive at the same time I do!! The flight down is uneventful, I read, I sleep the time away. I awaken as we cross Cuba’s south coast, and once again I am in awe of the brilliant blue of the Caribbean. The little cays and islands with their little spits of sand beaches are entrancing; I suck in my breath at the luminous beauty of the clear water. I can see where the bottom is sandy or weeded or possessed of a reef. Away from the islands/cays, in the depths, the ocean is still a blue that I never experienced growing up in New Jersey; the ocean there is greenish and dense, not light and airy like here. BTW, after seeing the Caribbean for the first time in 1992, I have NEVER gone to the beach in New Jersey.
Then, lost in a mist of afternoon cloud, I finally see ‘my’ island. For some reason, the pilot is approaching the airport from over the island, not from the sea; but he turns and in a large sweep and lands. I’M IN JAMAICA!!!
[img]/forums/images/graemlins/laugh.gif[/img]
First of all, let me tell you that writing is the last thing I want to do. [img]/forums/images/graemlins/frown.gif[/img] I’ve been teaching so long, that I can’t even remember exactly how many years; either 22 ½ or 23 ½ years. I am a victim of severe burn-out. I barely made it through the school year without killing either my anal-retentive supervisor or my 11th period class, or both. [img]/forums/images/graemlins/mad.gif[/img] Finally exams ended, and I picked up a little extra money writing curriculum over the next few days. This will come in handy, especially since I don’t work all summer, and we only get paid from September through June.
The day draws near. I pack, making note of things I’ve forgotten. My daughter volunteers to go out and pick up those few things for me, so I give her my ATM card. She returns, but has forgotten my cigarettes (I know, I know it’s a horrible habit, but I’ve been addicted since I was 12) Lo and behold, the ATM card has demagnetized!!
This brings to mind the most important thing I’ve forgotten; to get a back-up ATM card. Oh well, whatever.My flight is American Airlines out of JFK at 10 AM. I hate this trip to NY, but I must be in Jamaica on July 1, Alberto’s birthday, and all the AirJa flights are sold out, so I booked this one. I could have flown out of Newark, but I refuse to go through Miami International again after a delay fiasco last year which got me into MoBay 16 hours late. I finish packing and get to bed at a really respectable time( midnight).
The next morning, my son and grandson come to take me to the airport. My son takes his responsibility as sole adult male in the family very seriously. I must be at the airport on time, so he comes at 6 A.M., giving us plenty of time for the drive to JFK. Somehow evil overcomes me, and we begin to bicker continuously on the way there. Suddenly he asks me, “have you had your coffee?” “No!” I snap. “What?” he says, “you’ve got me in this car with you, and you haven’t had your coffee?” He swerves across 3 lanes of traffic, and quickly goes into the rest stop we almost had passed, and gets me a GIGANTIC cup of strong, black coffee. After a few sips, everything is criss—I’m on my way to Jamaica.
My son drives to the airport as though he commutes there every day, and we arrive by 7:30. Plenty of time to get checked in, right? I now remember why I’ve always avoided this airport, too many dyam people!! [img]/forums/images/graemlins/mad.gif[/img] Lines everywhere. I begin to get shakey and light-headed, because of course I haven’t eaten and I am hypoglycemic. (A low blood sugar problem) I finally get to the check-in desk and the young girl notices my hands shaking, and offers me some of her grapes; she says her mom has the same problem. Wasn’t that nice? I thank her profusely and gobble some down, feeling better by the minute. I trek to the gate and wait for the plane—where is it? Of course I have over an hour to wait until boarding, and I’m too excited to read the book I’ve bought along, even though it’s the new Tom Clancy adventure novel. I decide to get something to eat, remembering that the last time I flew American, they only gave me a teaspoon of nuts in a little baggie.
So it’s pizza in the morning for me, which is better than nothing, and at least it fills the hole and stops the shaking and sweating.Finally we board. I’m in the back of the plane, row 32, but who cares? The people in first class will arrive at the same time I do!! The flight down is uneventful, I read, I sleep the time away. I awaken as we cross Cuba’s south coast, and once again I am in awe of the brilliant blue of the Caribbean. The little cays and islands with their little spits of sand beaches are entrancing; I suck in my breath at the luminous beauty of the clear water. I can see where the bottom is sandy or weeded or possessed of a reef. Away from the islands/cays, in the depths, the ocean is still a blue that I never experienced growing up in New Jersey; the ocean there is greenish and dense, not light and airy like here. BTW, after seeing the Caribbean for the first time in 1992, I have NEVER gone to the beach in New Jersey.
Then, lost in a mist of afternoon cloud, I finally see ‘my’ island. For some reason, the pilot is approaching the airport from over the island, not from the sea; but he turns and in a large sweep and lands. I’M IN JAMAICA!!!
[img]/forums/images/graemlins/laugh.gif[/img]
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