Where NOT to Honeymoon
I swore I would tell the world about my horrible Sandals honeymoon someday. Today is that day. I don’t know what’s moved me to do so now, other than to prove that a big storm cloud followed me, even back then. Literally.
Mr. BBM and I were married in the middle of October in 1998. When we were planning our honeymoon, we considered Hawaii, but then heard that St. Lucia was the Hawaii of the Caribbean and decided to save some money and go there instead. We paid for it ourselves, and decided we would go to Sandals St. Lucia. The brochures looked so nice. We’d pay more for what we considered was a guaranteed awesome honeymoon.
Our flight left the Philadelphia airport on a Sunday morning and we arrived in Miami, Florida for a brief layover. We boarded a plane to St. Lucia with great anticipation. Several hours later, we were in the middle of a horrible rain storm and I was completely panicked. Our pilot kept lowering the landing gear and circling what appeared to be a small and barely lit speck of an island, before she would abruptly pull the gear back up and continue to circle some more.
The older man seated beside us was drinking rather heavily and explained this erratic flight behavior on the fact that our pilot was a woman. I was too scared at the time to punch him in the nose, but thinking back, I sure would have liked to. I thought that perhaps it was the bad weather and the fact that our pilot preferred to land our plane at an airport and not in an ocean that was holding us up.
After circling for quite some time, we finally landed. The rain was coming down in sheets and the airport was pretty much open to the elements. We retrieved our bags and went out to where our Sandals van was supposed to be waiting to deliver us to paradise.
We gave our names and were then herded out of the way by the Sandals drivers/organizers along with eight other couples. While other weary couples were getting into the vans, we stood there getting wetter by the second. After flying for 9 hours, and barely getting any rest the two nights before, I was on edge.
After continually asking what was going on and getting nowhere, Mr. BBM finally had enough. He approached one of the guys and demanded to know what was going on. We finally got our answer.
Sandals had overbooked the resort. There was no room for us or the eight other couples. We were being "bumped" to a hotel on the other side of the island, for not one night, not two nights, but for four nights. We had paid for an all-inclusive Sandals vacation and we now didn’t know what we were getting.
When Mr. BBM delivered the bad news to me, I immediately burst into hysterical tears. I was exhausted and this was the icing on the cake. I thought I was going to die on the plane and now I didn’t know where I’d be sleeping. Because of the tears and the hysteria that was building because of them, the Sandals man quickly grabbed our bags, loaded them into a rickety cab and told us to get in. He gave the driver directions I didn’t understand and we were off.
We had no idea where we were going. The roads were dark; the rain was pouring so much so that goats were washing out into the road. The cab was so old and awful that I felt like we were in a Flintstones car. The floor of the car seemed transparent. For all we knew, we could have been taken off for slaughter. It was a terrifying drive.
After driving for about an hour, we arrived at a gated entryway. We drove through the rain forest and arrived at a building. We were at what was then called The Jalousie Hilton (now The Jalousie Plantation). Another couple was also there. We were trying to get the details of our stay straight. Sandals could not guarantee that our expenses would all be covered, yet we brought no money with us at all. We had paid for an all-inclusive vacation.
While the other newlywed wife and I sat and tried to comfort each other, Mr. BBM and the other husband were laying down the law and trying to get a straight story about what was going on.
Soon, we were taken via another resort van to our villa in the rain forest. We were nestled between the two Piton mountains in St. Lucia but our view at night was of a pitch black rain forest. It was too late to call our travel agent and we were starving. With no guarantee that Sandals would pay for our expenses, we decided to stick it to them.
We ordered comfort food: hamburgers and a half case of beer via room service. We ordered other island specialties as well and stocked our villa with food while I cried and Mr. BBM paced angrily. This was not how it was supposed to be. . .
Check back tomorrow for the next segment of the honeymoon from hell. Here’s a brief preview: water shortage, more rain, food poisoning. . .
The Beach in Review
Disclaimer: I am distinctly aware that there are more pictures of Lil C than there are of Big I in this post. That is because a certain 7-year old decided she’d like to try on the attitude of a pesky 14-year old while on vacation, whenever the mood moved her. Please don’t tell me, because I am already well aware, that I am in for it, that this is revenge for being a boy-crazy-nasty-14-year old myself at one point in my life. I get it. Just view the pictures and move on. No lectures are necessary. I have already consulted a locksmith to make sure she remains locked in her room indefinitely when she hits those teenage years. The proof of the ‘tude is in this picture. View with caution. Her glare can cause premature death. . .
Actually, this glare is probably more because a certain Mommy was a little bit obsessed with the sandcastle and gave Big I a designated "spot" to work on that did not infringe on my space or my Corona Lite.
We did get some smiles out of her. We just had to promise her things like ice cream and fairies to do so. . .
Then there’s Lil C, who wanted to "surf" with Daddy and enjoyed every waking moment at the beach. . .
Non-awake moments too (Can I tell you how much I love the beach and the naps that it brings?):
Here, I’ll prove it:
What could possibly be better than a little one napping on your lap at the beach?
O.k., besides sister’s actually getting along for a brief moment. Ah. . . that’s pretty nice too.
The only picture of me not in my swimsuit the entire week (hating Mr. BBM for this because I highly prefer more covered up viewings of the bod that is BBM):
Completely pooped out after a rough night of miniature golf:
And another night of golf. . . She’s a Tigress I tell you:
An adorable moment between a Pop-Pop and a grand-daughter. . .
While Mommy looks on with sangria in hand (are you sensing a sangria related theme to BBM Summer 2008?) . . .
The most fantastic sand castle ever built (notice the initials). . .
And more of my sandcastle because it’s just. that. good (pictures totally don’t do it justice either). . .
A satisfied BBM taking a brief break to watch the waves, after creating yet another masterpiece (the third of the week-quite relaxing because building them was kind of like meditation or something). . .
My parents, who upon discovering this picture is on my blog (4 years from now when they actually read it), will say "I look fat" and "My hair looks horrible" respectively. . .
Lil C doing an impersonation of Mr. BBM (Yes, it resulted in broken sunglasses. It was worth it.). . .
My Dad catching a wave. . .
And almost getting dumped by it. . .
My Dad helping Big I and Lil C touch sting rays:
And me helping Lil C touch a sea star (she’s smiling because I was talking in her ear like Patrick from Sponge Bob). . .
I’m not sure why I included this picture except to say "For me to poop on. . . " I’ve obviously been watching entirely too much Conan O’Brien. Oh, and birds like to poop on me. . . a lot.
Big I scaling the high wall, while Mommy shakes on with fear:
My favorite picture of the week. . .
It was an all-around fabulous vacation.
***There are new reviews up at The BBM Review. If you’re looking for a new deadbolt or new sparring shoes, you won’t want to miss the latest and greatest. The BBM Review was just nominated for a Blogger’s Choice Award for "Best Blog About Stuff" so please click on over and vote for us! We certainly appreciate the nomination and any votes we get! Thanks especially to Becky for the nomination!!!
We’ll Be Taking It All
After receiving another miserable offer yesterday, our realtor called the buyer’s realtor to ask why they made such a crappy offer. One of her reasons was that, we "didn’t do anything to the place." She said we "hadn’t updated at all."
Over the past almost five years, Mr. BBM and I have slowly worked our way through this house. We’ve redone almost every single room in the house. We both took it personally. So, Mr. BBM and I decided this morning that if we were to reach an agreement with these people, we’re going to let them know a couple things.
First of all, we’re taking all of the things we "didn’t do" to the place. The list will include the following:
- Ripping up the kitchen floor and leaving the cabinets bare, without the brushed nickel hardware.
- Baldwin Brass hardware from the every bathroom in the house. They don’t need knobs, toilet paper holders or towel bars right?
- The new microwave and garbage disposal.
- The suede paint on the dining room walls. I’m sure the new buyers will enjoy the nasty sponge painting underneath. We certainly did. . . NOT.
- The refinished cabinets in our master bathroom and all the paint on the walls too. In fact, we’ll put back up the three layers of old pink wallpaper if we can find some leftovers. There was no sweat equity in that job at all. Really.
- We’re also going to scrape the paint off the girls’ bathroom, and put back up the ugly border.
- We’ll also scrape paint off of both of the girls’ rooms, the family room, and all of the hallways, ceilings and foyer. We hope the new owners will enjoy the areas where the owner before us painted around furniture.
- All the new carpeting in the hallways, on the stairs, in the master bedroom and the girls’ rooms, the upgraded padding too.
- Don’t mind the big hole in the wall in the foyer. We’re taking the wireless security system.
- I hope they like cold showers, because we’ll also be taking our new hot water heater.
- Also, the new front door deadbolt and lock, the new brass numbers on the house and all the paint surrounding the windows and doors on the front of the house.
- We’re detaching and taking the sun deck too. That’s probably going to leave some holes.
Oh well, the new owners can just pretend they have floor coverings, paint and that the holes we’ve left don’t exist. After all, we didn’t do anything to the place right?
Oh, I almost forgot. For the realtor who says we didn’t do anything:
Honey, you didn’t do anything either, besides make us mad. So, I’m sure you won’t mind reducing your commission by, oh 3%, since all you really did was open the door for them. I mean, what did you really do to sell our house? If your buyer’s want 3% seller’s assist, they can have your commission. Feel like you’re getting a raw deal? Yeah, that’s how we feel.
Is it too early to have a glass of sangria???
Sucktastic #2
Today we got an offer from new people. They saw our house yesterday for the first time and put in an offer more pathetic than the first sucktastic offer of a few weeks ago. On top of the low offer, they’re requesting seller’s assist. They want us out of here in like 30 days, and they didn’t even give us any hand money, saying instead that they’ll give it after we accept their agreement. They also elected every possible contingency with the opt out option checked instead of the negotiate one. Yeah, that’s a good strong offer.
Not.
Because I think my realtor sensed I was on the edge, he came for a visit this afternoon. With comps in hand, he showed me that we are priced right, that three intelligent people can’t be wrong, and that we have had the unfortunate luck of being given not one, but two crappy offers for absolutely no sensible reason. I was wearing my "Life is Good" shirt when he arrived. I’m not completely sure this whole shirt/attitude thing is working for me.
We countered quickly and with this: full price and we’ll consider moving out sometime this summer and inconveniencing ourselves. Or, give us our settlement when we want it and we’ll maybe consider giving some seller’s assist with a full price offer. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it.
Our realtor encouraged me (and himself because I think his little pep-talk was for both of us) to move on and focus on what comes next. These people aren’t doing us any good. Focusing on their sucky offer won’t do us any good either.
I’ll tell you something that will though. I was stirring it up as my realtor arrived. . . sangria.
Dear Prospective Home Buyers. . .
I won’t go into the details. I’ll just say that yesterday I was absolutely convinced I was having a heart attack as we finished cleaning up the house for a showing. I had terrible chest pain, and it killed to take a deep breath. When we arrived at my Mom’s house for my grandmother’s 91st birthday party, I told her that I thought I might be dying. She gave me some Maalox, and soon I felt better. Stress-related heartburn, not heart failure. Relief. Having your house on the market when you have two young children is one of the most stressful things you can do.
We have a big open house coming up. Over 200 invitations have been sent out to apartment renters. Door prizes will be given, the mortgage man and realtor will be on site, and if someone buys my house, they’ll get a flat screen HDTV. Because of recent events, I’m considering leaving a note on the counter that reads like this:
Dear Prospective Home Buyers,
If you’re looking for something cheap, you’re at the wrong location. You should probably go visit the Dollar Store and stop wasting my time.
Sincerely,
The Home Sellers
I’ve had it with certain buyers saying we’re "overpriced" when we’re at least $20K beneath the comparable homes right up the street that have 500 square feet less than us and virtually no upgrades to speak of. I’m tired of cleaning and getting my hopes up, and I’m not sure how to deal with it.
Do I approach things with a positive attitude every time someone expresses interest in my home and think that this could be it? Or should I prepare myself for the absolute worst and figure that nothing will come of it to spare myself the intense disappointment?
Anyone have advice? Positive thoughts? A sales agreement for me with a full price offer perhaps?
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