Where NOT to Honeymoon Part II
This story is continued from a previous post.
We awoke in the morning to more rain, but at least we could see where we were. Our surroundings were beautiful, but that didn’t change our disgust with the situation. Mr. BBM tried to call our travel agent. She basically told us her hands were tied. We weren’t getting in to Sandals St. Lucia anytime soon. We decided we’d make the best of it.
The sun began to come out. For once the rain had stopped, so we thought we’d go play a quick set of tennis. To get around the resort, either a golf cart or a van would come to transport you. They dropped us off at the tennis/spa area and we started to play. We were the only idiots stupid enough to be playing tennis instead of enjoying the spa. But spa treatments were not covered by Sandals so we stayed away. In retrospect, we should have gone and made them pay for it. I’m sure we could have convinced them that we ate a sugar wrap or cucumber mask instead of bathing in it.
The air was thick with humidity and we barely made it through the set when it started to rain again. We had no idea that they were so serious about October being part of the rainy season when we booked our honeymoon. When we arrived back at our villa, all I wanted to do was take a shower. I tried to run the water and nothing happened. I tried to run the sink and nothing happened.
The next thing we knew, there was a man knocking on our door with a large water dispenser jug of water. He explained to us that because of all the rain, the water filtration system had flooded and was contaminated. This jug was our water for the forseeable future. This is not what you want to be told after playing tennis is 99 degree weather on your honeymoon.
We needed to use the water to bathe, brush our teeth, and even to flush the toilet. This was not going to be fun. We basically took sponge baths and then Mr. BBM assisted me with washing my hair. We didn’t want to waste too much water. We weren’t sure how much we would get or how long this would last!
We ended up needing that jug of water for just over 24 hours. We were never so happy to see running water when it was finally fixed. Of course, we could have just bathed outside in the rain because it rained pretty much non-stop.
Despite this, we tried to make the best of it. We ate lavish meals that we decided to stick to Sandals. We weren’t as bad as some of the other couples who were ordering bottles of Dom to stick it to Sandals even worse. We stayed at the Jalousie Hilton for four days and three nights.
It was on Wednesday of our week long honeymoon that Sandals sent a boat for us. It was faster to travel to the resort via the boat. Unfortunately, Sandals forgot to tell us and one other couple, and we missed the boat. We had to take a van to the other side of the island.
A driver came to pick us up and we drove up and down windy and terrifying roads. I have never had such horrible motion sickness. It was a scary drive I don’t wish to repeat. As we went through certain villages, the driver would instruct us to keep the doors locked, look straight ahead, etc. It was just plain awful.
When we finally arrived at Sandals St. Lucia, we were severely disappointed. The brochures had obviously been airbrushed extensively and the resort was buzzing the way a fraternity party would be, not a honeymooning resort. We were told we were given upgraded rooms, but they were directly above the DJ booth at the pool, which meant that the next morning we would be woken up to beer-chugging contests at 10 a.m. It wasn’t exactly the upgrade we were looking for.
Upon arrival we made an appointment to speak with the manager the next morning. We were livid about our treatment and wanted some answers and payment for all of the inconveniences.
That night, we ate dinner and then went dancing with our new friends from Boston. We had a pretty good time, but another set-back was just around the corner.
A few hours after arriving back at our room, I woke up alone in bed. There was no noise in the room and I had no idea where Mr. BBM had gone. I slowly crept around the room and found him in the bathroom. He was curled around the toilet, trying to keep cool on the tile floor. He had a fever and had apparently been sick with horrible food poisoning while I had been snoozing. He looked green.
Mr. BBM spent the night getting sick on and off, and was too weak to make it to Sandals "orientation" and our subsequent meeting with the manager. He told me to go. What else was I going to do? Sit there and watch him barf all day? So, I went to orientation alone and was immediately singled out because I was without my husband.
"Oh, your man had too much to drink last night, huh?" the obnoxious orientation leader asked me on his microphone in front of a crowd of about 30 couples. He was trying to embarrass me as he jutted the microphone out at me. I doubt he expected me to grab the microphone with such force.
"No, actually my husband is currently curled around the toilet not knowing which end of his body to put over the toilet because he got food poisoning shortly after eating at one of your crappy restaurants."
That shut him up.
I stormed across the resort to the manager’s office. The other forgotten couple and I sat there shooting visual daggers at the manager. His apology was not forthcoming and his only answer to our troubles was to offer us three free nights at the same crappy airbrushed resort, provided we pay for a total of seven nights and our own airfare. We all told him where he could stick that invitation and left. We obviously weren’t getting anywhere with him.
Our next visit was to the resort nurse, who gave Mr. BBM something that finally calmed his digestive tract down enough to function outside the bathroom. He spent all of Thursday and Friday feeling horrible, weak and still slightly nauseous.
On one of the evenings, we managed to get into the french restaurant on site. Most of the restaurants were booked solid since the people who had arrived earlier in the week booked up all the reservations. We were mostly stuck with the dregs.
We expected the french restaurant to be romantic and wonderful. It was anything but. Tables were stacked close enough that I had to watch my elbows when I ate. There was no privacy, no romance, only more disappointment and girls who appeared to be wearing prom gowns. It was like being stuck in a bad movie.
There were beer chugging contests at the break of dawn, dumpsters strewn about the property and the private beaches were anything but private. You had to be careful because there were people begging for money all over the beach. The beautiful hillside of the brochure was more like a mirage created by the artist who airbrushed it. It was anything but a relaxing honeymoon.
On our final day, we finally had a little bit of sun. I convinced Mr. BBM to take a kayak out into the Caribbean with me. He was still feeling sick. We rowed our kayak out into the sea. It was beautiful, but as we got out as far as we were comfortable going, the water got dark as did the clouds. And just like that, we were in the middle of a torrential downpour. We rowed back to shore, convinced that we had a big bad cloud following us everywhere we went.
When our plane touched down in our hometown, we were thrilled. I’ve never been so excited to go home. It was truly the honeymoon from hell.
The Morning from H E Double Hockey Sticks
This morning was Lil C’s second tumbling class. I don’t know why they schedule little kid classes at the crack of dawn, but they always do. I figured we could all deal with it one day a week. I figured wrong.
Big I whined and complained about having to get up. Lil C woke up screaming like there was a demon being exorcised from her body. Because I wanted this to be the day where she decided tumbling class was fun instead of Mommy’s new innovative way to torture her, I went into her room being the Mom I’ve always wanted to be.
"Good Morning Sunshine," I said with a big grin on my face.
"Not a good morning," Lil C spat back at me.
Cool.
She then pulled ridiculous fleece clothing from her drawers while I sat on her bed and gently suggested she wear the outfit I picked out for her. "I will not freak out. I will not freak out. I will not freak out" was my mantra.
"Do you need a hug this morning to squeeze out the ‘grumpies’?"
"Yes," she said. So I hugged her and then quickly dressed her before she realized I wasn’t letting her dress like it was December. She refused a pony in her hair so I figured we’d just work with the whole wild woman, Linda Blair theme she had going on and deal. Who needs nice combed hair to go tumbling anyway, right?
We arrived at tumbling and I was shocked that Lil C allowed me to take her shoes off. Last week, that was a 15 minute struggle. I thought this was going to work.
Wrong again.
The other little ones went right in and started jumping around. Lil C’s teacher took her hand and we shut the door behind her. Two seconds later she was at the door, staring out at me longingly and trying to open the door herself. The other kids may be learning tumbling, but my daughter is learning MacGuyver like door opening skills, because in only a few minutes, she was climbing onto my lap.
She spent the rest of the class refusing to go back in, while one of the other Mom’s talked me to like I was a first-timer. She’s one of those Mom’s, the kind that I’m not.
At the end of class, the teacher came out and told Lil C she could go in and play with Mommy on the mats. Lil C put her shoes on and said, "No, I’m going home."
I told Big I to go in there and show her little sister how it was done. The teacher told her to go in too. Always the good sport, Big I went in and stood at one end of the mat as the other two-year olds were doing perfect forward rolls. And then, she did what can only be described as violently throwing her forehead at the mat and almost paralyzing herself. The teacher decided Big I needed some serious help, so she went in and taught my 7-year old how to do a proper forward roll.
Meanwhile, Lil C held my hand and tried to lead me to the door.
When Big I came out of her quick tumbling lesson with the toddlers, she said, "Mommy, this just isn’t my thing."
Fabulous mornings like this are not going to help me become that Mom. To be completely honest, I’m not sure I’m capable of being that Mom anyway. It’s just not my thing.
The Honeymoon from Hell post will be continued later today or tomorrow morning. Are you sensing a theme for this week?
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???
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