It all started in August of 1994. My friend and I were gearing up for our end of the summer vacation, both of us recently “broken” from a relationship. Armed with resolve to have a girls only vacation of sun, fun, and serious beach time, we vowed before we booked our tickets to definitely NOT get involved in any vacation romances.
I should have known better. The first night of our trip, which began on that infamous “bus” ride to Negril, we finally got to our room completely exhausted. Looking at each other at about 11:00 p.m., we figured ourselves to be really lame and definitely has-beens if we didn’t get up and go out for some drinks and night time open-air dancing. Out of the barely-there shower, we were ready to roll by about 11:30. “Flash,” my friend on the trip, was in rare form. Very sociable for someone who is normally very shy. She flitted this way and that around the club (De Buss, of course!) chatting along the way with everyone.
Before I knew it, after the first round, second round, and third round of already tiresome come-on lines from the local men, she dragged this poor tired looking dread over to me for an introduction. Chatting politely was about all I could do by that time, and I begged of her to go back to the room for the night. She was having too much fun and none of that.
The chatting continued with Mr. Dread, and by about 4:00 a.m., Flash was the one who wanted to drag ME home. I begged for just a little more time to talk.
Long story short, those ten days in Jamaica were the best in my life–exactly one year later and several trips back to Negril, Mr. Dread and I were married. We now live in Orlando, FL…happily ever after.