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14
World Travelers
“I NEED ATTENTION from my husband!” Patricia cried. I mean literally cried. She was twenty-six weeks pregnant and bemoaning the condition of her body. And Ronda and I had just arrived back home from a harrowing two-week trip through Central America. All we wanted to do was collapse and recover.
“She’s not the only one, you know,” Anna growled.
Oh, shit. There was trouble in paradise.
“We haven’t abandoned you, sweet thing. We want to be home with you as much as you want us here,” Ronda said, holding Anna as I held Patricia.
“You know we aren’t actually lesbians. I love you and I love Patricia, but this steady diet of whining woman is getting on my nerves,” Anna said. Patricia just cried some more.
“Daddy, dance,” Toni said, puckering up to cry as well.
I tried to think back to Patricia’s first pregnancy. She was just entering the third trimester. Wow! That had been a chaotic time. It was prom and graduation and Anna becoming a fully sexual part of our family. My exhibition was open, I had to run to Chicago for shoots and to see Elizabeth. Yes, Patricia had seemed particularly needy during that time, but it was mitigated to some extent because we were all still in Tenbrook. Chris was still with us. Judy and Janice, Patricia’s best friends, were doting on her. And I was spending every Sunday afternoon photographing her, holding her, sleeping with her, massaging her… No wonder she was feeling abandoned.
“We’re all going to make it,” I said, pulling Toni, Ronda, and Anna into the embrace with Patricia and me. “Our next trip is all together in a Caribbean paradise. We won’t be traveling alone again until January. This has all been much harder than I thought it would be.”
“I’ll look like a whale on the beach. I shouldn’t have done this,” Patricia sobbed. “I shouldn’t have gotten pregnant until I knew we were stable and could handle the stress.”
“Shh, now. We all agreed and we’re all looking forward to having our new little sister in the family,” I said. Ronda and I had Anna, Patricia, and Toni sandwiched between us. “You just can’t imagine how much we love you and miss you when we’re gone.”
“But you have each other,” Anna whined.
“We do, but it might interest you to know that we’ve been too tired to do anything about it.”
“It didn’t help that I had my period right in the middle of this trip. Nate’s been listening to me bitch and moan most of the trip,” Ronda added.
“You don’t make love all the time?” Patricia asked.
“We don’t even come close to Anna’s ‘hardly ever.’” Anna had made that comment when we returned from a trip to Canada, to which she added ‘maybe once a day.’ “We’re doing more work now than we thought we’d be doing since the equipment is literally traveling as our luggage to keep it from being inspected. We have to train people, make sure the equipment and procedures are properly transferred, take pictures of the ambassadors and sometimes their staff, and bail our pilots out of jail.”
“What? What happened to your pilots?” Anna said.
“They refused to unlock the cargo compartment for inspection. Since the pilots carry a red passport instead of a black one, they were considered not exempt from legal penalties. The Ambassador in Nicaragua had to actually appear at the airport police station and demand their release and the release of our airplane so we could leave,” Ronda said.
“I don’t like you being in danger,” Patricia said. “I don’t think you should have to travel to dangerous countries.”
“The whole world is a dangerous place,” I said. “Even staying in Chicago can be dangerous.”
“Why don’t you dance with our little girl, while I hold our wives and tell them how much we love them,” Ronda said. “Then we can think about going to get some breakfast.”
I picked Toni up and started the music so we could dance around the room. She wanted to foxtrot so I spent a while bent double so she could make her feet do the steps. She was getting pretty good at it. I needed to expand her repertoire of dances.
We were really wiped, having not slept most of the night. We hadn’t gotten out of Guatemala until almost dark on Friday. We’d flown around Cuba to Miami as our port of entry, then north to DC. The secretary had arranged a credentialed courier who signed off on our packet about four o’clock Saturday morning, and then we turned and headed for Chicago.
Of course, at five-thirty in the morning, we couldn’t expect our wives to be up and waiting at Midway, so we caught a cab for the exorbitant fare of forty dollars to get us all the way up to Antioch and home. We hadn’t expected the tears when we walked through the door.
The whole trip had been chaotic. Our routing had to consider where the plane was coming from before we could determine where the next stop should be. We couldn’t fly directly from British Honduras to Guatemala because the two countries were practically at war with each other. Nor was it advisable to fly from Honduras to El Salvador because of the action of guerillas in the border mountains. So, we flew from British Honduras to Honduras to Nicaragua, where our plane was nearly impounded along with our pilots. Then it was on to Costa Rica and Panama before turning out to sea and flying up to El Salvador. Finally, we got to Guatemala and after the training there the pilots carefully navigated to the east coast between British Honduras and Honduras, then around Cuba to get to Miami. That whole region was just a jigsaw puzzle of pieces who hated each other.
I guessed South America might be even worse.
At least our Caribbean trip would be a little easier, I thought. Next week, I’d get all the shipments ready to go and they would be shipped to each embassy on a commercial transport. Then, since the whole family was going on this trip, we’d be flying commercial to San Juan, Puerto Rico. Our trip to the Caribbean was a known agenda, so the passport center had not sent their people for the training in Washington, DC. San Juan would be our base of operation and Ronda and I would mostly be making day trips from there to the five Caribbean consulates and embassies. We’d leave San Juan and spend a few days in Nassau in the Bahamas and fly home to Chicago on January 2.
I was getting tired, just thinking about it.
It was clear to Ronda and me that we needed to spend some real quality time with our wives. Anna and Patricia were clearly wearing thin. We spent all weekend just holding and helping them. At least the grass wouldn’t need to be mowed again until spring. I spent time in the little studio taking Patricia’s and Toni’s photos, then spent time in the darkroom with Anna as I processed the photos and printed a few.
Monday, we took Toni to school, but Ronda and I both took the day off from work for recovery and just did everything we could to care for our women. Tuesday, of course, Patricia was home alone. She dropped us at the train station and Anna, Ronda, and I went to work. We got an eye-opener when the work day ended. It was dark out. The sun had just been rising when we boarded the train in the morning. It had already set when we left the office in the afternoon at 4:30. To top that, there was an inch of fresh snow on the ground.
Right. I wouldn’t need to mow, but I would need to start shoveling as soon as we got home.
We spent the next three work days on the phone, shipping equipment and trouble-shooting installations. Mr. Martin assured us that we would have government transportation to each of our destinations in the Caribbean. Then we started scheduling our trips to South America. We’d be flying pretty long distances and coming home every weekend—or so we thought. Only two countries per trip, we were told. An embassy strategist consulted with us to set the schedule. Some of South America was in chaos. We got briefing documents that were to be left in our locked file cabinet in the office and not taken out of the office. The US had something of concern in just about every country south of the US, starting with Cuba to the military dictatorship in Brazil, to the socialist government in Chile. The expectation was a massive refugee problem.
The job wasn’t always scheduled so heavily that we couldn’t see our family. We’d had most of Thanksgiving week off and went to Tenbrook and Sage to visit our families. Kat and Julie had come back from Minnesota that week as well. Kat just wanted to hug Patricia’s tummy. She got Patricia to pose for her so she could do a sketch. She and Julie were both doing well in school, but had to turn around and drive back to Minneapolis the day after Thanksgiving.
I’d celebrated Patricia’s birthday with her in the way she loved most—naked in my studio. But we were going to be gone over Christmas and New Year’s. It was the first time any of us had spent Christmas away from our families. And the night before we left would be Anna’s twenty-third birthday.
Things evened out at home as we were able to spend more quality time together. Ronda’s spent most of our time on the phone to the offices we would be visiting on our long trip to the Caribbean, confirming that they had received the equipment and supplies and making sure our schedule was firmed up. I fielded or placed several calls to places where we’d already been to make sure my trainees and equipment were functioning the way they should. At three weeks, the Caribbean trip would be our longest trip so far. Thankfully, the family would all be together enjoying a sunny winter vacation.
It started going to hell about the time we woke up Saturday morning to go to the airport. Toni was sick. She was tired and cranky and throwing up.
“What are we going to do?” Patricia cried. “We can’t take her like this!”
“Shh,” I comforted Toni as I held her in my arms. It was five o’clock in the morning and the limo had just pulled up in front of the house to take us to the airport. “We’re going to go have fun in the sun on the beach, sweetie. You want to go swim in the ocean, don’t you?”
“Don’t want to swim on beach,” she sniffed.
“Well, let’s get in the limo and go to the airport so we can be ready when you feel better. You get to fly in an airplane like Daddy and Momma Ronda.”
“Don’t wanna fly.”
Of course, all week she’d been talking about flying to a beach and how excited she was. I had a feeling that was what her problem was this morning. The excitement had gotten to be too much. She didn’t feel hot or feverish, so I got the family out of the house and into the limo. I thought ahead far enough to take a couple of plastic bags and I needed one ten minutes after we left the house when Toni threw up again. There wasn’t much left in the little girl’s stomach.
Once we boarded the plane, I held her on my lap with Patricia beside me, looking out the window. I hadn’t realized it was the first time flying for her. Ronda kept Anna comforted across the aisle from us. Anna, at least, had flown to LA and back with me. Toni eventually passed out and slept all the way to Miami.
Not so, the rest of us. There was turbulence over the mountains in eastern Tennessee. Patricia gripped my arm hard enough to leave marks, and I thought she would need one of the airplane barf bags before we finally landed. Anna was looking a little green, too.
It was 10:30 when we got to Miami and we had time for breakfast, finally. The turbulence had curtailed any food service on the three-hour flight. I didn’t dare even have a cup of coffee for fear I’d spill on the little one. Neither Patricia nor Anna could even look at the breakfast menu on the plane and Ronda passed, out of consideration for our wives. We had oatmeal in the airport restaurant, hoping that would settle stomachs all the way around. I drank three cups of coffee.
We caught our flight to San Juan, Puerto Rico at one o’clock and landed before four. I was used to carting around a fair amount of luggage when I traveled with my cameras, but making sure we had all the bags for five people loaded on a luggage cart and out to catch our shuttle bus to the hotel was an extra complication.
We were so exhausted by the time we checked in that we all just wanted to collapse in bed. Of course, that’s when Toni woke up.
She was hungry and wanted to see the ocean and the beach. She had a hundred questions about the hotel because our suite was different than the hotel in Tenbrook, which was her only comparison. I reminded her of the hotel in Windsor where the desk clerk always gave her a sucker and she wanted to know why the desk clerk here hadn’t given her one. She was a ball of energy after having slept all day and was ready to do everything at once, no matter how tired we all were.
Our hotel was not quite on Condado Beach, but we were only a block away and could see the blue water from our balcony window. We all shed our winter clothes and put on lightweight summer clothes before going downstairs and out to explore. We had to remind Toni that we weren’t going in the ocean to swim today because it was too late. She was comforted, though, when she got to wiggle her toes in the sand, and then we found a restaurant for dinner.
Of course, Toni had difficulty going to sleep. Guess who drew baby duty as my wives all crashed in bed. I told stories to Toni and danced with her until after ten.
We managed to sleep late on Sunday as Toni played quietly in her room, reading stories to her stuffed fox, Reynard. Aunt Addi had helped her choose a name. We all felt considerably better when we went to the hotel restaurant for Sunday brunch, and then dressed for an afternoon on the beach. There had been a trace of rain early in the morning, but the streets weren’t even damp by the time we left the hotel. Ronda and Anna both had nice shorts and tops on over their swimsuits. Patricia wore a sundress that was tight around her bust and then flared out over her pregnant tummy.
The day was warm—hot, in terms of Chicago. It was around 85 degrees. There were a lot of people on the beach and when Toni wanted to play in the water, I was right beside her. She hadn’t learned to swim yet and I wasn’t going to let go of her with her little floaties on. Anna came out to join me in a nice one-piece suit. I wore a T-shirt with my trunks. I wasn’t going to risk getting sunburned, and I was watching Toni carefully. When we got back to our beach blanket, Ronda was lying on her stomach in a tiny bikini with the straps undone and off her back. Patricia was under a beach umbrella with her skirt pulled up to her waist and a colorful bikini bottom on. I thought it was a swimsuit, but the more I looked at it—and it was hard not to look—the more I started thinking it was just a pair of colorful panties.
After I’d kissed each of my wives, Toni and I settled down to build a sand castle. I made sure she was covered up, though. After we’d been on the beach a couple of hours, we picked up our things, dressed in our walking clothes, and went back to the hotel. A lot of things in San Juan were closed, but we managed to find dinner and eventually had our first loving night on the family vacation.
It wasn’t terribly far from our hotel to the passport agency, but Ronda and I took a taxi as soon as we’d finished breakfast. We didn’t want to take any more time here than we had to. We were met by the local director of operations and Ronda presented an envelope from Mr. Martin. We were given a brief tour and were taken to the conference room we’d use for training. I was surprised that ten people showed up for the training.
“We’ll all be called upon at one time or another to step into the position,” the director said. “Better to be trained on it in advance.”
I had to agree with his assessment and we started the training. It went smoothly, but took longer than we’d anticipated simply because there was only one unit and ten people to train on it. Eventually, we got everyone to a level we considered competent to operate the system and we handed out certificates. This was something new we’d decided on before we did our Central America tour. We were carrying a packet of blank certificates and Ronda filled one out for each student, which I signed. Then we had a photo session and Ronda took my picture handing the certificate to and shaking hands with each trainee. We’d decided to give each of them an official certification as a Department of State Passport ID Operator.
We finally got back to the hotel at almost four o’clock. Anna and Patricia had taken Toni back to the beach during the day and then spent part of the afternoon shopping and exploring. They returned soon after we got back.
Having Ronda and me back at the hotel for dinner and the evening helped to relieve some of the parental stress that both Anna and Patricia were under, watching Toni in a strange city. But early the next morning, Ronda and I were at the airport for our flight to Santo Domingo in the Dominican Republic. It was a smaller plane than either of us had ever flown before. It had two propellers and a single seat on each side of a short aisle, with just six rows. Ronda and I could sit facing each other across a table.
There was just one pilot for this plane, but it still had a stewardess, who we soon discovered was also the copilot. Francis and Danielle introduced themselves and were very cordial. Ronda and I were the only passengers. The flight was an hour and a half, and we were met at the plane by a car that took us directly to the embassy.
Ronda delivered the packet she carried to the ambassador and we set to work training the two people who would operate the equipment at the embassy. It went pretty fast and after the training, presentation of certificates, and photos, we met with the ambassador again for his formal portrait. He gave a packet to Ronda for delivery back in Washington, DC, then we headed back to the airport.
“If you’d like a drink on the way back, I’ll be happy to get you one,” Danielle said. “I don’t know your preferences, but if you give me a list, I’ll have the right things in store for you tomorrow. I understand this week is all fairly short hops, but this one is the shortest. We don’t have much of a galley, but I can get packaged meals and make drinks.”
“We’re going to have a really long day tomorrow,” Ronda said. “How far is Jamaica?”
“Close to four hours. We’ll land in Port au Prince Haiti to refuel. What time would you like to leave? I’ll make sure Francis is up to speed.”
“Oh, gee. Four hours means we should get out of San Juan by five or five-thirty,” I said. “Is it possible to have coffee?”
“Absolutely. I’ll make sure we have some breakfast rolls at least,” Danielle said. “The plane is yours for the next two weeks, so we’ll stock it with whatever you want.”
“I don’t need any drink today, but I’m sure a drink would taste good on the flight back tomorrow,” I said. Ronda asked for white wine and I agreed.
We all knew Wednesday was going to be a long day, so Anna and Patricia were prepared to function completely alone until we got back that night. The least time we could possibly be gone door-to-door was fourteen hours, and more likely sixteen. We’d need to sleep on the plane at least part of the time and Danielle promised to pick up dinner for us in Kingston.
We were at the airport at five and the plane was in the air at five-thirty. We didn’t anticipate any problems entering Jamaica as we were both flying with black passports and only carried Ronda’s diplomatic pouch and my Zero Halliburton camera case. It wasn’t a problem as we were met at the plane by a car to take us to the embassy. Once we were off the plane, though, Francis and Danielle had to pass customs or else sit on the plane all day. It was a cursory check and they managed just fine. They had the burgundy or red passports that identified government contractors. It was just a step below our black passports.
We went directly to training when we arrived and discovered our students were pretty laid back about everything. I guess that’s the way it is in Jamaica. The nice part was that they took a break for lunch and we got to have Ackee and Saltfish. We were told it was the national dish of Jamaica and no visit was complete without it. Of course, that put us an hour longer for our training and we only got our students back in the classroom by telling them we had to catch our plane.
Before we could do that, though, we had to meet with the ambassador, deliver his envelope, accept his missive to the Secretary of State, and take his formal portrait. Finally, we were hustled back out to the airport and onto our plane about four-thirty.
We gratefully accepted our wine once we were airborne and had a nice chat with Danielle. She told us she’d picked up a bottle of Jamaican rum and we really needed to try it on one of our trips. We agreed.
“Francis and I contract with the government,” she said. “We got together a couple of years ago when I was playing in the islands. He just loves to fly this plane and gigs like ferrying you two around pay for a lot of living down here.”
We had a nice meal of jerked chicken sandwiches and then snoozed as night fell. We got back to the hotel and our family about nine, and all slept as soon as we hit the bed.
We were off on Thursday, but Friday, we were traveling back to Port au Prince, Haiti for our last appointment of the week. All the embassies down here had an emphasis on issuing visas as there weren’t so many American citizens they needed to worry about like there were in places like Mexico.
After Haiti, we had three blissful days in Puerto Rico to just be tourists. We rented a car to visit Ponce and went to museums, then spent the day at the beach in Puerto Nuevo. Then we had our own special family Christmas on Monday and made phone calls to each of our families back in Tenbrook and Sage. Toni was excited to tell all her grammas and grampas about Perico and how she swam in the ocean and could float.
Toni was also enthused that Santa had arrived and found her even in Perico, as she said. There weren’t many presents, but we told Toni that Santa had probably left things at home for her, too.
Our next two stops would be the longest on this trip. We weren’t going to be home as we trained at our farthest Caribbean embassies. Trinidad was an hour ahead of us on Atlantic Standard time. It was not as far from San Juan as Jamaica, but we still stopped to refuel in Barbados. Fortunately, all we carried was the camera case, the diplomatic pouch, and an overnight bag with both of our clothes in it.
A car picked us up to take us to a hotel near the embassy. It was close to a forty-minute drive from the airport to the hotel downtown. We got a nice meal and spent the evening sitting on our balcony looking at the sea.
We got to the embassy when it opened in the morning. The ambassador asked to get his picture before we started training as he was going to be gone most of the day. Ronda gave him his envelope and I got his picture. We still got to the passport and visa room by nine. This group was well-organized and we would be training in the actual room they planned to have the equipment set up in. It made everything much easier as we got things set up just as they would be using them.
When we finished, we were taken by an embassy driver back to the airport and Francis and Danielle got us settled and off to Bridgetown, Barbados. Danielle had a very good packaged meal she’d gotten at the airport for us and prepared cocktails for us using the Jamaican rum. Once we got to Barbados, Francis and Danielle hitched a ride with us to the Radisson Hotel, which was right on the beach. Ronda and I sat on our balcony well into the evening, just enjoying the peace and quiet, and eventually having a little loving. I kind of thought that was what Francis and Danielle were up to, as well.
In the morning, an embassy car picked us up and drove all the way across town to the embassy. This was a busy place. The embassy in Barbados was also responsible for diplomatic relations with four other islands, but there was no formal consulate on them. As it happened, an attaché traveling back and forth between Barbados and Martinique was at the ambassador’s office. He asked for a lift to Martinique on our way back in the afternoon. Then I trained the operators for the equipment and we went out to catch our ride to the airport. The attaché, Mr. McMahon, was waiting for us at the car.
“Out here, we take advantage of any free ride we can catch,” McMahon said. “Once I actually had to catch a ride on a yacht headed this way. It took an entire day to get here, but the fishing was good.”
“Well, welcome aboard. It’s only about a two-hour flight, so we’ll get you home before dinner,” I said.
“Ronda, perhaps I could take you to dinner tonight as a thank you.”
“Oh, Nate and I would love to join you,” she said.
“Ah. Well, I was thinking… I forgot I have an appointment soon after we land. We’ll have to take a raincheck,” he said.
That bastard was trying to put the make on my girlfriend. We encouraged him to take whatever seat he wanted and then sat together a couple of rows back. I think he turned right around and tried to put the make on Danielle.
We got free of him at the airport and after we were refueled got back in the air.
“Can you believe the balls on that guy?” Danielle said as she sat across the aisle from us. “I know he was eying you, Ronda. But when you sat back farther, he decided I was his personal servant. He even suggested I give him a blowjob right there!”
“I was ready to push him out the door over open water,” Francis said. “You sure have an even temper, Nate.”
“Ronda shut him down pretty quickly,” I said. “So, is this our last leg with you or will you be our transport to Nassau on Friday?”
“Yes, but that’s where we’ll leave you,” Francis said. “We’ll miss you.”
“You’ve made our travels as pleasant as possible,” I said, “but we’re eager to pick up the rest of our family in San Juan and have the holiday to relax in Nassau.”
“Oh? How many are we carrying?” Francis asked.
“Two more women and a four-year-old,” I said. “And, of course, our luggage.”
“I think we have two other passengers to Nassau scheduled, so we’ll have a full flight. We’ll stop for refueling at Providenciales. Maybe we can get together over the weekend. New Year’s is a great party in Nassau.”
We agreed to that.
Friday morning, we met Francis and Danielle at the airport and got everything loaded.
Shortly, we met Mr. and Mrs. Discobbolos.
“I’m so happy to meet you, Mr. Hart, Miss May. And this your family? Charmed. I wonder if we might have a chat on our way to Nassau?”
“Of course,” I said. “Are you with the State Department?”
“Yes, indeed. I’m an envoy. I’ve been doing several trips somewhat parallel to yours and I will have a document or two to send with you when you head for Washington next week. I’m John, by the way. This is my wife Marcia.”
“Happy to meet you, John and Marcia.” We shook hands all the way around and we introduced Patricia, Anna, and Toni. When we were airborne, Danielle presented us with coffee and sweet rolls. She even had juice and milk for Toni. John sat across from Ronda and me and reached across the aisle to share our table.
“Have you been to Nassau before? No? It’s a lovely place and just at this time it is in the midst of great change. The Commonwealth of the Bahama Islands is a British protectorate, so we have no direct embassy there. It is handled, like most of the Caribbean, by the embassy in Barbados. That will change soon. Since the establishment of full self-governance, a timetable has been set for the Bahamas to become fully independent this summer.”
“Is this likely to be a problem for us? If my family is in danger here, we’ll simply continue straight back to the US when we land,” I said firmly.
“No, it won’t be a problem. There is no revolutionary war. I understand Prince Charles will be here to hand over the commonwealth to the native governor. The Bahamas have always had a pivotal role out here, at one time as a refuge and base for piracy, and later as a refuge for escaped and freed slaves. I’m afraid it may be a port of call for illegal drug trafficking from South America to the United States,” John said. “That’s why I’m being sent to Nassau. I’ll be meeting with representatives of both the Bahamian government and the British government to get things rolling for immediate recognition of the independent nation by the US and establishment of an embassy so we can work together to monitor and control the traffic.”
“It sounds like a big job,” Ronda said. “Are you working on it alone?”
“Not quite. Marcia is officially my assistant as well as my wife. I understand the roles are not much different than yours and Nate’s.”
“We’re planning on just having a restful vacation over the New Year holiday before we head home,” I said.
“And it should be. The government in Nassau recognizes that its major trade in the near future, as it has been for several years now, is tourism. A dozen cruise ships a week dock at Nassau and Freeport is a major casino town. Paradise Island has the clearest water and whitest sand beaches in the world. You can see the seafloor in water as much as two hundred feet deep. We just need to make sure organized crime doesn’t get a foothold here as it did in Cuba in the twenties. And that’s where I hope to make use of your services.”
“In what way?” I asked, cautiously.
“The New Year’s celebration is called Junkanoo and starts right after midnight. Even if you decide to stay in your hotel room—which I don’t advise—you will hear the celebration. It lasts most of the day and is marked by parades and music and costumes. I’d like to invite you to join me for a breakfast at the British Colonial Hotel at eleven the next morning. I will be hosting Prime Minister Lynden Pindling and Lord Thurlow, the British Governor of the Commonwealth. It is to be an informal sit-down, but as these things go, there is a fair amount of protocol that will be observed and the meal will not be simple. I’d like you to function as our official photographer. I was informed by your boss, Mr. Martin, that you do function in that role.”
“Yes, of course. Ronda, do we have any limitations that would prevent us from being the official photographer?” I asked.
“I don’t believe so, though we should probably make a call to Mr. Martin as soon as we land, just so we’re all up to speed.”
“Excellent,” John said. “I apologize for infringing on what would be a well-earned vacation day, and a holiday to boot, but this will show the US is a serious partner with both the British and the Bahamians as they move toward full independence.”
We stopped briefly at Providenciales airport on Turks/Caicos Islands to refuel and were off again.
It was still early when we landed in Nassau, and went to the Sheraton British Colonial Hotel, right in the heart of the city. But even there, we could look out our window on the hotel’s private beach and the crystal clear turquoise water below. Ronda made the call to our boss and he confirmed he had been contacted and that the film should come with us back to the State Department for processing. Then he wished us a Happy New Year, and we were officially off the clock.
Nassau was fantastic. The first thing Toni wanted, of course, was to head to that beautiful beach, right out the door of the hotel. The sand was pure white and the water was incredible. It was peaceful and calm where we were and we all just floated in the shallows. Then we showered and dressed to go out for dinner.
We didn’t do anything fancy, but we got a sampling of some of the traditional Bahamian food. Toni just loved the fruits: mango, pineapple, and coconut. She’d have made a complete meal out of that if she hadn’t tasted the chicken in a bag we picked up from a local street vendor.
Saturday, we went to thoroughly explore our island paradise. Cruise ships came in to dock at the piers just a hundred yards or so from our hotel and people flooded into the streets of Nassau. Street kids had all kinds of ‘souvenirs’ to sell—mostly shells—and some kids in the water would dive for coins tossed over the sides of the ships. We wandered into the straw market and all bought big straw hats to protect us from the sun. Toni got a cute little doll made of straw as well.
The hit of the day was the fresh market. Toni had already established her love of pineapple and when we pointed out the vendor in the market who was selling whole pineapples she was fascinated. The old guy was friendly and we told him Toni had just discovered pineapple and how much she liked them.
He pulled out a pineapple and held it up to Toni.
“You know how to eat, Leetle Girl? Ol’ Pap show you.”
He pulled out his machete and in half a dozen strokes had cleared the fruit of all the outer spines and skin. Then he stuck a wooden pick in the bottom and showed Toni how to hold it by the leaves on one end and the stick on the other, then to just start eating it.
We all sat on the harbor wall, watching the ships, and sharing Toni’s pineapple. What a mess! I admit, I have never tasted a sweeter treat, nor one that was juicier. The sticky juice was all over our faces and arms and clothes. We walked back to the hotel, careful not to touch anything, and took turns in the shower. We put on our swimwear and went to the beach to play in the water and the sand.
We were mindful of all the warnings to rest up on Sunday because everyone would be up all night. We did our best, but adjusting a little girl’s sleep time for an all-night party is a difficult thing to do. Fireworks over the harbor, shot off by the various cruise ships at midnight, announced the beginning of 1973. Toni woke up.
“Daddy! Boom!” she screeched, holding her hands over her ears. I carried her to the window looking over the harbor and she was suddenly wide awake and clapping at the colors and explosions in the air. She didn’t like the loud noises, but the pretty colors made up for it.
Since we were all up by that time, we got dressed and joined the thousands of people on the street for the parades. I’d heard of events like Mardi Gras in New Orleans. I think one of the James Bond movies I’d seen had a big costumed parade with lots of music. But this was ten times more intense, being right in the midst of it. Musicians played drums, cowbells, and brass instruments. The dancers and musicians both wore elaborate colorful costumes. I was told that people worked on their costumes all year for the Junkanoo on Boxing Day and on New Year’s Day. It was a contest among locals to see who could have the best costumes, dances, and music. We really couldn’t keep ourselves from dancing along with the crowd.
As much fun as it was, Toni was ready to resume her interrupted sleep by around three and the rest of us agreed that was a good idea. We could still hear some of the music in our room, but none of the window-shaking fireworks were exploding at this hour.
We didn’t realize the festival would continue all day on Monday! When we got out to find food at almost noon, there were still parades and dancing in the streets. It was almost more amazing to see the costumes in the daylight than it had been at night.
After we’d taken as much as we could, we headed for the almost deserted beach at the hotel and spent most of a quiet afternoon playing there.
Marcia called our room that evening to make sure we knew that our whole family was invited to attend the breakfast in the morning and she would help spot photo opportunities for me. After coffee and fruit when we got up in the morning, we all got cleaned up to go to the hotel banquet room reserved for the ‘informal’ breakfast.
It was not what I would call informal. There were five tables set with white tablecloths and silver. Our family was split up among three different tables with Patricia, Toni, and me at one, Anna at one, and Ronda at one. We were seated with other members of the families of the principal guests. And of course, both the British Governor and the Prime Minister brought their families and those of a couple select advisers.
The meal was exquisite, served by gentlemen in butler uniforms with white gloves. Marcia was also at my table and kept pointing out places where I should take a photo. Each time I got up with my camera, Ronda rushed to my side to make notes and take exposed rolls of film to mark and drop in her bag.
The big difference between this event and many of the others were that these pictures were all casual. There were no posed portraits or formal handshakes among the dignitaries. I photographed them at the table, each with a family member next to him. In John’s case, Anna took Marcia’s place so Marcia could direct me to photo ops. So, there were pictures of all three men, but they weren’t seen in private conversations or agreements.
In addition to the photos and enhancing the American Delegation, which would have only been Marcia and John without my family there, we ate a splendid breakfast that always seemed to have one more thing coming to the table. Toni expressed her pleasure when the mango and pineapple salad arrived.
“I’m not feeling well,” I said, Tuesday evening. I really didn’t need to get sick the night before we left the Bahamas and headed back to Chicago. But the stomach cramps were severe. I kept running to the toilet. About eight o’clock in the evening, when I couldn’t stand up straight to dance with Toni before bed, Ronda called the front desk and half an hour later, the hotel doctor arrived at our door. Yeah, a hotel this size has a doctor on call at all hours, I guess.
He came into our bedroom and poked and prodded at my stomach, listened with a stethoscope, and hmm’d a lot.
“Gastritis,” he said, finally. “Too much of our good Bahamian food. Did you drink a lot?”
“No. We really didn’t have much to drink,” I said. “I guess we had a lot of food we weren’t used to.”
“Here. Take this. It will help to settle your stomach and intestines. You’ll be fine by the time you reach America tomorrow.”
I wasn’t sure about traveling. I was alternating bouts of vomiting and diarrhea. I took it and it seemed to help, but the cramps were still pretty intense. Anna read the medicine bottle pretty thoroughly and decided it was basically Maalox.
In the morning, I was still cramping, though I wasn’t running to the toilet non-stop.
“I’m not sure I can fly in this condition,” I said. “I might need to stay another day until it passes.”
“Oh, you’ll be okay,” Patricia said. “Once you get moving and in the air, you’ll settle right down. You’re probably just letting down after all the adrenaline rush of being on the road for two and a half weeks.”
I eventually agreed and we got to the airport in plenty of time for our flight to Miami. It took me a long time to realize that Patricia had simply adapted my own words about Toni when we were headed out.
It was basically a long miserable trip home. At least we didn’t need to go to DC to deliver our package. Ronda would be met at the office Thursday morning by a courier who would take our materials to the Bureau secretary.
When we finally arrived home in Antioch, I really couldn’t stand up without help. I was burning up with a fever and doubled over with cramps. Anna took charge, bless her heart. I didn’t even know what we were doing when she loaded me into the car and we headed for the nearest hospital emergency room.
About a quarter after midnight, I was rolled into an operating room where the nice doctors removed my appendix.
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
