Contemplating a cruise always brings up our first-ever trip to Jamaica. Ken had won a trip, alongside other guys and wives who were building houses (this was before everything melted down in 2008). We climbed onto a big plane to Miami. I still remember the couple in front of us, 10:00 in the morning. Giggling and ready to party, they managed three beers apiece before we even got to our destination. The flight home was a far different sight.
I clung tightly to Ken's elbow. My only other flight had been to New York City, where the turbulence resembled a corkscrew in the sky. He said, "If we crash, I'm gonna need that arm back."
We had a fantastic time, feeding stingrays on Stingray Island and snorkeling with colorful fish. But when we got to our excursion in Jamaica, my knee decided to act up. We were supposed to climb a set of massive falls (Dunn River Falls), where groups of people helped one another not to fall to their deaths. There were steps and landing spots to the left side of the water, so I opted to use them instead of slip-sliding my way to certain knee surgery.
As I climbed up, I got far ahead of the folks navigating the actual falls. Ken was doing his usual gentlemanly part, helping everyone up the precarious rocks. I came to a large landing deck, where I was quite alone and also close to the end of the excursion. A large man with an official-looking uniform came up to the platform. He asked me if I wanted to party. I politely said no thank you. Then he asked me if I'd like some rum. He rhapsodized about the different kinds of rum he could treat me to. Then he asked if I'd like some home-grown herbs to smoke. I repeatedly told him that I was not interested, and that I was simply waiting on my husband. He seemed to not believe me, and began tugging on my arm and trying to pull me from the platform. I was literally about to start screaming when I looked down and saw our group coming into sight. I gesticulated wildly as I pointed out my beefy husband to the uniformed crazy man. He decided to run away rather than take his chances with Ken Norton, Neanderthal hunk man that he is.
At dinner that night, we told the story and a couple at our table said, "That's why we didn't get off the boat today." They had gone on a similar cruise the year before, having a similar story to ours. The husband climbed the falls while the wife worked her way up the steps and platforms. Instead of a man approaching, a little Jamaican woman came up to her and offered to braid her hair for a cheap price. For some strange reason, she decided to do it. The lady led her down a little path to a hut nearby. She chatted while she braided her hair, telling her that her husband would be told where she was (if he got through before she did).
Meanwhile, the husband arrived at the end of the excursion, with no wife in sight. There was, however, a large man waiting there. He told the husband that if he wanted to see her again, he had to give him $5000.00. The husband said, "My money's on the boat!" to which the kidnapper said he would gladly take the husband's Rolex watch instead. In shock, and not really thinking clearly, he took off the watch. The kidnapper grabbed it, pointed down a trail and said that his wife was down there, and dashed away in the opposite direction. The husband instinctively ran down the trail, to find his wife sitting alone in the hut.
I don't know if Mr. Uniform had similar notions, but it's possible. I've often thought about the scenario and what I would have done, had he succeeded in pulling me off that landing. Firstly, it's always smart to never find yourself alone in foreign places, and secondly, it's probably a good idea to at least pretend to faint. I've tried lugging a floppy body around and it never goes well. Don't ask...
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