I’ve been told I’m a gifted writer, great with wordsmithing and a fantastic storyteller. What I’m horrible about is reading signs. Signs of Life: Can You Read Them? I sure as hell can’t!
Don’t believe me?
Exhibit A: I can count on my hands the number of times that a girl I was attracted to, flirted with, and understood I had a connection with, that I didn’t act on the impulse of the signs she was giving me… only to find out from her, she wanted me too.
Exhibit B: The Universe loves to warn me about dangerous activities, and choices I’m making. Repeatedly, I ignore the signs. Rather, I can’t read the #signsoflife – it’s true.
The Boatyard In Barbados
This’ll be no shock but I was once married. The marriage ended in divorce, but it was a relationship that shouldn’t have existed in the first place. Perhaps it’s to serve me as a reminder to watch for these signs early on in new relationships, so I can get the hell out!
Here’s a story … several couples including us booked a Caribbean Cruise. Charlene found online a beautiful beach area on Barbados called “the Boatyard” for all of us to enjoy. We all motored out there for fun, sun, and surf. The admission fee granted a complimentary drink, use of the non-motorized sports (sea trampoline and climbing iceberg), chair and an umbrella.
A couple hours in my bro, (Scott) and I were getting, as he put it, shipwrecked with buckets of Corona. Charlene laughed, “It was almost a Corona commercial.” My body was aching from yesterday’s adventure but Scott suggested the sea trampoline was reachable even for me. I swim slightly better than a brick. So I quipped, I’ll try it later.
[fast forward to later] Charlene knows my swimming abilities, or rather lack thereof. I told her my intentions and to watch for me. I waded out as far as I could then launched into what I called swimming. I’m thinking, What the hell am I doing out here? I grab a hold of the ladder to climb. As I climbed a wave racked the trampoline, my ring finger gets caught on the side of the ladder, my wedding ring slips off and into the ocean. OMGWTF?! Neko, the Boatyard attendant, saw this from top of the sea trampoline. Tears instantly welled up in my eyes. It’s gone. Simply gone. He immediately calmed me down and assured me, that we’ll find it. I thought, Yeah right. That’s all you, guy.
Thankfully there’s a Baywatch-red-floating device tethered to the trampoline. I ask to borrow it, and for 30 minutes I attempted to recover it. Neko explained what to do to ensure our best chance of success.
After 30 minutes, I declare defeat. My arms, legs, and lungs are mush. I ask him if he’ll at least hold his position while I get my wife and friend. He instructs me to grab a complimentary snorkel set in the SCUBA shop after I drag my sorry-oh-so-very-sorry self onshore. I make the defeated march to Charlene and Scott.
I announce that I am in trouble. I would be grateful for their help to locate my wedding ring … About 20 seconds into my explanation Charlene and Scott jump up, and immediately make their way to the trampoline.
I quickly walk to the shop to grab the snorkel gear. Once I return to the shoreline with gear in hand, I was ordered by Charlene to return to get a life jacket, too. By the time I got situated like an overprotected 5 year old with lifejacket and snorkel gear, it was too late.
My wife and friend were wading back and waving me off. Neko had found it after an hour plus searching. I sigh in relief, “Thank God for him!” Of course, he wouldn’t accept money. The sheer act of gratitude was enough for him.
He mumbled something about needing a drink. No doubt! I aged about 20 years and needed a drink, a smoke and perhaps some Valium myself. We walked into the bar with my snorkel gear in hand, bright orange life jacket on. Now to truly appreciate this scene, imagine a 6’3 or so bald, black man built like Arnold Schwarzenegger in a wetsuit standing next to me. Quite a scene!
I announce to the bartender Neko’s money is no good here today. Or at least right now. Neko ordered an iced tea, New York style. As did I. He wanted a pack of smokes; no problem. He chatted me up for a bit. I say out loud that Neko is my new hero. The local bar flys laughed.
I left him with another Long Island and a hand shake. As I walked toward the door, 2 scantily clad hourglass bodied women brush past. They yell, “Neko, you’re still our hero!” Needless to say, I plopped myself in a chair on the beach with my wedding ring for the remainder of the excursion
If I heeded that experience as a sign of trouble ahead, I probably wouldn’t have this story to tell.
So, Spaceship Earth, The Signs of Life: Can You Read Them? Or are you as bad at it as I am? Lemme know!
Until then, I’m out.