So the adventure started inauspiciously enough. Packed and ready to go we piled into the Planet Killer and headed off to the airport. We scanned our passports, checked our bags and headed for TSA. Where we were informed that Mrs. Hardy's passport was invalid. WHAT?! The kind TSA agent stated, "I'm not kidding. This passport is invalid." Turns out Mrs. Hardy just forgot to sign it. Woot! Off we go to the gate. Where we find all the restaurants are closed and our flight has been delayed by an hour and 20 minutes. WHAT?! Yeah, I didn't check the flight time for the first time in my life and so we spent several looooooong hours in the SeaTac airport. I don't wait well. Mrs. Hardy is even worse. SeaTac airport doesn't have free WiFi. I don't know what that's about. The flight crew strongly encouraged everyone to rapidly take their seats and get settled so that those with connecting flights in Dallas (that would be us.) would be able to make them. Unfortunately, the OCD douchebag a few rows in front of us didn't get that memo, or he was deaf, or just deep in the throes of an OCD moment, because he got up and got into his bag in the overhead compartment OPPOSITE his seat no less than 4 times. The last time he got up I put my face into Mrs. Hardy's shoulder and viciously whispered 'motherfucker" over and over until he sat the hell back down. Our two hour layover in Dallas turned into a mad dash for the train and an interminable ride across from some little chick with iPod headphones and a rocker face doing the mambo in her seat which got us to the gate just in time to get on the jetway. Woot, woot!
While waiting in the Miami airport (are you aware that they have like 1 bathroom in the whole airport and it's not clearly marked? Is it a CIA project or something) we discovered that I had lost my Ativan. True. I lost it. In an airplane. Really. I know I'm a TFM patient and that when most of that patient base "loses" a medication it is usually on eBay, the park across the street or down their significant others' gullet, but I really lost it. It fell out of my purse. Really. My doctor is never going to believe me. And the "free" WiFi advertised in the Miami airport is a big fat LIE. Bastards! Which is why this is all delayed blogging. We landed on the Grand Cayman and were hit with a wall of heat/humidity that put Mrs. Hardy into near orgasmic throes of ecstasy and reminded me of why I got the hell out of North Carolina. After going through customs (where Mrs. Hardy informs me that she couldn't understand a word they were saying so she just nodded. Please bail us out of jail when the time comes.)we slogged our way to the Thrifty car rental place. By this time there was some wet denim chafing going on. We picked up our car
It's a freakin' gocart! No matter, it's a nice change of pace from the planet killer. The Caymans are a British Overseas Colony so left side driving is observed here. To remind myself not to kill us both I spend a lot of time saying/yelling "Left side, left side." Or the more succicint: "LEFT!" So far not even a close call. Go me. We have a gorgeous ocean view room and spent our first hours with our toes in the sand
Around dinnertime I convinced Mrs. Hardy to walk to the Lone Star Bar and Grill, "It's just a little bit down the road here." More like 2-3 miles. In the dark. It gets freakin dark, freakin' fast around here. She was whimpering about being dragged off into the bushes and "what the hell is that noise." and I kept saying, "We're fine, those are cicadas, just keep walking." My philosophy is often keep moving and nothing can catch up to you. The alarm will go off very early tomorrow, this is a working vacation after all, and so I'll have to bid adieu for now