Red-Eye

* Underlying Issues Series

I forgot my earbuds, which was ironic since I spent 2 ½ hours on video calls on the day of departure about the dangers of the constant distractions of technology. We were taking the red-eye to Miami, so I needed to sleep rather than watch Insta reels anyway. My wife offered me lavender spray to put on my wrists to help me relax. We’ve been married 27 years, and she still loves me enough to waste her breath with that offer.

Our seats backed up to the bulkhead which cost us that glorious two inches of recline that might have facilitated sleep. I eventually emerged from my groggy, uncomfortable head bobbing and got pretty excited about watching a sunrise from 35k feet. After a cold-water sink splash and a Peet’s in the airport, the terror about losing a night of sleep gave way to something different with the plane from Miami over the shallow waters of the Caribbean in January. The transition was like whiplash without the neck brace.

I don’t know if what I felt was peacefulness, since I’m unfamiliar, so let’s use what feels like a watered-down descriptor like contentment. My feet were in the cool, off-white sand as I watched the Atlantic waves gently lap the shore. It was a few ambient degrees over 70 with a noticeable breeze, and the sun warmed my skin through a wispy cloud layer. I was keenly aware that any combination of a one-degree drop in temperature, a slightly stiffer wind, or a minor thickening of the clouds, and the glorious warmth would have turned uncomfortably chilly. I was on the razor’s edge of bliss, and the tenuousness of it all was not lost on me.

I was overwhelmed by a spiritual gratitude. Alone. Just me and the turquoise pond stretched to the horizon in front of me. No people. No pressure. No plans. I was fully present.

I traded a night of sleep for something far more refreshing and restorative.

***

Bahamians are nice because they have to be. Their entire economy circles the bowl of tourism. Be nice to the Americans, or face both employment termination and social ostracization. I won’t pretend to know the emotional sentiment of an entire culture of people with whom I have had so little interaction, but despite the necessity of the cordiality, my encounters certainly felt genuine. Mutual smiles and greetings with almost no perceivable hidden contempt. Our tour guide told us her name was, “Lelly, like jelly, cause jam don’t shake like this,” as she gyrated her voluptuous hips and chest. I’m really bad with names, but I’ll never forget hers. It was a schtick for sure, but her brief anxiety as she awaited our response was as authentic as my smile of approval. I was jelly in Lelly’s hands.

I have a real, bona fide Bahamian friend – not Lelly, but Jennifer, the fourth-generation Bahamian with deep roots that extend all over the island dominated by the capital city of Nassau. Before the trip, a Bahamian connection meant almost nothing to me. The Bahamas were an overly commercialized tourist trap, and Jenn was someone I knew over ZOOM. Now I know enough about Bahamian history and culture to have interesting dinner conversations, and Jenn is like family. I know some of what scares her, and what makes her proud. I know she was afraid we wouldn’t like her country’s food, that she agonizes over how far from home to let her teenage son ride his scooter at dusk, and the painful memories that make her eyes wet. She gave me access to her charismatic and engaging husband, and she introduced me to her precious preteen daughter with the fearless smile.

Jenn was both honest and self-deprecating about some of the tarnished parts of her homeland. She was glad our VRBO was in a gated community, and she acknowledged some of the laws (or lack thereof) that she feared would not seem logical to us. Stereotypes and tropes about being on “island time” often have origins in reality. But the biggest problem in the Bahamas is really a missed marketing opportunity. Their best dishes are called peas and rice, steamed chicken, and boiled fish. Can that possibly sound any less appealing? And yet, the combination of local spices, citrus, cooking techniques, and fresh ingredients make Bahamian my new favorite ethnic cuisine. Jenn’s dad, for example, made us a pot of the culinary jewel of the family – his boiled fish recipe. With his own secret ingredient sealed safely behind Jenn’s pierced lips, she delivered it in a pot as old as she is, complete with a plastic handle that had completely melted off the metal lid decades earlier. It was truly glorious – a highlight of our trip. Of course, my expectations were pretty low given the flareless Bahamian food naming conventions. If the Bahamians would invest in a four-year-old with a box of crayons to launch a culinary marketing campaign with free-reign to rename stuff they might have to build a second airport.

I went to the Caribbean party epicenter, and I didn’t party. Instead, I felt things to which partiers aren’t privy. I felt with my bare feet and my curious mind and my scarred, but open, heart. I listened to stories and shared some of mine. I witnessed physical manifestations of emotions – the kind people spend a lifetime hiding from all the humans in their orbits. I hugged like it was important. I hugged because it was important.

Jenn let me in – into her country, into her life, and into the corner of her soul reserved for the very few who she dares to trust. The Bahamas mean a lot to me now, because it is the home of a Bahamian family I love. Vacationers go there for the weather and the waves. I’ll go back because some of my people live there.

***

We took daytime flights home. The transition back to sub-freezing Denver was going to need to be more gentle than a red-eye.

*This essay is from the “Underlying Issues Series.” Just because I have moved past alcohol doesn’t mean I don’t have lots of  room for growth, and lots of underlying issues to explore. If you are down with this blend of authenticity and self deprecation, please subscribe. If you don’t need help finding sobriety, you can ignore all the alcoholism stuff, and just read about my underlying issues that led to the addiction.

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