When we last left our intrepid sailor he was trapped in a spooky old elevator at a hotel on Martinique island during a hurricane.

Halfway between the first and second floor all the lights in the elevator went out! The elevator came to a stop and there I was in darkness. What was I going to do? There certainly wasn’t an emergency phone in this ancient elevator. I didn’t know if power to the hotel had been knocked out by the storm or if it was just the elevator. Being a highly trained electronics technician, I tried to fix the problem by using my vast knowledge of all the tricks of the trade. Which is to say I banged my fist on the control panel a couple of times. Worked like a charm. The lights came back on and the elevator began to slowly creep up. When it stopped at my floor and the door opened I quickly scrambled out, never to return to that metal death box again.

I went to my room, opened the door, and took in the accommodations. Nothing to really write home about but it was a decent enough room. I got ready for bed, which didn’t take long since I had no luggage. Luckily the airline gave me a little toiletry bag for passengers that had delayed baggage. I was at least able to brush my teeth. Then I was in the bed and fast asleep. The next morning I rose and looked out the window. The storm was still blowing but it wasn’t nearly as hurricany now. I took a shower and then had to dress in the same clothes I was wearing yesterday. When it came to the underwear I just couldn’t do it. Free balling was the fashion choice of the day. I grabbed my brief case which were full of tools and assorted work items that I carried on work trips. This was pre 9/11 or I would have never been allowed to carry some of the stuff in there into the cabin of an airplane. I mean I had a box cutter in there for fuck’s sake. The same weapon the terrorists used. I headed down to the lobby (utilizing the stairs of course) and out the front doors to my rental car.

I drove down to the fleet landing, which was an uneventful trip this time, and located the boat launch crew. As I approached I noticed there were no boats and no crew going back and forth. There was only a couple of shore patrol guys manning the landing. Even though the storm had decreased in intensity, the sea was still whipped up into a frenzy with pretty high waves. I walked up to the shore patrol guys.

“Ahoy,” I said to them. LOL, NFW did I say that. Let’s try again.

“Hey,” I said to them. “Are the boats still secured?”

“Yes,” on of them replied. “Shore patrol went around yesterday informing all the crew that we wouldn’t even try to run boats until noon. You didn’t get the word?”

“I’m not part of the crew. I’m Petty Officer Lovelace from the Fleet Technical Support Center. I’m here for a tech assist.”

“Oh, wait a minute.” He walked a little ways off while pulling a radio from his utility belt. I could see him talking into it but I couldn’t hear what he was saying.”

“Why aren’t you in uniform?” the other guy asked me.

“Because the airline lost my luggage on the way here yesterday,” I explained to him. It wouldn’t be the last time I had to make that explanation.

“You flew in here during that shit last night?”

“Yeah, it was not a fun time.” I was about to regal the guy with the whole tale but the other shore patrol guy came back over.

“I talked to the Command Duty Officer on the ship. They are going to send a boat for you.” he informed me.

“Their sending a boat in that?” I gulped while pointing out the massive waves in the churning sea.

“They said they need you on board as soon as possible so they are going to try and come get you.”

“Great,” I replied sarcastically.

“Don’t envy you,” the other guy said. No shit.

I shot the shit with the shore patrol guys for a bit while waiting on the boat. I could just make out the ship offshore and soon I saw a little dot on a trajectory from there to here. The dot grew until I recognized it as a motor whale boat which was one of the two craft the ship carried. The other one was the Captain’s personal gig which was more like a small yacht. Couldn’t have sent that one if you wanted me on board so bad Captain? Even though the boat was getting closer it kept disappearing behind the massive swells in the ocean. Once it got past the breakwater of the inlet that the landing was located in, things calmed down somewhat and I watched them come all the way in to the dock.

There was a three person crew and one of them caught my briefcase when I tossed it. I hopped in and we motored away. Once we passed the breakwater outbound the boat became a surfboard as it raced up and down the now humongous waves. It was all I could do to hold on to keep from flying out. It was about a 15 minute trip to the ship and there wasn’t one second of that time that I didn’t think we were all going to the bottom. When we got there the coxswain steered the boat to the stern (back) of the ship. Hanging over the side was a Jacob’s Ladder. That’s a fancy navy term for little ladder with two inch plastic steps spaced between two ropes. The coxswain held the boat a foot away from the ladder but the huge swells of the ocean constantly lifted us up and then plunged us back down. The others from the boat crew looked at me expectantly. I sighed, grabbed my briefcase, and moved into position. When a swell had us raised almost as high as the lifelines on the stern of the ship, I grabbed a hold of one of the ropes with my right hand. Next thing I knew I was hanging in space as the swell plunged and took the boat right out from under my feet. There I was dangling by one hand above the tumultuous waters below. Why did I try this holding my freaking briefcase? I looked up and saw several faces above me on the ship with looks of that same question on them. I was loosing my grip on the rope and could only think of one thing to do. I heaved the briefcase up toward the sailors on the deck above me. One of them was quick to grab it, attaboy shipmate! Having the use of both hands now, I scrambled up the ladder and was pulled on board.

One of the sailors on deck was a tech who had been assigned to work with me. We both quickly scrambled inside a hatch to the interior of the ship to get out of the elements. After quick introductions the sailor asked me if I wanted to head to the space with the malfunctioning equipment.

“Nope,” I told him. “I need to stop by the gee-dunk machine.” Gee-dunk is a navy term for candy or snacks. Due to my inability to exchange money the day before I had not had a single bite to eat since they served a lunch snack on the flight from Orlando to Puerto Rico. I was starving. Once I had purchased enough soda and snacks to assuage my hunger I got down to work. I won’t bore you with the technical details. Even if I did bore you with it, I would have to kill you Goose. Suffice to say, it was a tough one to fix. It took all day, but fix it I did. I didn’t even need the special took kit that Tom was supposed to be bringing. As a matter of fact, he never made it to the ship. Not ten minutes after I fixed the problem I got a satellite call from him on the ship telling me he was stuck in Puerto Rico. I informed him that the problem was fixed and he could go home. In the end I made it home before he actually did. He was not a happy camper.

I said good-bye to the tech that had assisted me and headed up to the quarter deck to catch a boat back to shore. When I got topside I was happy to see a clear sky and calm seas. The storm had apparently moved on. I approached the Lieutenant that was standing the Officer of the Deck watch and informed him I was ready to head back to shore.

“Back to shore?” he asked in a mocking tone.

“Uh, yeah,” I replied.

“Nobody is going ashore. Everyone has been recalled to the ship so we can get underway. The last boat is on the way back now with the duty shore patrol.”

“Sir, I’m not a crew member. I’m a tech rep. I was here to fix a problem and it’s fixed. I need to get back on shore.”

“Those are not my orders petty officer. Looks like you’ll be getting underway with us and can go ashore the next time we pull in.”

This guy outranked me but I was starting to get pissed. “No I won’t be getting underway. I have a rental car sitting at the fleet landing and a hotel room with my personal effects in it.” I hoped.

In the end it took a heated discussion with this guy, the Command Duty Officer, and a call to the Captain to get them to agree to run one more boat back to take me to shore. This is when I first discovered something about being a tech rep that I took to heart for the rest of my career. A ship will bend over backwards to get you there to fix a problem. Once it’s fixed they don’t give a fuck how, when, or where you get back to after that. The boat ride back was a much nicer ride though, with the now calm seas. When we reached the landing I climbed out of the boat and one of the crew threw my briefcase up on the dock. Without a word they motored off. Well, that was a fine how do you do for fixing their shit. OFW, I was back on dry land and this nightmare of a trip was pretty much over; or was it? Stay tuned for part three.

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Ha! Got you! Just kidding. I think there are a few of my stabby readers that would track me down and kill me a little bit. Read on!

I drove back to the hotel and in the lobby I managed to transcend the language barrier and ask the desk clerk if my suitcase had been delivered. “Non,” she informed me. Non? How do you say Fuck My Life in French? (According to Google translate it’s Baise Ma Vie.)

I went back to my room and got ready for bed. Luckily I had been able to eat lunch and dinner on the mess deck on the ship so I was still full and didn’t need to figure out how to get something to eat with no francs in my pocket. I had an early flight tomorrow and needed to get some sleep.

The next morning I got up, showered, and then got dressed in my same nasty clothes, still going commando of course. With my dirty skivvies tucked in a flap in my briefcase, I hopped in the car and drove to the airport. The weather was absolutely gorgeous. The sun was shining and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. At the airport I returned my rental car and entered the terminal. It was a fucking madhouse in there! There were people everywhere and by the mob mentality I could feel permeating the air, nobody was happy. I soon found out why. All flights, including mine, had been cancelled. Hortense had moved on to bitch slap Puerto Rico and every flight out of Martinique connected through there. I found this out after standing in line for an hour trying to see what I could do. Nothing it turns out. I was also able to check on the status of my lost bag and found out that it had made it to Puerto Rico but no further.

I was milling around the terminal trying to figure out what I was going to do when I heard a ruckus back over at the counter where I had just been talking to the ticket agent. There was an American guy there loosing his shit. He wasn’t shouting at the agent but it looked like he was in great distress. After a few minutes of heated discussion I saw him walk away and sit down on a bench, putting his head in his hands in total despair. I’m pretty much an introvert so I surprised myself by what I did next. I walked over to him and asked him what was wrong. I can’t remember his name so let’s call him Pete.

Pete looked up at me and sighed, then said, “I was here at Club Med for my buddy’s bachelor party but I couldn’t stay as long as everyone else. I used the last of my money for a taxi to the airport and now I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“Oh man,” I said. “That sucks.” That’s the only thing I could think to say. Not the best at comforting people I guess.

“If I could just get back to Club Med I could stay in the room with my buddy tonight and head out on the flight they booked me on tomorrow.” It turned out that we were on the same flight.

I got an idea. “Pete, do you have a phone number for Club Med?”

“Yeah.” He fished out a Club Med brochure from a shoulder bag he was carrying and handed it to me.

“Tell you what. I’m here on government business. I’m going to call Club Med and see what they will charge me for a night there. If it is within my per diem limit I’ll rent another car and you can show me how to get there. Deal?”

“Hell yeah!” Pete responded enthusiastically.

I went to a pay phone and called Club Med. I didn’t really have much hope that they would even have a room available, much less it be within per diem limit. But in the short time it took me to walk to the phone I had already decided that if there was a room and the rate wasn’t too outrageous, I would make up the difference in per diem out of my own pocket. The lady I talked to spoke perfect English (guess that would help in her job) and I was pleasantly surprised to find out that not only did they have a room, it was actually less than my per diem limit! I made the necessary arrangements and went back to inform Pete. He was much relieved and thanked me more than once. We headed to the rental counter and I got another car. Same exact type of car I had before. Hell, it could have been the exact car for all I knew. I opened up the trunk so Pete could put his bags in.

“Where are your bags?” Pete asked.

“Don’t ask.”

I drove as Pete directed me. It was about an hour and a half trip and I told him all about my adventures so far. He told me all about Club Med and the fun he and his buddies had been having. It sounded great to me and I was looking forward to it if only for one day. When we arrived Pete went off to find his buddy and I checked in. I got a single bungalow room that was really nice. I quickly checked it out but I was anxious to go to a place I saw on the way to my room. It was a little boutique and they sold clothes! I was able to use my work credit card and purchase a pair of Bermuda shorts and a Club Med T-shirt. They didn’t sell underwear though so I was still free balling it. I was getting used to it.

Before Pete had went to find his buddy he told me to meet him in an hour at a certain bar at the resort and we would have a drink together. That sounded like pure heaven to me. It was an outside bar with tables sitting on a deck with an incredible view. Things were starting to turn around for me! I spotted Pete sitting at a table with several other guys and a few girls. I approached and Pete introduced me to everyone including the groom to be. I can’t remember his name either but we will call him Douche Bag, for reasons that will soon become apparent. I do remember the name of the girl sitting next to him, also for reasons that will become apparent. Her name was Shazia. She was of Persian decent and very pretty. Also, I had the strangest feeling I had seen her before. A waitress came over and asked me what I wanted to drink. Shit, I still didn’t have any francs and this was back before you could just use a credit card anywhere.

My face turned beet red and I started to stammer, “Uh, I don’t have any money at the moment,” I embarrassingly informed the waitress.

Pete laughed at me. What the hell Pete? That’s kind of a dick move to do to someone who had saved your ass. “You don’t need money,” Pete told me. “This is an all inclusive resort.”

All inclusive? As in unlimited drinks? Oh yeah! This is were the nightmare that has been this trip so far turns into a wet dream! “Oh, OK. Then give me a beer! Any ole beer will do!”

Everyone laughed at that and I started to feel at ease, especially when I had a few sips of my beer. I really wanted to be accepted by this group of people so I decided to make a grand gesture. I raised my beer and said, “A toast!” I leaned my bottle in the direction of Pete’s friend who had impending nuptials. “To the groom! Congratulations!”

Everyone went quiet and looked at me like I was crazy. Everyone that is except Shazia. She was staring at Douche Bag with an incredulous look on her face. What was going on here? Nobody said anything for what seemed like an eternity, then Shazia angrily stood up, shoving her chair so hard it tipped over, and ran off. DB looked at me with dagger eyes and said, “Thanks dude.” Then he stood up and left. Slowly all the other people at the table, except Pete, drifted off also.

I looked at Pete and said, “What the hell man?”

“Uhm,” Pete started. “My buddy hadn’t exactly advertised he was here for his bachelor party. He and Shazia kind of hooked up the other day.”

“Oh shit.”

“No worries dude. You didn’t know. It was going to come to an end soon anyway.”

Did I feel bad that I had busted him? Maybe a little. Did I feel really bad? Nope. The douche bag was cheating on his fiancee. I expected Pete to follow suit and disappear on me but he didn’t. He hung out with me the rest of the day. After having a few more drinks at the bar we headed down to the beach to hang out there, and oh yeah, get more drinks from the roving waitresses. Man I could get used to this! As we were kicking back on a couple of lounge chairs and admiring the ocean I almost spit out my drink when I saw a couple of totally bare breasted girls go walking by like it was no big deal to be displaying their tatas in the bright sunshine.

“Whoa!” I said.

“Oh yeah,” Pete replied with a smile. “Many of the French girls here go topless. Nice view huh?” Oh yeah, I could definitely get used to this!

Later on after more fun in the sun and many more drinks Pete and I went to go eat at one of the resort dining facilities. As I walked into the room I beheld the most wondrous site I had seen in awhile (except for the bare tatas.) There were tables of food as far as my eyes could see! Oh yeah, this is where I even the score! I loaded up on all kinds of seafood, island food, and any other type of cuisine that struck my fancy. I was making up for two days worth of less than stellar culinary options.

Pete and I sat at a table alone. I guess his other friends didn’t want to associate with the whistle blower. I was deep into concentrating on shoveling food in my mouth when I heard someone say, “You guys care if I sit with you?” I looked up to see Shazia. We both indicated that she should sit.

We ate in silence for a few minutes and I finally broke it by saying to her, “Sorry about earlier at the bar.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” she told me. “I’m glad that happened. I came down here to have a little fun which is cool and all but I don’t like being lied to.” Pete didn’t say much as he was probably wondering if Shazia counted his omission of the truth as a lie. “Anyway, ” she continued. “I’m done with all that. I just want to spend the rest of my time having fun. You mind if I hang out with you guys?” Guess she wasn’t mad at Pete either. We both expressed how much we would enjoy her company and we continued to talk while we dined.

“You know,” I said to Shazia. “I have the strangest feeling that I’ve seen you before today.”

“You have,” she said. “I’ve seen you too. We were both on the same plane from Puerto Rico to here.”

That was it! Now I remembered. She wasn’t sitting anywhere near me on the plane but I had seen her when we were milling around in the building on St. Lucia. We commiserated a bit on the memory of that fine time and we all talked about our backgrounds. For the life of me I can’t remember any of Pete’s info, but, go figure, I still remember Shazia’s. She was 25 years old (I was 28 at the time) and from Washington D.C. She worked at some type of government agency there and was down for a week of vacation on her own just to get away from it all for a bit. When we were done eating, the three of us went to a beach side bar to hang out some more. I had sobered up somewhat during lunch and I needed to remedy that problem. Several hours passed and the three of us had a great time laughing and drinking as we watched the sun set over the ocean. Shazia asked us if we wanted to go to one of the clubs to listen to some music and maybe do some dancing.

“I’m going to pass,” Pete said. “I’ve got an early flight in the morning. You do too bud.”

Shazia looked at me inquisitively. Now was not the time to be responsible. “I’ll go with you for a little while,” I told her. “But I am not dancing! I have two left feet.”

Pete got up to leave and I told him I would see him in the morning. Shazia and I headed to the club which was on open air setting right on the beach. The music was great, the company was great, and the drinks were flowing. Guess what? She even managed to get me out on the dance floor after I had drank enough rhythm juice to not care what I looked like while making a fool of myself. We danced on into the night and before I knew it, it was two in the morning and the club shut down.

As we were leaving Shazia asked me if I wanted to walk along the beach. It sounded like a great idea and we were soon strolling down the sand admiring the big moon illuminating the water. Shazia took off running and dove into the ocean. Would else could I do but follow suit? We swam around a little bit then came back to the beach and laid down next to each other, very close to each other. Shazia was staring at me with very seductive eyes and even in my inebriated state I knew things were perilously close to crossing the line. It would have been easy to do and I won’t lie, I was tempted, but I was also a good (mostly) guy.

“Shazia,” I said to her. “I have a girlfriend. Things can’t go any further. Thanks for hanging out with me today. It was fun but I need to get to bed.”

“I understand,” she said back to me. “I respect you for that. I had a great time too. Thanks for keeping me company.”

With that we went our separate ways, but not before exchanging e-mail addresses (which was still a pretty new thing in 1996) and promised to write, which we did. We never saw each other again in person but kept up an e-mail friendship for several years afterwards until life events caused us to loose touch.

I went back to my room and passed out. I slept the sleep of the dead (or extremely drunk) not even thinking about setting an alarm to be up in time to get to the airport. I came awake to the sound of someone banging on my door. When I answered it was Pete. “Dude, I’ve been trying to wake you up for half an hour now. We have to get going or we are going to miss our flight!” Shit! I had overslept and to top it off I had one killer hangover pounding in my head. I threw on my clothes and grabbed my bag briefcase and ran to the car.

When we got there I threw Pete the keys and climbed into the back seat. “You drive,” I told him. Then laid down and passed out again. Next thing I knew Pete was shaking me awake at the rental car return area at the airport. I quickly took care of that business and we ran for our gate. We made it with only a few minutes to spare but once I was in my seat in the little airplane (Pete was seated several rows away from me) I relaxed. It was all smooth sailing from here out I thought. When was I ever going to learn?

The first 30 minutes of the flight was nice and I slept to try and get rid of the hangover. I didn’t know it then but the exact plane I was on now, had brought my lost bag to Martinique and was making it’s way to a hotel I wasn’t staying at anymore. Later on I was awakened by the sound of the pilot making an announcement. He said that we should make sure our seat belts were fastened even when sitting down because the tail end of the hurricane was still belting Puerto Rico and it was going to get rough. Couldn’t be any rougher than that flight in to Martinique I thought. In any case I made sure my seat belt was properly fastened and it’s a good thing I did. I couldn’t have been any wronger (is that a word?) about the degree of roughness I was about to encounter.

The skies out the window grew dark again and rain drizzled down the glass. We hit a few minor bumps and it quieted down again. That was only Hortence warming up her breath as she got down to business. There was suddenly a major vibration throughout the plane and we began to buck up and down. We would lose thousands of feet of elevation in a few seconds as we plunged and then gain it all back again as we heaved back up into the sky. A guy a few rows ahead of me had failed to heed the pilots advice about buckling his seat belt. On one particularly steep dive he flew out of his seat and crashed into the overhead, smacking his head pretty good. If I hadn’t been so terrified I might have laughed at the stupid fucker for being an idiot. Bet he didn’t wear a seat belt while driving either. I’m thinking he might change his attitude after that little attitude adjustment to the noggin. For the next 30 minutes we endured this horrifying roller coaster of a flight. I was sure the pilot was going to wave off like last time but there was no talk of it and he eventually put us down on the runway. We taxied for a bit and then came to a stop, but not at the terminal. The pilot informed us that there were so many planes that they didn’t have a spot to park them all at the terminal. We ended up sitting there for almost an hour waiting for a spot. Not too long after the wait started, a lady sitting behind me blew chunks all over the back of my seat. I had to sit there with a hangover and smell that nasty odor while trying to keep my own stomach contents right where they belonged.

Eventually we got to the terminal and disembarked. Pete was sitting closer to the front and I thought he might hang out at the gate to say good-bye, but when I got there he was nowhere to be found. I really couldn’t blame him. We had only managed to secure flights to Puerto Rico, nothing beyond. Everyone was scrambling to a customer service agent to book additional flights. I stood in a Disneyland long line and finally got my chance to talk to an agent. She got me hooked up on a flight to Miami and then on another to Jacksonville. “Any bags to check?” she asked me. I just grabbed my boarding passes and walked off.

Six hours later I was walking up the jet way at JAX into the waiting arms of my girlfriend. It took another week to get my lost bag back. You’d think I would be upset about that but it actually had a sliver lining. Since all my uniforms were in it, I got to go to work in civilian clothes for a week. With that and the club med night, I think I came out ahead on this trip.

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