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Grenadines and More, Part Three
It is New Year's
Eve, and all the island and staff are anticipating some fabulous festivities.
Craig and I are very excited; perhaps we will finally make some friends. We have
found that the other island guests are very inclusive. The kids express concern.
Ask front desk personnel about upcoming evening events. Clerk looks at Craig and
me like we are imbeciles, and tells us that an invitation was sent out
yesterday. We tell him that they apparently only invited people who were within
walking distance of front desk, as we have received no invite. Front desk staff
are dismayed, and shuffle about looking for our invite. We leave, feeling more
left out than ever.
After lunch we walk back to the room to find a hastily scribbled invite on our
desk. No matter. We don't mind being last on the list, as long as we make some
friends.
Craig and I put on our evening finery and head out. Tell children to expect us
in an hour and a half. Kids raise eyebrows, but refrain from commenting. Spouse
and self laugh gaily on the short walk to the cocktail party.
We enter through the kitchen door, our first mistake. The managers happen to be
in the kitchen and greet us with solemn looks. Begin to wonder if I have the
dreaded pepper tooth, but as Craig has not made the tell tale signal I assume
this is not the problem. Managers inquire as to our satisfaction with our
lodgings. Dilemma: do we tell the truth - that we are nearly blown out of bed
every night because we are on Windy Hill, or, as nothing can be done about the
blasted location, remain mute and enjoy party? After a slight hesitation we both
decide on saying nothing. Idiot managers not good at small talk, and so we move
on.
Make an immediate New Year's resolution that I will begin talking to strangers
at parties. Approaching the owners of the resort with some chatter in mind, I am
elbowed out of the way by a horse-faced woman about 6 feet tall. She begins to
blather on about her dear friend Tony Blair, who recommended that she come to
the island. Hover on the edge of the group hoping to introduce myself until I
realize it is a lost cause. Find another potential friend with whom I am happily
able to converse about sailboats, until we are interrupted by someone he has
known for years.
Craig and I find that everyone knows everyone else and they have all been coming
to the island at Christmas for years; I am talking about thirty years and
counting. This is hopeless; no one knows us and they all have things to catch up
on so we are the party losers. We feel like the new kids on the block who
apparently stink as well.
At long last we see some people we know, a German couple who play tennis
immediately before us each evening. Craig is at first overjoyed, but then
dismayed as tennis couple spot old friends and move past us. We leave in
disgrace, through the kitchen door, after thirty minutes.
Kids are surprised to see us. We report that we are party pariahs and could not
break into the crowd of long timers. Conner replies wisely; “It is dangerous to
leave your pack.” I agree with him for once. Austin says that he will be the
mole and infiltrate new groups in order to make some friends. I'm dejected, but
wise to the ways of inclusive Christmas party posses.
All in all we conclude that this has been a vacation bust, a case of being in
the wrong places at the wrong time. However, as I said, we were forced to
tolerate each other's company, and had managed to enjoy ourselves despite the
trials of the resorts where we stayed.
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