Monday, October 11, 2010

S*** will burn off

The saying applies to just about everything down here...

Clouds in the morning? Afternoon hangover? Mosquito bites on your bum?

The basic reaction is, "Not to worry, s*** will burn off." It's more of a glass-half-full approach to any predicament. It serves me well down here in the tropics and I've never been wrong with it.

That is, until my homeboy Isaac and his wife, the Rubster (a.k.a Ruby), came down for a week-long visit.

Before they made the no-free-food plane journey down here, the Rubster got on facebook and asked if the weather was going to be OK for their visit. I thought she was taunting me and basically ignored her inquiry.

Little did I know that the good people known as Meteorologists were calling for some showers our way. No biggie, I thought. It always showers here for like 10 minutes, the sun comes out and then you're fine. In other words, the S*** will burn off.

But for Isaac and the Rubster, we got about two good days in and then Subtropical Storm Otto, which later turned into a hurricane, crashed their party and there was nowhere to hide but their Marriott hotel room and the occasional visit to the hotel lobby bar.

Four straight days of gloomy days, flooded homes (no taxation without representation) and several inches of rain. It was the 5th highest rain total to ever fall upon the USVI at one time.

So in essence, the S*** never really did burn off. Well, not until the morning of their scheduled flight home.

Much love to those kids, who tried frantically to re-schedule their flights and adjust their reservations. I mean, it's not like they had anything else to do cramped up in a hotel room while us Island hacks had to report for duty every day.

I suppose they could have watched the Teen Mom marathon on MTV.

But for the record, we did get one outstanding day on St. John with my boy Frank, who also had a killer birthday party that lasted two (plus) days on Peterborg. Frank then escaped to Puerto Rico to hide from the emerging storm and the brutish reality that is a sunless St. Thomas.

So much depends on the weather? Scott Weiland is a wise man.

Almost 12 inches of rain engulfed this island and the runoff made pristine beaches like Brewers Bay look like Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory.

What do you do in paradise when the sun goes on hiatus?

I'm really not sure.

I'm actually sick of thinking about it. Oh well. Shit will burn off.

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