Things were moving faster then a New York minute state-side but real estate negotiations were definitely on island time.
Even though my recent trip to the Doctor had come with strong recommendations to see a stomach specialist for my ulcers, I had a surprisingly calming feeling in my gut that our housing in the Bahamas would work itself out.
Welcome to the dichotomy that is me. I first noticed the giant discrepancy in my need to control the universe when planning Trav and I's wedding in the Caribbean. I realized quickly that I had little power from the US and oddly, willingly conceded. I was as surprised as our guests were on our Big Day and it was perfect! As I found myself continuously following up with our Real Estate agent in the Bahamas, with no results, I realized our new home would have to be the same way.
Looking back, I'm surprised I was able to sleep at night because a lot of factors are involved in acquiring a new home in a foreign country. Especially fully-furnished homes. We had been home over a month since seeing Bahamian properties and now all of them were rented. After looking through the minimal pictures on Bahamian listings, it became increasingly clear that another trip would need to be made to secure housing. Securing a safe home, in a safe neighborhood, where the furnishings fit our needs wasn't going to be as easy as catalog shopping. Or was it?
Rewind...
In the beginning of March, Trav and I had visited the Bahamas and I posted our experience and the homes we saw in my blog post, dated March 14th. #8- Live Where Others Vacation... I posted two pictures and one video. In the video, I accidentally filmed a pink house while we were waiting for the listing agent who was bringing us keys. We actually wound up touring the green house beside it because the pink house was rented. I posted the video because it was the only media I had from that days' real estate excursion. http://lifeisabahamianbeach.blogspot.com/2014_03_14_archive.html
A month later, our real estate agent emailed us the news. He had the perfect home for us.
And guess what? It was THAT pink house.
I had goosebumps immediately. Seriously- This was kismet like never before. It had a fenced yard for Bob which I had already seen by touring the neighbor. The former tenant was going to take all of the current furnishings so we were given the chance to approve the new furniture, which was an incredible relief. The home is in the gated community that we have had our eye on so we knew we would be safe. And best of all, the price was too good to be true. Travis and I took two minutes to decide that it was meant to be, and we took it before it even went on the market.
It was the easiest lease we've ever signed. All we provided was our phone number, address in New York and full names and a lease was drawn up and scanned over. We both signed it and sent it back. Within hours we had a fully executed lease. I printed out a copy.
When I read the bottom signature line, I smiled. How could I have missed that previously? In our signature line, we had filled in the date in the space that had read 'in the year of our Lord'. I had never had God's signature so heavily on my lease before.
Hallelujah. Home Sweet Home.
Thursday, April 17, 2014
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
#10- Let's Get This Party Started!
Wait! If new to this blog, there's so many nitty gritty details that you've missed! I promise that you'll want to start this adventure from the beginning by starting with the first post, Feb 27- found on the right side bar. At your leisure, come follow our adventure, by reading following posts in order by date, (which I hope to keep short and entertaining!) Welcome to the Salt Life...
It may not have hit me when I was in the Bahamas but it definitely hit me when I was home. I had a longing that even now, I can't explain. I missed the people, the island, and everything about it. I had to get back. I had an overwhelming feeling that I had to get home.
The journey of life was mimicking Toad's Wild Ride again but we didn't mind as much because the grass was truly greener on the other side and we knew it would be worth the wait. It took two weeks after we had returned home to obtain the official offer letter and another week to agree on a start date.
May 19th was the date chosen and the clock began to tick.
First thing we needed to do was secure Visas. Travis is applying for a Work Visa and I'm applying for a Permit to Reside since I'm not legally allowed to get a job in the Bahamas without sponsorship. It goes back to the Bahamian Government's commitment to it's citizens that expatriates will not take local jobs. I know, the bad news just keeps coming, right? All jokes aside, when you've been working all of your life, it isn't as easy of a decision as one would think. It's been a mind struggle that I don't see resolving easily.
We needed more wallet-sized photos and I decided to test my luck again at the same CVS who had sabotaged my previous passport photos (previous post). A few minutes later, as I paid for our new Visa photos, I began boiling inside. The girl who took this round of pictures had apparently not received the no smile and no ear hiding memo because she didn't say a word about either. I knew I had been played...
After CVS, we made a stop at our local police station for Good Standing Certificates. Along with the application, we needed to provide hard evidence that we had been law abiding citizens, which just turned out to be a letter stating our address and that we haven't been arrested, all on City of Long Beach letterhead.
Lastly, we needed a Health Certificate advising we were in good health and free to leave the US. I hadn't been to a Doctor outside of an emergency room in over 7 years, so I was more then a little nervous on the morning of our appointments. After arriving to the Doctor's, they split us up in separate rooms so I was alone when the Nurse told me she needed to draw blood for the physical. I'm not sure what ever made me think I could be a Veterinarian because I scanned the room immediately for an escape when I heard this. A million possible scenarios to get out of being poked ran through my mind as she approached me abruptly with the needle. Nothing smells more like doom then rubbing alcohol. It all happened so quickly. She immediately incapacitated me with her man-hands around my bicep and my only option was to be brave and make awkward conversation. I looked everywhere but at the bad business that was happening to my arm as I secretly held back tears. Apparently, it wasn't a well-kept secret because she silently slid me the box of tissues on her way out of the room. I am 34 years old! Do I get a sucker and a plastic toy too? I'm such a schmuck.
The test results came back and we obtained our good health letters. Lastly, we needed to provide reference letters stating what truly wonderful people we are. Of course we wrote these glowing letters ourselves and had the first willing participant lend their signature.. kidding.. The Work Visa and Permit to Reside process takes 4-6 weeks so we have little time to get this in the mail. I'm getting used to this.
The next matter of business was in my opinion, the most important. The importation of our beloved Golden Retriever, who is starting to resemble his new nickname Bahamas Bob. How does one get a very spoiled, 100-lb, dog-aggressive, hairy beast over International waters to the Bahamas? GREAT question and one I had been asking myself for the last 6 months. It was time to put some kind of a plan into action.
Bob needed an exam and all necessary tests to confirm his almost 8-year old body was ready for this type of big move. This guy has already traveled across the country in his short life, so I wanted to minimize the stress of his next venture as much as possible. He also needed vaccines as required by his import papers.
Going to the Vet in Long Beach is always an experience in itself. Bob's current Veterinarian works out of the basement of his home that was destroyed by Hurricane Sandy in 2012. He is usually in his driveway when Bob and I pull up and he always leads us through his garage and into his basement for the exam. It's just him, no receptionist, no Technician, and no staff of any kind. Silence of the Lambs haunts my nightmares so the first time he asked me to follow him into the dark, I immediately thought that pulleys and baskets were in my near future.
The small space where he did Bob's current exam was cold and dark. In the room with us was just a scale, an examination table and an equally sparse desk. And even though, every time that I'm in that sterile room, the theme song of Dexter plays in my head, there is something about Dr. Hal that puts me at ease. And that's all that matters.
Bob was everything but 'at ease', as he was poked and prodded, just as I had been the day before. With a sturdy hand-shake and a promised future call with results, Bob and I checked this visit off of our to-do list.
There is no Quarantine in the Bahamas for dogs traveling from the United States, thank goodness. In order to obtain an Import Permit, I have to apply in writing to The Bahamas, stating all of Bob's information, and provide his current vaccine history, and $10.00 cash. Once The Bahamas receives this information, they will mail me an Import Permit which needs to accompany Bob the entire time during travel, as well as a list of permit requirements. In addition to the permit we will need to provide a Health Certificate and Bob will need to see a Vet in Nassau within 48 hours of our arrival to The Bahamas. Everything was ready to go except we needed the date of Bob's travel for the application. We needed to figure out how to get Bob to the Bahamas
When something is meant to be, the harp music starts playing in the background and rose petals fall at your feet. Getting Bob to the Bahamas has caused me six months of anguish and restless nights. I had no idea how I was going to get him there without flying him commercially, which I refused to do. Since he is insanely dog-aggressive and any standard travel options included him being kept in areas with other dogs, I knew he'd probably have to be sedated to be allowed to travel. Since sedated dogs can't regulate their body temperature, this poses a dangerous risk and makes it a necessity to travel in a guaranteed climate-controlled environment. This left us VERY minimal options. Especially in such short time.
And then...
Heaven itself sent us an Angel. Trav's Aunt has amazing friends from high school and college that she has kept in great touch with through the years. We often have the pleasure of hanging out with everyone and catching up at family events. These salt of the earth type of people always include a very special duo, Kristy and Dave. Big Michigan State fans, they live in Michigan, but have a plane that they keep in Florida during the cold winter months. I remembered that in September, before we knew this job was a possibility, we had been chatting about them flying their dog, Mullet, to and from his pet sitters. When Dave told Travis that he would be happy to fly Bob over to the Bahamas, I cried. Nothing else mattered. I was overwhelmed with relief.
And to be honest, a little envy. It's on my bucket list to jet off on a private plane. Leave it to my Golden Retriever to beat me to it. I guess blondes really do have more fun...
Read Next: #11-Queen of Moving , Apr 23
Saturday, March 15, 2014
#9- Strangers On a Train
Ironically, I watched Gravity on the plane home while feeling the heaviest emotions of my life, and oddly, I was thankful for it. I had no previous interest in seeing such a stressful film, and for 2 solid hours, I did not think about the Bahamas.
It was overwhelming. We needed to fill our family and friends in on the details of our trip, and each time we told the story, we were cathartically working through our very raw feelings and emotions. The same story received the same collective answer "what are you waiting for?".
The truth was, we didn't know. On Monday, Travis discussed the offer letter that was going to start its descent through the chain-of-command on Tuesday morning, and as far as we knew, there weren't any surprises. I'd say it was probably better then what we initially expected going into this process. We waited patiently to pop the bottles that had been chilling for over a year for this type of occasion.
In the meantime, New York was up to her no good ways. The cruel winter had not ceased its destruction while we were away. We spent our entire Saturday in traffic, picking up Bob from New Jersey, all due to pot hole repair. The winter had messed with our schedules for so long, and ironically on the first 60-degree day we were continuing to sacrifice our time to Mother Nature. Unbelievable...
The next day we thought we would try to get out and get a beer to clear our heads. What was supposed to be an enjoyable Sunday Funday with good beer and great food,turned into a stressful afternoon in the cold, followed by a $20.00 cab ride home, after learning our car battery was the latest casualty of winter. With no mechanic open on Sunday, the car spent the night on the other side of town, until I could figure everything out on Monday, which made for an exciting day of unexpected running around... in the snow.
By Tuesday, I was mentally exhausted and my body was starting to shut down. It was the cold before the cold and my body was putting up a valiant effort. And then Travis reminded me we had dinner with the Queen that evening. Ugh...
"Queen of the Night" is a new dinner theater that is all the talk in New York. It's supposed to be crazy erotic and avante-garde and interactive. All things that make the hair on my neck stand straight up. I had heard rumors that the characters grab you and take you to different rooms where you have to do what they say and in some room, some where, there's a naked chick and a tub of milk and if told to, you have to bathe her. No way, no how, not happening.
So when the invitation came to me, I have no idea why I allowed myself to accept. I was bribed with alcohol, yes, that must've been it.
I just happened to read the invitation that day and saw:
Oh sh#t, what did I get myself into? No jeans? Now what? I wouldn't have this issue in the Bahamas... I grabbed a sweater and some leggings but fearing the leggings might be see-through, I wore tights underneath and some jewelry that I had never worn previously, as the invite dictated. I felt way too insulated on the train and I knew that I had overdressed. By the time I had arrived to meet Travis and our friends at McManus, I was not feeling well and my sweater, tights, and the warm day were not doing me any favors. I had a drink at the bar that seemed to make me burn up instead of cool down. All the while, we made our way to the Paramount Hotel where the show took place. After waiting in line (typical new york), we are ushered in to this creepy hotel with plywood corridors with blind corners. NOT. my. jam. I had already started to breathe faster and was making my hands into tight little fists in case someone grabbed me from behind. When one of the girls in our group got pulled to the side and whipped, I knew I wanted out before it even began. I tried my best to blend in as I made my way to the bar, I needed a cold drink, a fan, and some kind of super power to take me far far away from here. Apparently all the drinks on the bar were pre-made and what you saw was what you got. All fully loaded with triple sec and lime juice, which somehow directly correlates to my face flushing and my temperature rising even more, I was doomed after a couple of sips and ditched it. By the time we made it into the small auditorium with few tables and a main stage, I noticed that the few people involved were co-mingling. I also noticed that Hugh Jackman was one of the dinner guests. No one was making a scene (also typical new york) and that was probably because there was plenty of weird stuff happening all around us. I made my way to a corner and tried to sneak in a bit of fresh air. I was praying to find an air conditioning duct, just a tiny pocket of air, as I adapted to my new surroundings. I was starting to panic as I continued to overheat and after pulling my hair up off of my neck, I grabbed the invitation and began to fan myself. Dressed in all black, I was trying to shrink away into the dark, all the while, praying that I blended in with the scenery.
I should've known that praying doesn't do me any good in these types of situations. I have developed a serious social phobia and if you know me post high school, I defer public attention of any kind. Opening presents at our couples wedding shower, in front of our closest friends and family, was a much discussed part of wedding planning; and that was in front of people I know and love. I refuse to be in the spotlight for anything, under any circumstance, however, the universe likes to make it known that it strongly disagrees. I will always be the one picked to go up on-stage when someone is looking for volunteers. And I never volunteer. Even if I do my best to avoid all eye contact with the person picking and am the only one not raising my hand, I will be chosen. So, it didn't surprise me when I felt my arm get grabbed and I knew it wasn't Travis.
My heart sank and beat out of my chest at the same time. I wanted to grab my arm back and run but I thought I might be thrown out, or worse, cause a scene. Remember, for some reason, we paid for this and no one else was disobeying. She led me through the crowd of people, then stopped cold and told me not to move. She took away my "fan" and I felt complete terror take over my body. She wrapped me up in some sort of fire hose, like a boa constrictor, so I couldn't move, or run away. My mind was racing. At this point, it was still dark and not many people were noticing what was going on, so I thought I might be okay. Nope.
All of a sudden what felt like a dozen spotlights were turned on and pointed directly on me. I actually felt their heat like flames. My body temperature went through the roof and my mind was in a frenzy. I looked all around me, feeling like I was going to be burned at the stake, pleading with my eyes for someone in our group to please take my place. A larger group started to gather and so did the sweat on my forehead, nose, and chin. I was sweating everywhere instantaneously which, of course, made me hyperventilate even more, because I was sweating. And just when I started to hear murmurs in the crowd saying "why is she sweating?" I looked up, and realized that even my eye balls were sweating. I somehow saw a dangling hook. Oh man. This was NOT good.
This woman who was now my personal Pontius Pilate showed no mercy as I stood there, on display, sweating like Whitney Houston in front of the world, when she connected herself onto the hook and continued to do air aerobics above my head. Bravo Queen of the Night- you have somehow dug into the depths of my subconscious and created my personal hell, in front of my husband, my friends, and Hugh Jackman. Bravo
When her feet finally touched the ground, there was no apology or remorse. She simply untied me and sent me on my way with a seductive head nod, not acknowledging in any way that I had been scarred forever. Just then, I overheard another dinner guest as she dispersed from the crowd say "wow, that was so much more embarrassing then being publicly violated by a naked stripper". You have no idea lady. Thanks
I didn't know or care how tables and chairs materialized after that, and I didn't even care that my dinner silverware was almost getting stepped on by the people simulating sex on top of our table. I couldn't push my seat back into the darkness any farther and I was too scared to even go to the bathroom. If someone touched me again, they were going to die. I made Travis get me a vodka soda from the bar, no frilly stuff and no triple sec, and I didn't care that it cost another $20.00. I feigned my excitement that I had to eat lobster that came in cages and bribe other tables for their risotto. After listening to a woman at the communal table ask me a million questions about my dog walking business, I was searching for a prop gun. This was so not my scene. I don't belong here. This was hell on earth.
The night was a disaster. As we finally escaped the underbelly of Penn Station, I realized I might not miss New York- I've always been a stranger on her train...
Read Next: #10- Let's Get This Party Started, Apr 1
It was overwhelming. We needed to fill our family and friends in on the details of our trip, and each time we told the story, we were cathartically working through our very raw feelings and emotions. The same story received the same collective answer "what are you waiting for?".
The truth was, we didn't know. On Monday, Travis discussed the offer letter that was going to start its descent through the chain-of-command on Tuesday morning, and as far as we knew, there weren't any surprises. I'd say it was probably better then what we initially expected going into this process. We waited patiently to pop the bottles that had been chilling for over a year for this type of occasion.
In the meantime, New York was up to her no good ways. The cruel winter had not ceased its destruction while we were away. We spent our entire Saturday in traffic, picking up Bob from New Jersey, all due to pot hole repair. The winter had messed with our schedules for so long, and ironically on the first 60-degree day we were continuing to sacrifice our time to Mother Nature. Unbelievable...
The next day we thought we would try to get out and get a beer to clear our heads. What was supposed to be an enjoyable Sunday Funday with good beer and great food,turned into a stressful afternoon in the cold, followed by a $20.00 cab ride home, after learning our car battery was the latest casualty of winter. With no mechanic open on Sunday, the car spent the night on the other side of town, until I could figure everything out on Monday, which made for an exciting day of unexpected running around... in the snow.
By Tuesday, I was mentally exhausted and my body was starting to shut down. It was the cold before the cold and my body was putting up a valiant effort. And then Travis reminded me we had dinner with the Queen that evening. Ugh...
"Queen of the Night" is a new dinner theater that is all the talk in New York. It's supposed to be crazy erotic and avante-garde and interactive. All things that make the hair on my neck stand straight up. I had heard rumors that the characters grab you and take you to different rooms where you have to do what they say and in some room, some where, there's a naked chick and a tub of milk and if told to, you have to bathe her. No way, no how, not happening.
So when the invitation came to me, I have no idea why I allowed myself to accept. I was bribed with alcohol, yes, that must've been it.
I just happened to read the invitation that day and saw:
"DRESS to please the Queen. We remind you to dig into the deepest reaches of your armoires for the one piece you never thought you’d have occasion to wear—your finest jewels, your great-aunt’s vintage gown, your swankest of tuxedos. Astound us! Kindly note the Queen will deny entrance to guests who are not appropriately
dressed. Please ensure every member of your party understands the dress code."
Oh sh#t, what did I get myself into? No jeans? Now what? I wouldn't have this issue in the Bahamas... I grabbed a sweater and some leggings but fearing the leggings might be see-through, I wore tights underneath and some jewelry that I had never worn previously, as the invite dictated. I felt way too insulated on the train and I knew that I had overdressed. By the time I had arrived to meet Travis and our friends at McManus, I was not feeling well and my sweater, tights, and the warm day were not doing me any favors. I had a drink at the bar that seemed to make me burn up instead of cool down. All the while, we made our way to the Paramount Hotel where the show took place. After waiting in line (typical new york), we are ushered in to this creepy hotel with plywood corridors with blind corners. NOT. my. jam. I had already started to breathe faster and was making my hands into tight little fists in case someone grabbed me from behind. When one of the girls in our group got pulled to the side and whipped, I knew I wanted out before it even began. I tried my best to blend in as I made my way to the bar, I needed a cold drink, a fan, and some kind of super power to take me far far away from here. Apparently all the drinks on the bar were pre-made and what you saw was what you got. All fully loaded with triple sec and lime juice, which somehow directly correlates to my face flushing and my temperature rising even more, I was doomed after a couple of sips and ditched it. By the time we made it into the small auditorium with few tables and a main stage, I noticed that the few people involved were co-mingling. I also noticed that Hugh Jackman was one of the dinner guests. No one was making a scene (also typical new york) and that was probably because there was plenty of weird stuff happening all around us. I made my way to a corner and tried to sneak in a bit of fresh air. I was praying to find an air conditioning duct, just a tiny pocket of air, as I adapted to my new surroundings. I was starting to panic as I continued to overheat and after pulling my hair up off of my neck, I grabbed the invitation and began to fan myself. Dressed in all black, I was trying to shrink away into the dark, all the while, praying that I blended in with the scenery.
I should've known that praying doesn't do me any good in these types of situations. I have developed a serious social phobia and if you know me post high school, I defer public attention of any kind. Opening presents at our couples wedding shower, in front of our closest friends and family, was a much discussed part of wedding planning; and that was in front of people I know and love. I refuse to be in the spotlight for anything, under any circumstance, however, the universe likes to make it known that it strongly disagrees. I will always be the one picked to go up on-stage when someone is looking for volunteers. And I never volunteer. Even if I do my best to avoid all eye contact with the person picking and am the only one not raising my hand, I will be chosen. So, it didn't surprise me when I felt my arm get grabbed and I knew it wasn't Travis.
My heart sank and beat out of my chest at the same time. I wanted to grab my arm back and run but I thought I might be thrown out, or worse, cause a scene. Remember, for some reason, we paid for this and no one else was disobeying. She led me through the crowd of people, then stopped cold and told me not to move. She took away my "fan" and I felt complete terror take over my body. She wrapped me up in some sort of fire hose, like a boa constrictor, so I couldn't move, or run away. My mind was racing. At this point, it was still dark and not many people were noticing what was going on, so I thought I might be okay. Nope.
All of a sudden what felt like a dozen spotlights were turned on and pointed directly on me. I actually felt their heat like flames. My body temperature went through the roof and my mind was in a frenzy. I looked all around me, feeling like I was going to be burned at the stake, pleading with my eyes for someone in our group to please take my place. A larger group started to gather and so did the sweat on my forehead, nose, and chin. I was sweating everywhere instantaneously which, of course, made me hyperventilate even more, because I was sweating. And just when I started to hear murmurs in the crowd saying "why is she sweating?" I looked up, and realized that even my eye balls were sweating. I somehow saw a dangling hook. Oh man. This was NOT good.
This woman who was now my personal Pontius Pilate showed no mercy as I stood there, on display, sweating like Whitney Houston in front of the world, when she connected herself onto the hook and continued to do air aerobics above my head. Bravo Queen of the Night- you have somehow dug into the depths of my subconscious and created my personal hell, in front of my husband, my friends, and Hugh Jackman. Bravo
When her feet finally touched the ground, there was no apology or remorse. She simply untied me and sent me on my way with a seductive head nod, not acknowledging in any way that I had been scarred forever. Just then, I overheard another dinner guest as she dispersed from the crowd say "wow, that was so much more embarrassing then being publicly violated by a naked stripper". You have no idea lady. Thanks
I didn't know or care how tables and chairs materialized after that, and I didn't even care that my dinner silverware was almost getting stepped on by the people simulating sex on top of our table. I couldn't push my seat back into the darkness any farther and I was too scared to even go to the bathroom. If someone touched me again, they were going to die. I made Travis get me a vodka soda from the bar, no frilly stuff and no triple sec, and I didn't care that it cost another $20.00. I feigned my excitement that I had to eat lobster that came in cages and bribe other tables for their risotto. After listening to a woman at the communal table ask me a million questions about my dog walking business, I was searching for a prop gun. This was so not my scene. I don't belong here. This was hell on earth.
The night was a disaster. As we finally escaped the underbelly of Penn Station, I realized I might not miss New York- I've always been a stranger on her train...
Read Next: #10- Let's Get This Party Started, Apr 1
Friday, March 14, 2014
#8- Live where others vacation...
We met a real estate agent downstairs in the lobby. He had been given a budget from the HR team and showed us nine homes. These places were crazy!
Each home was in a different gated community within 10-minutes of Travis's new work. Each unit came fully furnished and had beautiful grounds to walk Bob. All properties had pools of every shape and size and all but one had beach access. Some had beach access from their back door.
Our favorite was a free standing home that had 3-bedrooms and an office. There was a large veranda, out three patio doors. The veranda led to a grass area and its own boat dock. There was sand that led into the crystal blue lagoon where Bob would be able to take a swim whenever he pleased. The beach was a perfect spot to house kayaks or paddle boards. We could see ourselves spending numerous hours having coffee or wine on the deck or down in the water, swimming with Bob. It opened up the possibility that we might actually be able to live the life we've always dreamed of.
We returned to the hotel excited and for the first time, able to picture our lives in the Bahamas. We had so much running through our mind, though little time to talk about it. We rushed back to the hotel and got ready for dinner.
Reservations had been made for Trav and I at Mesa Grill at the Cove in Atlantis, Paradise Island. We took a cab over and enjoyed a few drinks at the bar before letting the waitress order our entire meal. It was fantastic and so was she. I was so impressed by every Bahamian that crossed our path and enriched our experience. From the tour guide to the hostess, everyone was so happy to be there and it showed.
We walked around the restaurant and the grounds of the Cove. For those that believe in The Secret- here's one for your vision board.
In 2007, I was working for a company that decided to have its annual meeting at the newly built Cove in Atlantis. It was amazing. One of the nicest rooms I've ever stayed in. While the majority of my days were spent in meetings, we had one free day to ourselves. It was one of the best days of my life.
People have told me throughout my life that there's nothing like taking an amazing vacation, by yourself. But who has the opportunity to do such a thing? I now know what they're talking about because for my one free day, I was able to pretend like I was on a luxurious vacation, all by myself. I was free to do whatever I wanted to do and everything was at my disposal. I had a long massage and hung out at the spa. I pool hopped at the main Atlantis pool and went round and round in the lazy river. I grabbed lunch and a cocktail at the Cove pool bar and dragged my beach chair out to where the sand came to a point. In this crowded resort, I was the only one on the beach that day. I felt such peace and sheer joy in that moment. I have always remembered that day and that moment and I have frequently envisioned myself back in time. This specific moment is my happy place.
Now 7 years later, we were standing in the same spot where this special moment was created. My happy place was about to become our home.
Read Next: #9- Strangers on a Train, Mar 15
Thursday, March 13, 2014
#7- Is it better in the Bahamas?
We had an early flight so I was up at 3am. I don't think anyone feels their best at 3am, but I was more nauseous then usual and overcome with anxiety. I had a feeling that this would be one of the longest days of my life, and I was right.
The plane landed after a quick flight and we made it through customs extremely fast. BHD had arranged for transportation to the hotel and our representative was waiting for us. The enormity of the project hit us as we drove to a neighboring resort.
Our room had a gorgeous view of its pool and beach and I was overcome with envy for those who had left their obligations at home and were taking advantage of the gorgeous weather.
We had a few minutes before our "Island Tour" to grab something to eat. In the same clothes we wore on the plane, we certainly looked out of place as we grabbed a bite at the pool cafe.
I was trying to assess my feelings. I had half expected to walk off the plane and have the hot air hit me in the face and feel instantly that I was home, but I didn't. I thought that the first time I saw the deep blue ocean, knowing that this could be my daily view, I would want to sign on the dotted line immediately, but I didn't.
Instead we toured a Rum distillery- actually very cool.
A few art galleries, a Fort, a Chocolate and Cigar Factory later, we were confused and tired. Don't get me wrong, we learned a lot about the island that may be our future home. We know the best place to take guests for outdoor drinks, the best place to catch NFL games during Football season, and that Twin Brothers has the best daiquiris. We learned all about Queen Elizabeth and then Queen Victoria's reign and where the current Prime Minister lives and works. Apparently he was at a funeral that day because the guide pointed out his car at a local cemetery. We drove through downtown horrified that the hooks in the wall where they used to hang slaves for sale, were still visible. We saw the hoity-toity stores that the tourists flock to, and the famous straw market. We learned that Cable Beach got its name for being the point on the beach where the island received all of their cable from the United States. We toured every point of the island and even took a quick hop across the bridge to Paradise Island where we received a tour of the Ocean Club's lobby and private villas. We saw where Oprah vacations, how the truly wealthy live, and learned the name of the Real Estate Developer that we were advised to quickly befriend for his awesome parties.
My eyes held steadfast on the GPS as the hours ticked by and we headed every direction but West (which was the direction of our hotel, and a bed). My head was getting so heavy and my stomach was churning from more twists and turns. Four hours later, we pulled up to the hotel.
The sun was descending quickly but we needed some Vitamin D so we rushed to the last remaining beach chairs for the last few minutes of sun. We were overwhelmed by the day and finally retreated to our room and our bed to try to nap before dinner.
I don't wake up from naps easily so when my alarm went off symbolizing this day was still not over, I was not a delightful person, to say the least. Cranky pants turned into Medusa when the phone rang and Trav's counterparts advised they were meeting us in the lobby in 15 minutes instead of the 45 minutes the itinerary had advised. I had soaking wet hair, high humidity, and 15 minutes to make my first impression. I lost my mind and grew 12 snake heads in one instant. Poor Travis. In that moment, I wanted to die, cry, go home, give up, never hear of the Bahamas again, all at once. I actually cursed God out loud, truly feeling that he had created me to test me. I didn't understand how each step, no matter how small, was such a hurdle!
I have no idea how we made it out of the hotel room, on time, without a noise complaint or a broken window. I wanted to go get drunk and be done with this, but of course when I met their smiling faces, I mustered "oh, so not a problem". And just like that, it no longer was.
We drove to a freestanding gorgeous little restaurant in town and entered through the attached wine shop. The five of us sat outside sipping cocktails and getting to know each other. It wasn't lost on me that I was possibly dining with the first four people hired for this incredible project that would soon become a household name. The one thing I had lost was my appetite so I was very disappointed to settle on cantaloupe as my entree as I couldn't stomach anything else while everyone else's entrees smelled and looked amazing.
I felt myself drawn to one of the personalities at the table that I knew was of the salt of the earth variety. He had been with another hotel brand prior to this and something told me I wanted to know what made him choose this particular project. He told me the story of how he was working for another company when he was approached about moving to the Bahamas, and due to the nature of this project, he felt he had to pursue it. Even though he had strong feelings about the daunting, confusing, and prolonged process that followed. Sounds familiar. He said he was on a business trip for his job at the time, doing due diligence in the Bahamas, when he agreed to meet the same team Travis was meeting on this trip. He explained that he had felt tested throughout the entire process, but something kept him going. My chin was in my cantaloupe. Only hours after I had confronted God about testing me, He was letting me know He had heard me and responded bluntly. He was explaining to me that the world was much bigger then me, and so was the picture at hand. Humbled, I stopped fighting the night, and let it do its thing.
Three hours and two bottles of wine later, we had learned a lot about life in the Bahamas and the close knit family that currently made up this high-profile project. It was organic and refreshing and we felt revived. We fell asleep as soon as we returned to the hotel, as visions of coconuts danced in our heads...
Read Next: #8- Live where others vacation..., Mar 14
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
#6- Golden Ticket!
I jumped up in a panic. I have sixth sense about many things and this time the little voice in my head whispered that this was going to be very bad... I ran to my purse grabbing for my passport. I have changed my Driver's License since getting hitched but was holding off on getting my passport changed because it needed to be sent away for several weeks, while awaiting the new one. What I thought was diligence and being proactive in the event we had little time to prepare for a trip to the Bahamas, turned out to be one of the most costly and stressful mistakes of my life.
I didn't need to look at my passport to know what it said, I guess I was going through the motions for a more dramatic effect. I knew that my passport expired in one month and that was going to cause a big problem getting to the Bahamas in 10 days.
Rewind...
Our Travel Agent for our Wedding made a notation to our Wedding guests that the Dominican Republic (where we selfishly made all of our guests travel for our nuptials) required a passport that does not expire within six months of your arrival date. To be honest, I saw this as a lot of words and unnecessary math for a Bride-to-Be, so I paid little attention. Little did I know...
Fast Forward, one year later...
Google, who had been our Bahamas Guru, clearly stated that the Bahamas had the same restrictions. I could absolutely, undeniably NOT travel to the Bahamas with my current passport. However, we had already received confirmation that BHD was making our travel arrangements (and were probably doing so at that very moment) Come the next morning, we would be on the hook for providing legitimate passport information. We had to think fast. We couldn't explain the situation to BHD because we would be exposed for the dummies we are. We couldn't let them purchase the ticket with the expired passport info, and then pray for their forgiveness if I wound up passport-less at the last moment! Holy crap, this was the dilemma of a lifetime. My first instinct was to get in the shower and cry my eyes out, so I did.
Immersed in steam and "scents of relaxation" body soap, I had an overwhelming calming sense that everything would be okay. I'm not blind to the fact that God is like Oz behind the controls of my opening and closing doors so when he tells me to chill out, I listen. I calmly stepped out of the hot shower; dried myself and my tears; and returned to my spot on the couch. I told Travis not to worry. It didn't matter the cost, or inconvenience, I would figure out how to guarantee myself a passport by the time BHD came calling in the morning.
Day One:
I don't tend to sleep well when my life is out of whack. That's the first part of my life that gets interrupted. So I spent my quiet hours while the world was still slumbering, dong my research. Expediting your passport can be some shady business and I live in the capital of shady town, USA so this was going to be interesting. I went over our options while walking Bob, that frigid Wednesday morning. We could come clean now, saving any backpedaling down the line, and share that I had an issue with my passport and stop BHD from booking my flight. This would require me to stay home while Trav made all of our future life decisions. I wouldn't know what to expect until I was fresh off the boat, arriving island side. My Type A personality shuddered and shoved this option to the bottom of the list. The only other option was to plan a separate trip, at our own cost, back to the island at a later date. This could cost over a thousand dollars to make it happen in the time frame we needed to make a decision, and still wouldn't resolve the passport issue. I had to do what it took to have a passport in my hand in 10 days.
I settled on a passport expeditor and after several phone conversations was advised that I would have my passport, in hand, in 10 days (with a name change due to the recent marriage) for a steep price of $280 which does not include the passport processing fee of $170. Done and done. Of course, before any of the process can even be started, I have to turn over my credit card. I closed my eyes and prayed hard for the best. We were ready for BHD to call with travel plans, we were ready for our trip to the Bahamas.
I ran all over town that day getting everything I needed in-line to mail in. My printer broke that very morning, so Travis had to fill out the electronic form from work, and print it out, while I relayed details over the phone. I then had my passport photos taken, which is a story in itself.
I'm the queen of terrible photographs and a passport photo sticks with you for 10 years. I actually did my hair and make-up for this event which, if you know me, requires extreme motivation. I got to CVS and looking back, I know the kid was messing with me for being that jerk that gets ready for her passport photo, but as he's about to snap the shot, he says "oh, no smiling". What? How come? I would like my outward image to project that I'm a much happier person then I really am, so what's the problem? His response was that it was required that my ears be visible in the photo. Ok, well, when I don't smile, my face seems to droop like I have an ever-present facial abnormality so I was already doomed; and to kick me while I'm down, the kids says "I still can't see your ears" on his next attempt. So I have to physically yank my hair back & pile it behind my ears, all while not smiling, and he catches me mid-blink. No, I don't want to see it. Just tell me how much I owe you. Jerk.
I now have the issue of the marriage certificate because I only have one copy. I'm not sure what else in our future life will require this document; not to mention, this is a pretty important moment, but as an only-child, I don't part with anything easily. It took me half the day to confirm that the original would be mailed back to me with my new fancy passport. A minor victory of the day.
Believe it or not, the only part of my package I wasn't able to complete was the travel itinerary because we still hadn't received it from BHD. It was ironic that I needed to pick and pay for the fastest service because we thought we would be on the hook for travel documents first thing that morning. Now, those exact travel documents were holding up the passport, that I had already paid for. This was the most vicious circle of all. I took a deep breath, I had been assured that if I got the package in the mail the next day, we would still be on track...
Day Two:
Not hearing anything from BHD and needing to get my documents in the mail by noon, Travis reached out, and in response was sent a couple of flight options for the upcoming trip. Each trip had 8-hour lay-overs, each way. The Bahamas is a 3-hour direct flight from New York. There must be some mistake. Travis responded but we didn't hear back. The longer I held my passport documents, they burned a hole in my hands. I called an agent at the passport expeditor and advised that I was having difficulty obtaining the travel documents and they assured me it wasn't an issue. I was promised that I still had time to get them the documents to receive the turn around for my trip...
Day Four:
My $450 dollar passport documents are four days old and pushing expiration. Travis had to pressure BHD and advise that we needed to make arrangements as soon as possible. They sent new flights for our review and things were looking up. They were all direct flights so we were steps closer to getting the travel itinerary I needed to get my documents in.
Travis mentioned that I should probably call to check in again with the passport service to advise we had big hopes of getting the package in the mail that day. I felt strongly opposed to calling again since I had just called the day before, but decided to do it any way, just to show I was doing all I could to make this happen. The gentleman on the phone, very rudely, told me that I had already "missed my appointment, which would incur an additional $100 fee". Additionally, I was "out of luck" because there wouldn't be another appointment until after my travel date. He was making it very clear that it was now impossible to get me a passport in the time-frame I needed, and instead of a refund, I actually owed them more money. You're joking right? Where's Ashton Kutcher because I am definitely getting punked right now. Too baffled to be pissed, I calmly explained to the gentleman that I had been actively calling throughout this process and have never been advised that my appointment was in jeopardy. My voice may have elevated a few octaves when he then advised me that my representative, William, had noted in the file that he had specifically mentioned that important detail to me. It's funny he should mention William, at that moment, because I did in fact receive an email earlier in this process that I had been assigned a "representative" which I found simply delightful until I tried calling Mr. William. His "direct line" is coincidentally, exactly the same as the main line, which just bounces from representative to representative. Who, like sirens of the deep, incorrectly advise "you can speak to William if you need to, but I can certainly help you". I had tried emailing William my questions but these went unanswered. In previous attempts, I had called and asked for William but was told he was on another line and there is no voice message system. The woman so graciously offered to "walk a post-it over to his desk". When I explained these issues to the gentleman who was now trying to gouge me for more money, he said "well, I'm not calling you a liar BUT...your file says William is the only person you have spoken to". I corrected him, still unbelievably calm, and assured him that this was quite impossible. As I'm quite positive the mother of the woman that helped me yesterday did not name her child William. I would also be more then happy to share my emails that were sent to William (that were never answered), with a Supervisor, if need be. He then told me I needed to relax, a woman's universal trigger, which stunned me to silence. As I was asking him to clarify his new found balls, I was interrupted with hold music. I might have subconsciously gripped the closest knife I had in the kitchen as hard as I could.
William's voice burst through the hold music like an angel through the darkness, as he introduced himself and got caught up on the situation. I had relayed the events very calmly and clearly, for which he immediately apologized and removed the $100 fee for the inconvenience. He apologized for the unanswered emails and explained the current dilemma. It was going to cost me an additional $50 to get this passport in time, since my new appointment (which William so graciously "searched and searched" for) would require a shorter processing time, but once the documents were received, I shouldn't have a problem getting this expedited. I sang William's praises and thanked him so much for saving my trip, and my life. It was after I had hung up that I realized I had "sucker" written all over my forehead. Sick me with your bad cop and scare me to death with $100 in cra-cra fees, and no passport; and then send the good cop in who saves the day with a shiny new passport and it's only $50 extra.. What a bargain! Damn, they were good.
At 8:30pm, Travis and I received our travel itineraries for travel to the Bahamas. The clock was ticking. The moment the UPS store opened the next morning, we mailed the passport documents.
The following Thursday, five days before travel, I received an email that my package would arrive that day by 3p. I jumped up every time I heard a truck outside and due to that down-stairs neighbor vendetta I mentioned earlier, I didn't want my valuable item landing on their porch to be tampered with. By 2:45p my legs were sore and there was no package. I had even run downstairs half a dozen times just to make sure. By 4:30p, I began to worry that my precious package had been intercepted by my arch nemesis's. They had taken my packages before, brought them inside their apartment, and then tossed them back out a few days later. I was half-waiting for the notification that the package had been delivered and was prepared to break a window when it wasn't there. At 6pm, I saw it. Like a ray of sunshine peering through the clouds, my golden ticket had arrived.
Read Next: #7- Is it better in the Bahamas?, Mar 13
I didn't need to look at my passport to know what it said, I guess I was going through the motions for a more dramatic effect. I knew that my passport expired in one month and that was going to cause a big problem getting to the Bahamas in 10 days.
Rewind...
Our Travel Agent for our Wedding made a notation to our Wedding guests that the Dominican Republic (where we selfishly made all of our guests travel for our nuptials) required a passport that does not expire within six months of your arrival date. To be honest, I saw this as a lot of words and unnecessary math for a Bride-to-Be, so I paid little attention. Little did I know...
Fast Forward, one year later...
Google, who had been our Bahamas Guru, clearly stated that the Bahamas had the same restrictions. I could absolutely, undeniably NOT travel to the Bahamas with my current passport. However, we had already received confirmation that BHD was making our travel arrangements (and were probably doing so at that very moment) Come the next morning, we would be on the hook for providing legitimate passport information. We had to think fast. We couldn't explain the situation to BHD because we would be exposed for the dummies we are. We couldn't let them purchase the ticket with the expired passport info, and then pray for their forgiveness if I wound up passport-less at the last moment! Holy crap, this was the dilemma of a lifetime. My first instinct was to get in the shower and cry my eyes out, so I did.
Immersed in steam and "scents of relaxation" body soap, I had an overwhelming calming sense that everything would be okay. I'm not blind to the fact that God is like Oz behind the controls of my opening and closing doors so when he tells me to chill out, I listen. I calmly stepped out of the hot shower; dried myself and my tears; and returned to my spot on the couch. I told Travis not to worry. It didn't matter the cost, or inconvenience, I would figure out how to guarantee myself a passport by the time BHD came calling in the morning.
Day One:
I don't tend to sleep well when my life is out of whack. That's the first part of my life that gets interrupted. So I spent my quiet hours while the world was still slumbering, dong my research. Expediting your passport can be some shady business and I live in the capital of shady town, USA so this was going to be interesting. I went over our options while walking Bob, that frigid Wednesday morning. We could come clean now, saving any backpedaling down the line, and share that I had an issue with my passport and stop BHD from booking my flight. This would require me to stay home while Trav made all of our future life decisions. I wouldn't know what to expect until I was fresh off the boat, arriving island side. My Type A personality shuddered and shoved this option to the bottom of the list. The only other option was to plan a separate trip, at our own cost, back to the island at a later date. This could cost over a thousand dollars to make it happen in the time frame we needed to make a decision, and still wouldn't resolve the passport issue. I had to do what it took to have a passport in my hand in 10 days.
I settled on a passport expeditor and after several phone conversations was advised that I would have my passport, in hand, in 10 days (with a name change due to the recent marriage) for a steep price of $280 which does not include the passport processing fee of $170. Done and done. Of course, before any of the process can even be started, I have to turn over my credit card. I closed my eyes and prayed hard for the best. We were ready for BHD to call with travel plans, we were ready for our trip to the Bahamas.
I ran all over town that day getting everything I needed in-line to mail in. My printer broke that very morning, so Travis had to fill out the electronic form from work, and print it out, while I relayed details over the phone. I then had my passport photos taken, which is a story in itself.
I'm the queen of terrible photographs and a passport photo sticks with you for 10 years. I actually did my hair and make-up for this event which, if you know me, requires extreme motivation. I got to CVS and looking back, I know the kid was messing with me for being that jerk that gets ready for her passport photo, but as he's about to snap the shot, he says "oh, no smiling". What? How come? I would like my outward image to project that I'm a much happier person then I really am, so what's the problem? His response was that it was required that my ears be visible in the photo. Ok, well, when I don't smile, my face seems to droop like I have an ever-present facial abnormality so I was already doomed; and to kick me while I'm down, the kids says "I still can't see your ears" on his next attempt. So I have to physically yank my hair back & pile it behind my ears, all while not smiling, and he catches me mid-blink. No, I don't want to see it. Just tell me how much I owe you. Jerk.
I now have the issue of the marriage certificate because I only have one copy. I'm not sure what else in our future life will require this document; not to mention, this is a pretty important moment, but as an only-child, I don't part with anything easily. It took me half the day to confirm that the original would be mailed back to me with my new fancy passport. A minor victory of the day.
Believe it or not, the only part of my package I wasn't able to complete was the travel itinerary because we still hadn't received it from BHD. It was ironic that I needed to pick and pay for the fastest service because we thought we would be on the hook for travel documents first thing that morning. Now, those exact travel documents were holding up the passport, that I had already paid for. This was the most vicious circle of all. I took a deep breath, I had been assured that if I got the package in the mail the next day, we would still be on track...
Day Two:
Not hearing anything from BHD and needing to get my documents in the mail by noon, Travis reached out, and in response was sent a couple of flight options for the upcoming trip. Each trip had 8-hour lay-overs, each way. The Bahamas is a 3-hour direct flight from New York. There must be some mistake. Travis responded but we didn't hear back. The longer I held my passport documents, they burned a hole in my hands. I called an agent at the passport expeditor and advised that I was having difficulty obtaining the travel documents and they assured me it wasn't an issue. I was promised that I still had time to get them the documents to receive the turn around for my trip...
Day Four:
My $450 dollar passport documents are four days old and pushing expiration. Travis had to pressure BHD and advise that we needed to make arrangements as soon as possible. They sent new flights for our review and things were looking up. They were all direct flights so we were steps closer to getting the travel itinerary I needed to get my documents in.
Travis mentioned that I should probably call to check in again with the passport service to advise we had big hopes of getting the package in the mail that day. I felt strongly opposed to calling again since I had just called the day before, but decided to do it any way, just to show I was doing all I could to make this happen. The gentleman on the phone, very rudely, told me that I had already "missed my appointment, which would incur an additional $100 fee". Additionally, I was "out of luck" because there wouldn't be another appointment until after my travel date. He was making it very clear that it was now impossible to get me a passport in the time-frame I needed, and instead of a refund, I actually owed them more money. You're joking right? Where's Ashton Kutcher because I am definitely getting punked right now. Too baffled to be pissed, I calmly explained to the gentleman that I had been actively calling throughout this process and have never been advised that my appointment was in jeopardy. My voice may have elevated a few octaves when he then advised me that my representative, William, had noted in the file that he had specifically mentioned that important detail to me. It's funny he should mention William, at that moment, because I did in fact receive an email earlier in this process that I had been assigned a "representative" which I found simply delightful until I tried calling Mr. William. His "direct line" is coincidentally, exactly the same as the main line, which just bounces from representative to representative. Who, like sirens of the deep, incorrectly advise "you can speak to William if you need to, but I can certainly help you". I had tried emailing William my questions but these went unanswered. In previous attempts, I had called and asked for William but was told he was on another line and there is no voice message system. The woman so graciously offered to "walk a post-it over to his desk". When I explained these issues to the gentleman who was now trying to gouge me for more money, he said "well, I'm not calling you a liar BUT...your file says William is the only person you have spoken to". I corrected him, still unbelievably calm, and assured him that this was quite impossible. As I'm quite positive the mother of the woman that helped me yesterday did not name her child William. I would also be more then happy to share my emails that were sent to William (that were never answered), with a Supervisor, if need be. He then told me I needed to relax, a woman's universal trigger, which stunned me to silence. As I was asking him to clarify his new found balls, I was interrupted with hold music. I might have subconsciously gripped the closest knife I had in the kitchen as hard as I could.
William's voice burst through the hold music like an angel through the darkness, as he introduced himself and got caught up on the situation. I had relayed the events very calmly and clearly, for which he immediately apologized and removed the $100 fee for the inconvenience. He apologized for the unanswered emails and explained the current dilemma. It was going to cost me an additional $50 to get this passport in time, since my new appointment (which William so graciously "searched and searched" for) would require a shorter processing time, but once the documents were received, I shouldn't have a problem getting this expedited. I sang William's praises and thanked him so much for saving my trip, and my life. It was after I had hung up that I realized I had "sucker" written all over my forehead. Sick me with your bad cop and scare me to death with $100 in cra-cra fees, and no passport; and then send the good cop in who saves the day with a shiny new passport and it's only $50 extra.. What a bargain! Damn, they were good.
At 8:30pm, Travis and I received our travel itineraries for travel to the Bahamas. The clock was ticking. The moment the UPS store opened the next morning, we mailed the passport documents.
The following Thursday, five days before travel, I received an email that my package would arrive that day by 3p. I jumped up every time I heard a truck outside and due to that down-stairs neighbor vendetta I mentioned earlier, I didn't want my valuable item landing on their porch to be tampered with. By 2:45p my legs were sore and there was no package. I had even run downstairs half a dozen times just to make sure. By 4:30p, I began to worry that my precious package had been intercepted by my arch nemesis's. They had taken my packages before, brought them inside their apartment, and then tossed them back out a few days later. I was half-waiting for the notification that the package had been delivered and was prepared to break a window when it wasn't there. At 6pm, I saw it. Like a ray of sunshine peering through the clouds, my golden ticket had arrived.
Read Next: #7- Is it better in the Bahamas?, Mar 13
Monday, March 10, 2014
#5- Welcome to Wonderland
It was the Bahamas property calling and things were picking up steam again. Of course they were... Trav had received clearance to meet BHD and Travis was getting the heads up that BHD would be reaching out to him directly to make all of his travel and schedule arrangements.
Wait.
We knew Travis would need to meet BHD but them handling all travel arrangements was surprising to us and took this trip to another level. In the Twilight Zone of confusion.
Fairly quickly a BHD representative reached out via email and asked if they could contact Travis later that afternoon and verified the cell phone given to them. Travis confirmed he'd be available and we waited. We had so many questions. What was this specific trip about? Would it be the only trip we would get to take before making a decision? Would I be included in this trip or would I need to book separate airfare- at the same time Trav was traveling (and last minute) or at another time together,at our own expense?
At 10pm that evening, Travis's phone lit up with an email, from the BHD team, notifying him that they had been trying to reach out all evening and unfortunately had been receiving a busy signal. They confirmed the number. We panicked. First impressions are everything and this was not a good one. Travis quickly replied, apologizing that there must be an error. We tested his phone several times from other lines, and it seemed to be ringing. Travis gave his office number for the morning, in case that was more convenient, and closed again with another apology. However, his office phone didn't ring the next day.
The following evening around 10p, after dinner and reality television had started to set in, Trav's phone rang with an unknown area code and Travis jumped up nervously, knowing it was BHD. He's like me, and wanders around when he's on the phone, so I couldn't hear what was being discussed but I could tell he was using his best "interview" tone. The call didn't last long and afterwards he filled me in on the bare bones that he was able to obtain. The BHD team was going to coordinate for him to fly to the Bahamas to meet with several people on their team. The quick trip would be 3 days and they needed to know how soon he could make arrangements for travel. They advised they would follow up in the next day or so to review dates. And just like that, the list of questions grew exponentially.
We always knew that we would need to make a trip to the Bahamas prior to making a decision to relocate and in all previous talks, it was mentioned that a trip would be arranged for us to tour the island and meet with realtors. But, since this trip was funded and arranged by the Developer and not Trav's hotel group, would there need to be a separate trip for that crucial trip, in six week's time? Trav didn't want to feel presumptuous by asking his Bahamas hotel team "down the line" type questions regarding steps past this upcoming meeting with BHD. He didn't want to ask BHD these type of direct questions, not completely knowing their role in deciding his fate. We tried to wait it out but the questions were like zombies gnawing on our brains. Travis finally sent an email to his contact in the Bahamas and asked our much needed questions. Would there be another return trip to the Bahamas before making our decision? Her answer was No, this was our one-stop shop. She advised that BHD would probably set us up with a realtor to view properties in our "housing allowance budget" and we would get the opportunity for a "city tour" to get a feel for the local salt life. It was confirmed an uncomfortable amount of time later that I would also be included on this trip. Whew!
Just when it seemed that the stressful loose ends were being tied, Travis received an email noting that he would be receiving flight options the next morning and that he needed to provide passport and DOB information for both of us. We were getting closer to making a decision and we both exhaled in relief. And then, I had a thought that made my heart beat straight out of my chest!
Read Next- #6- Golden Ticket! , Mar 11
Wait.
We knew Travis would need to meet BHD but them handling all travel arrangements was surprising to us and took this trip to another level. In the Twilight Zone of confusion.
Fairly quickly a BHD representative reached out via email and asked if they could contact Travis later that afternoon and verified the cell phone given to them. Travis confirmed he'd be available and we waited. We had so many questions. What was this specific trip about? Would it be the only trip we would get to take before making a decision? Would I be included in this trip or would I need to book separate airfare- at the same time Trav was traveling (and last minute) or at another time together,at our own expense?
At 10pm that evening, Travis's phone lit up with an email, from the BHD team, notifying him that they had been trying to reach out all evening and unfortunately had been receiving a busy signal. They confirmed the number. We panicked. First impressions are everything and this was not a good one. Travis quickly replied, apologizing that there must be an error. We tested his phone several times from other lines, and it seemed to be ringing. Travis gave his office number for the morning, in case that was more convenient, and closed again with another apology. However, his office phone didn't ring the next day.
The following evening around 10p, after dinner and reality television had started to set in, Trav's phone rang with an unknown area code and Travis jumped up nervously, knowing it was BHD. He's like me, and wanders around when he's on the phone, so I couldn't hear what was being discussed but I could tell he was using his best "interview" tone. The call didn't last long and afterwards he filled me in on the bare bones that he was able to obtain. The BHD team was going to coordinate for him to fly to the Bahamas to meet with several people on their team. The quick trip would be 3 days and they needed to know how soon he could make arrangements for travel. They advised they would follow up in the next day or so to review dates. And just like that, the list of questions grew exponentially.
We always knew that we would need to make a trip to the Bahamas prior to making a decision to relocate and in all previous talks, it was mentioned that a trip would be arranged for us to tour the island and meet with realtors. But, since this trip was funded and arranged by the Developer and not Trav's hotel group, would there need to be a separate trip for that crucial trip, in six week's time? Trav didn't want to feel presumptuous by asking his Bahamas hotel team "down the line" type questions regarding steps past this upcoming meeting with BHD. He didn't want to ask BHD these type of direct questions, not completely knowing their role in deciding his fate. We tried to wait it out but the questions were like zombies gnawing on our brains. Travis finally sent an email to his contact in the Bahamas and asked our much needed questions. Would there be another return trip to the Bahamas before making our decision? Her answer was No, this was our one-stop shop. She advised that BHD would probably set us up with a realtor to view properties in our "housing allowance budget" and we would get the opportunity for a "city tour" to get a feel for the local salt life. It was confirmed an uncomfortable amount of time later that I would also be included on this trip. Whew!
Just when it seemed that the stressful loose ends were being tied, Travis received an email noting that he would be receiving flight options the next morning and that he needed to provide passport and DOB information for both of us. We were getting closer to making a decision and we both exhaled in relief. And then, I had a thought that made my heart beat straight out of my chest!
Read Next- #6- Golden Ticket! , Mar 11
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