Paranoid in Paradise

Stinkybean’s comment on my last post reminded me that I still owe Osbasso an explanation for my Nekkid Paranoia Incident. The timing couldn’t be better since said incident occurred 9 years ago this week.

Way back in 1997, we spent a glorious honeymoon week at the Couples Resort in Ocho Rios, Jamaica. In addition to all the wonderful amenities usually found at all-inclusive resorts, Couples also has its own little island. To get there, you take a short ride in a little motor boat, and upon arrival you must shed your clothing. Yep, it’s a naked island, and the only person wearing clothes is the bartender. So, you step out of the boat, strip, and then find a lounge chair or shaded hammock in which to enjoy the sun in all of your glory. There are ALL kinds of people out there. All ages, all sizes, and all levels of "grooming." At almost 30 (we married 10 days before my birthday) I was one of the youngest people out there. There were grannies, for cripes sake! I know it’s hard to believe, but after about 5 minutes, the weirdness wears off and it’s just plain fun! Everyone is sooooooo friendly, and the drinks plentiful and “free” since it’s an all-inclusive. The bar is located at the pool, and it’s sunken so that you can sit on stools in the water. Lot’s of partying going on at the pool! Naked people carrying on perfectly normal conversations. I found it pretty amazing that the men managed to avoid getting an erection. Well, except for this one guy who was pretty much avoided. I caught my husband checking out a young pretty girl who was sitting on the side of the pool, sporting completely bare nether-regions. He must have been picturing his mother to control his nether-regions, ‘cause let me tell you, he is ALL about the bare!

When you are in Jamaica, you are well protected within the confines of your resort, but if you leave the grounds, you are fair game for all of the locals trying to sell you anything from hand-carved wood to hair-beading. One morning, my new husband went for his morning run, and then returned rather soon, racing to the safe in our closet and grabbing his wallet. Seeing the quizzical look on my face, he explained that a local had tried to interest him in a lovely carved pipe. After politely admiring the pipe, he had asked whether or not the guy had anything that might go in the pipe. “Ya Mon, meet me back here in an hour.” Ergo, the mad rush to the safe. My husband ran off again, and returned later with his score of fine Jamaican ganja. The guy had even thrown in his own rolling papers. Jamaicans are so friendly!

We went out to the balcony of our suite and enjoyed our purchase. Once we were well lit, we decided it was time to head out to the island. This time, for some reason, the boat seemed unusually tiny and rocky and the ride took an ETERNITY! By the time we reached the dock at nekkid island, I was feeling a little woozy, but I figured it would pass so I stripped out of my bikini and stuffed it in my bag. We located two empty lounge chairs on the end of the island (See the far left end in the picture above? That’s where we were.). The island is man-made and the edges of it are made up of rocks that slope down into the water. My chair seemed awfully close to the edge, and those rocks looked incredibly jagged all of a sudden! I scooted my chair a few inches away from the edge, spread out my towel (you never know if the last nekkid person who inhabited the chair had cooties) and got settled in with my book.

I tried to read, but I couldn’t get past a few sentences without having to go back and re-read what I had just read. It wouldn’t stick, and my mind kept wandering, so I put the book down and just relaxed. Tried to relax, rather. The sound of the waves crashing on the rocks below was so LOUD that I looked over my shoulder and was immediately gripped with panic by how close I was to the edge. “Oh my gosh, I’m gonna fall in the ocean!” “No hon, you’re not. You’re really not that close.” “Yes I am!” And I got up and scooted my chair a few more inches inland.

I got settled again on my chair, laid back and closed my eyes, and began to daydream. About something... What was it? What was I just thinking? Damn! (searching searching searching memory) Oh yeah! I was thinking about…what was it? It’s right there. I can feel it. It was…oh yeah! I was thinking…shit!

The sound of the waves crashing on the jagged deadly rocks below got my attention again, and I glanced over my shoulder and “OH MY GOD! Look how close I am! I’m gonna fall over the edge and get completely shredded.” “Hon, really, you’re not that close,” The Hub said with amusement. (Hmmm, does he want me to fall in the ocean? Is he one of those guys who pushes his bride off of the mountain?) I got up and scooted my chair a few more inches away from the deadly drop-off.

I tentatively reclined on my chair, eyeing the killer rocks with suspicion. Once again, I closed my eyes, and began to daydream. What was I just thinking? Cripes, why can’t I maintain a train of thought? (searching searching searching memory) Oh yeah! I was thinking about…what was it? Arrrrrgh! Oh yeah! I was thinking…something…shit!

Repeat this scenario several more times. My groom is now rolling with laughter because I have, by now, scooted my chair to middle of the island and I'm convinced that the homicidal edge is following me.

After I had remained quietly in my chair for some time, he inquired “Hon, what are you thinking about?” Long pause. Heavy sigh. “Nothing. But I’m thinking it a lot!”

The man enjoyed a good laugh at my expense, and then suggested that maybe we should return to our suite before the killer rocks got me.

Is it any wonder that I haven’t been the least bit interested in partaking since then?