|Some as big as your head!|
First off, please notice my new blog layout (but don't pay attention to the right column as you scroll down ... it's still wonky) and be underwhelmed. It took an embarrassing amount of time, and I don't have much to show for a day of neglecting my child. But I like how the poodle looks ghostly. What do you think? Not enough white space? Not enough color?
So the drug deal. Nathan and I went on a cruise last spring to celebrate his graduation while cashing in on impending employment. Graham was old enough to be abandoned into the loving arms of his grandparents, so we jetted off to the Caribbean (okay, first we jetted to Houston, and then chugged on a ship around the Caribbean).
One of our ports of call was Montego Bay, Jamaica ... a colorful place. Our excursion of choice on the island was a zipline tour through the jungle. We were transported from the beach to the jungle in lovely air-conditioned vans.
|Not the air-conditioned van, but the six-wheeled "Pinzgauer" that took us from "base" to the top of the mountain.|
The harnesses make us look paunchier than we are.
The zipline adventure occurred without major incident, though I did notice that several of our guides had that suspicious/gross long pinky fingernail that I associate with drug-doers and The Good Earth. As long as they weren't partaking while also being responsible for fastening me securely to a cable suspended a hundred feet above the ground ...
|Please don't be higher than the zipline.|
We survived and even got to chew on some raw sugar cane. I felt like a monkey (although the only primate native to Jamaica is extinct). Then we got back in the vans to head back to the beach. It was there I witnessed the exchange ...
We were all buckled in, waiting for our driver to show up, and show up he did, though not at the driver's side. He appeared at the sliding door with one of our guides. He opened the door, and removed a plastic panel covering the step, revealing a secret compartment! What would he pull from its depths? A manilla folder full of confidential documents? A jewel the size of a monkey's skull? Was the whole zipline tour a coverup for a covert jungle operation?
Unfortunately, my desire for intrigue was disappointed when he pulled a baggie of what looked like lawn clippings from the compartment. He gave it to our guide in exchange for a wad of money, and that was that. Uh ... what happened to my Jamaican James Bond experience? A secret compartment for a Ziploc of marijuana? Didn't they know you could buy that in a cute little brown paper cone down the mountain in town? Psh. We were still fresh from Provo, though, so it was kind of exciting in a "we're about to be driven down a treacherous mountain road by a drug dealer, and I can't believe they did that right in front of us!" kind of way.
That is my story. I want to go check my minivan right now to see if there is potential for a secret compartment, for all my Cinnabon receipts.