The Last Paranatural

Chapter 6

"Thank you for flying Sandpiper Air. Have a wonderful day."

The lady gave me back my passport and ticket, and I boarded the plane.

I smiled at the pilot, and went back to sit down in my first class seat. Damion had missed the first part of school to see me off. He was so sweet... As I pulled my iPod out, I could still practically taste his lips on mine... We'd known each other for only a few short days, and already I feel like I can't live without him... This was going to be a long week. Or, however long we're going to be there...

.~*~.~*~.~*~.

I looked at the guy who had just sat down next to me.

"Bonjour. Je m'appelle François."

Fun. French. I gave him a small smile. "Je m'appelle Maritza."

He smiled back, "Enchanté."

The stewardesses told us all about emergency procedures and all that, and then it was time to take off. I looked up a few seats to see father turning off his cell phone, and I turned my iPod off.

I retrieved my copy of 'The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes' from my bag, and François started talking again.

"Vous faites un voyage les vacances?"

I thought for a second. Travel... And... Vacation.

I nodded, "Oui."

"Je vais séjourner à la Rose Hall."

I nodded, pretty sure he said he was staying at Rose Hall. The same place I was. Joy oh joy...

"Moi aussi."

He smiled, and then sat back as the plane jolted forward and started gaining speed. Then, we were in the sky.I could tell he was French; he had a very authentic accent, not to mention the native ability to speak it rapidly. And, of course, a very popular French name. I wondered why he was in New York, and heading to Jamaica. And that's just what he told me.

I didn't finish one page of my Sherlock Holmes.

.~*~.~*~.~*~.

Finally, we landed. I filled out a little sheet of paper, and then we unloaded the plane and got in line for customs. I've always hated this part. The lines were always too long, and they took even longer.

François decided he wanted to go to the currency exchange counter, and I was GREATLY relieved. He talked WAY too much. I stood next to father, who looked almost lost without his laptop, phone, other phone, or BlueTooth. Still, he didn't talk to me.

I listened to the conversations around me. There were lots of honeymooners, two or three families on vacation... I ended up watching the couple in front of us. I really think they could've waited until they got to their resort to kiss like that, but hey. It's Jamaica, mon. They're probably here for the lowered drinking ages at 18, probably the Bob Marley bus tour (which was complete with marijuana)...

But still. I couldn't stop thinking about Damion.

.~*~.~*~.~*~.

FINALLY, after who KNOWS how long, we were called to a desk. I gave the man my passport and driver's license and then answered questions about myself and our trip. He stamped a page in the passport and called for the next people in line.

We went to the baggage claim and got our bags, and then father arranged for a car rental.

We got a small black convertible and I put my things in the trunk as father put his in the back seat, and sat next to it all.

"Guess I'm chauffeuring," I said under my breath.

I put the address of the resort into the GPS app on my phone, and got into the front seat, driving off.

I'd been there once, or maybe twice, before, so I knew to beware the buses and such. Stay in the right side. As a Jamaican bus driver once said to me, 'The left side is the right side, the right side is suicide.'

I finally made it to the resort and a valet took the car after someone else took out luggage out, loading it all onto a luggage cart.

It was super hot there, even in the fall.  This is why I worshipped the man who invented air conditioning. We went into the lobby and were offered drinks with tiny umbrellas in them... It was nice. We don't usually come to islands and such, so it was a nice change from the usual 4 or 5 star hotel.

Everyone was so nice. I loved it. We checked in and went up to our room.

Our bags were already there and I looked around. It was really nice... Of course, I'd be sleeping on the sofa, but it was so comfortable, I didn't really give a fuck.

After settling in, I put on a black bikini and then my black and white damask cover-up, then slipped on my flip-flops. Removing my regular makeup, I put on waterproof mascara and eyeliner. I put my hair up into a ponytail, made sure I was happy enough with my look, and then headed down the elevator, and then outside. I passed a big main pool and went to the right, passing the lunch stand, walkway to the tennis courts, henna and airbrush tattoo stand, table tennis tables... God, they had everything!

I passed another restaurant/bar, Mangos, and found a shady spot by the lazy river pool. This was an amazingly built place... I set my phone on low and cracked open my Sherlock Holmes book.

I had read 10 pages when a cute staff member asked if I needed anything, handing me a small list of drinks and foods. I skimmed over it and handed it back to him, smiling.

"I'll just have a piña colada, please."

"Virgin or no?"

I blinked. Then I remembered. Right. Alcohol or no alcohol.

"No."

He smiled, "No problem, mon."

No, I wasn't 18 yet, so technically I was under Jamaican drinking age. But I've been drinking alcoholic drinks since I was like 15, starting when we went to somewhere in Europe. I don't remember it very well now, but the legal drinking age was very low.

Anyways, since then I've usually been able to pass for old enough. I don't over-drink, of course. That would be idiotic. I do limit myself per hour.

Within maybe three or four minutes at the most, there was a piña colada in my hand, a smile on my lips, and a cute staff member asking my name.