Little did I know that cold, drizzly day in early January of 1985, in Jacksonville, Florida, that when I answered my office phone, I had just quit my J.O.B.


The voice on the phone tugged at my heartstrings. It was my old friend, Island Eddie. “Go to the airport,” he said, “get on a plane, and fly to Georgetown in the Exuma’s. I’ll meet you on the dingy dock at the Peace and Plenty Hotel at happy hour.”


Naturally, I was never one to argue so I left the office, mumbling something about an errand. First stop was my newly purchased, as yet unnamed, 50-foot boat. (Later to be known as ‘Sorry Dog’…hmmm, I wonder why?) After all, I did have to pack something. However, Island Eddie’s girlfriend, Joanie, a longtime traveler of the islands had taught me well. 


• Rule 1: When traveling through the islands wear just enough jewelry that if you get over there and get broke you can sell it and buy a ticket home.
 
• Rule 2: Travel light. You can always swap a beer for what you need.
 
• Rule 3: Always take enough beer to get back home.


Moreover, I’d only be gone seven days.


I threw seven t-shirts and seven swim shorts in a tote bag and slipped on my faithful flip-flops. I looked around, my mind reeling with the decisions of what to take and what to leave behind. Then I thought, heck, I don’t need anything else. I’ll be back in a week. 


Time was of the essence. Unaccountably, I felt this inner siren rising, urging me on, her whispered voice, breathless with heated anticipation, blinding me to the past… and to the consequences. I turned off the lights of my now defunct Christmas tree and left. 


The siren continued to serenade me with wild, yet barely glimpsed visions all the way to the airport. Once I had my ticket to Georgetown firmly in hand, it was time to face that one last chore. Both my boss and my girlfriend were less than thrilled when I called them from the airport saying, “I’ll be back in a week!”


My first clue that I had quit my J.O.B. (I still can’t say the word.) came during happy hour at the Peace and Plenty Hotel. By that time, Island Eddie and I were both well oiled. “I’ll make you a deal. If you get on the boat and go with us,” wheedled Island Eddie, “we’ll go all the way to St. Croix in the Virgin Islands.”


I had no real knowledge of St. Croix but the siren was once again calling. “How far is that?” I asked. 


“About 2000 miles from Jacksonville,” Eddie replied casually. “It should only take two to three weeks.” 


Now any responsible person would have jumped ship immediately to save their J.O.B. and girlfriend. I agreed to go. After all, that siren’s call is irresistible.

(
He told me later that once I got aboard his 38 foot trawler, aptly named the ‘Hiatus’, that had I not agreed, I would have been kidnapped and taken along anyway.)


Since I was never one to waste an opportunity, I traded the remainder of my round-trip airline ticket to the bartender for a round of drinks. It was only proper to make a toast to our newest adventure.


My boss and girlfriend sure are gonna be happy. Seven days-yeah right. 

To Be Continued…