7/27/2016 Dear Mishka. Contemplation on Airports.

7/27/2016.
Dear Mishka

You know, when most people think of airports they think of open airy buildings, crowds hustling and bustling (ok, many stressed and rude) spacious bathroom (not the stalls though), airlines like Delta and American Airlines, and stores where you can pay too much for a magazine, a bag of candy, or much needed shot of whiskey in case you just had a 4 hour flight with 6 toddlers and teething infants on board.  Even international locations, such as San Juan are viewed thusly  Sort of.

Ah San Juan.  We can fly in on a nice big jet.  Roomy, comfy, and are welcomed by a fully modern air conditioned terminal.  But our connection?  There's this little bitty airline known as Seaborne.  Puddle jumpers they are known as.  One over heated flight attendant, wobbly metal stairs to get into a plane 3 seats across, irregular engine noises, possibly duct tape and super glue are involved.  These little beasties do not rate a full terminal.  So when you leave your tidy, wide seat extra leg room piece of heaven, and yes I say heaven because.... wait for it, the shock sets in.

You collect your nifty new bag and head out to see where your connecting flight is.  Oh my, way over there?  Ok.  Start hoofing.  As you twist and turn you notice lights dimming, and sandwich board signs pointing out changes and directing people the other way.  Then you see it, a plywood wall across half the hall.

Your destination lies beyond this ominous portal.  More nervous toddling along.  The lights are visibly dimmed as many overheads have been turned off.  The air is getting warmer.  The stalls and cafes have all gone dark and are stripped clean.  Still you go on through this ghost town.  Then you see it, a light at the end of the tunnel. Salvation!

Your tiny gate shares space with only one other puddle jumper (Cape Air).  You peek around the corner to find the dead end of the airport.  A few dozen seats are there, including a wall desk with a seriously overloaded extension cord powering old lamps and a charging outlet. The desk is manned by a bored looking individual calling the flights as they buzz through.  There is a single tv screen tuned to CNN, blasting the latest gossip and mudslinging in our political and judicial system at full volume.  And there is no air. Nope. None. Not even a cheap fan.  And this is the very end so there are windows all around.  In Puerto Rico. Where it's sunny. And hot.

Did I mention the condition of the tiny restroom in this neglected and forgotten no man's land? No? Good. Don't ever ask, just remember summer camp.

If you haven't fainted by the time your flight is called you step outside the door and down a set of scaffolding-like metal stairs, onto the tarmac and are directed around the corner to where your jumper awaits.  A baggage handler takes away your shiny new carry on (which has no scuffs or dings) to heave it heartily into the under belly. You head for a truly unstable and frightening set of folding stairs to scrunch into a seat designed for a third grader and wait for them to wind the giant rubber band so you can putter your way to 17,000 feet where you can only look down, out the window and find religion.

Happy Travels!



*honorable mention, this is the only airport I have EVER been in where the stall doors open OUT!  Thank God.  My carry on and I do not like fighting for space just so I can close a door and achieve the illusion of private peeing.

5/27/2016 Dear Mishka, 

Listen carefully my child and I will tell you how to handle a situation from the bowels of Danes Hell.  I will somehow tell you about the wonders of the of selling our house in Milan.

When we announced it was on the market, a dear frienof ours, who has regularly visited and seen the house was interested in it as was his wife and new baby. We had informed our current renters that we were coming by on the last day of July, the day they were supposed to leave . Please note that I use the words SUPPOSED TO . We arrived with trepidation and I found myself walking across an overgrown lawn with paving stones laid on it killing the grass and a half dead garden where my lavender and fern garden used to be.  Nervouslywe open the front door with great trepidation to a sign of landlord terror. Directly inside the front door only steps away was all of the furniture appear to have been crammed into the living room and the dining room. Everywhere I looked I saw art taped to the walls, tacked to the walls, pinned to the walls, holes where they had tried to remove nails and shelving screwed to the walls. I almost screamed!  Now let me give you a little information. This house is 130 years old with the original plaster walls . If you put a nail in it, when you remove it the plaster disintegrates. There is an entire paragraph in the lease that says no pins nails screws tape or anything else basically touching the walls other than what already exists. Clearly this didn't mean shit . I cannot even get into the dining room to see what had been done .

In a panic to save the sale I explained to Paul's wife Andrea that I would have everything fixed and good as new in two weeks. We then headed upstairs to see what that looks like. Jesus Mary and Joseph! Have you ever smelled a years worth of cat urine all in the same spot ? Yeah it smells just like what you think. They have let the cat use the carpets so often that it actually was molded,  they say it is because the cat would not use the litter box . This cat used to be ours and we KNOW he was litter trained. In this lovely old house there are wood floors beneath the carpeting. Old who'd.  Wood that absorbs moisture . I proceeded to morph into a small Doberman and do a little bit of barking at this point. It came down to"we don't care"

This was all before I opened up the closet door that led to the attic and discovered that the partially furnished home we rented to them had been stripped of furniture, disassembled and crammed upstairs into a very tiny attic. We have a very narrow tall staircase that I have dubbed suicide stairs. I have no idea how they got this furniture up and then through the door into the attic .

While Paul had seen the house before and had faith in me , Andria wanted nothing to do with it at this point. Sale lost because of these two lazy inconsiderate bums.

Now our return tickets couldn't get changed so we had to go back to the island leaving this mess. Once we got back we called our travel agent and told her to find the fastest flight possible to get me back. Time to put the fear of God into these two bitches. We told them I was coming back but didn't tell them when. I have this reputation for being a real bitch so hopefully that helped.

Just getting down there was a real hoot. You see, the day before my flight left, tropical storm Erica arrived and did an amazing job of wiping out entire towns on this island. One village slid halfway into the ocean, all of the roads were undercut and damaged and just plain washed away, and the rinky dink excuse for an airport was completely flooded .   Rumor has it a few days later they had cleared out.  Ok, let's try it. 

Now with roads gone how was I supposed to even get there? Well here's how the next adventure all started .  We begin by waking up at 3 a.m. so we could walk in the road in the dark at 3:30. What? you expect me to say sidewalk? Silly fool. We hoof along dragging my carry on for approximately 1 mile. We are headed to the newest and safest building on campus that has become emergency headquarters for the University right. Somewhere around 4:00 everyone moving like blind mole rats gather so that we can be stuffed on the buses by 4:30 and trundled down into the little town of Portsmouth to await a water taxi. This is really pretty much just a sort of fishing boat with a lot of seats.

This is approximately the time I have the absolutely delightful privilege did you miss you
of having a vertigo attack hit me as I can see the boat in the distance closing in on the dock.  It wavers about in my eyes that cannot focus any longer. I'm dressed for slow travel wearing three inch heels and managed not to collapse to my knees completely, only partially.  Luckily this was sort of the only escape route so I had not only medical students around me, and a number of mothers and dropping off their children and are going through withdrawl already who immediately took me underwing and insisted that I not go more than 3 feet away from them . Slightly annoying but very touching. Especially since I manage to take care of the vertigo attack and was just fine.  Yay for Jesus blessed pharmaceuticals.

And onto the boat no matter what condition I am in or possibly could become because there's no way I'm staying on the island after all that work. Didn't pay $1,700 for this damned airline ticket for nothing. So finally away we go at 5:30 headed down the eastern coast to Roseau so that we could get on, wait for it, another boat! Did I mention the words motion sickness? Once again cheers for the blessed pharmaceuticals!

This watercraft is a high speed ferry to the neighbouring island of Guadalupe. I choose to sit upstairs, expecting a nice breeze, which is a mistake as it turns out that past off the boat is an airless box stuffy hot and miserable.  I sit in this sauna the whole way, the entire four and a half hour trip it takes to get to Guadalupe (the island is approximately 60 miles away but with an international airport which we all need).

Am I done there? God no. Once we disembark it cattle chute to get to customs, they don't seem to believe in lines, they believe in shoving people out of the way, pushing, stomping on toes, and elbowing you in the kidney in order to get ahead. and we have arrived at 1 o'clock many of us with a 3 o'clock flight. There is enough shouted complaining, mutual elbowing and shoving that the captain finally called overhead to everyone with a three o'clock flight. We are to move to the front. we make it mostly to the front where we then proceed to use our elbows to punch holes into our neighbors. Got through customs? Wonderful! Now you have to go find a taxi.

Another woman and I got the bright idea to walk all the way to the entrance to the ferry dock and snag a taxi before he could even get up to where everyone else was waiting. Ha ! Take that! Guadalupe is literally right within line of sight of Dominica so of COURSE they don't take island currency and there's no cash exchange. We all have to find somebody with the money to pay for the cab in American currency who will share the ride with us. 15 minutes more and we are off toward the airport. Things are looking okay so far. Then we discover we have another cattle chute to go through. This time to get our tickets scanned and our picture taken and an odd little ticket printed out. We go merrily along the process of this (and of course at this point the photograph is nothing less than absolutely stunning)

Then into another customs line, are we having fun yet kids? Things are getting a little tense at this point. Of course thanks to the remaining ghost of vertigo, my adrenalin rushing through my veins like the Kentucky Derby, and my natural tremors (aggravated tenfold by the afore mentioned states into full fledged flapping) the customs agent stops stares at me in the eye and says "you're shaking a lot is something wrong?" I can just see myself suddenly being taken away to detention for quivering like a rabbit in a gun sight. I very quickly claim Parkinsons, my favorite lie. I am cleared for take off.  I go barreling through the airport along with numerous other people where we hop onto assorted flights in the joy of finally winging our way into Miami. Oh look! I traveled through another country I have more customs to go through. I have an hour and a half to get through the Miami Airport and customs. I'm glad I don't have to check my bag because my gate is not, I repeat NOT, anywhere nearby and I'm almost out of time. They're boarding now and I'm still at the other end of the airport.

Let the real charge begin.  " Ladies and gentlemen they're off ". Did I mention I had moved into flip flops? Those were my choices, flip flops or the 3 inch heels. An announcement blares overhead. They are still boarding that plane. Oh loo, one of those skytrains, let's run catch it!

But to ensure the fun continues let's run the wrong way for a good stretch of concourse first. That's the ticket! Don't look at the watch, don't look at the watch, don't look at the watch, look at the watch. Freak. Up onto the sky tram. Now we are only 15 minutes late. The sky tram arrives where we leap like gazelles off of the tram. Gazelles being chased by a hungry pride of lions. Myself and one other young man who's on the same tram go barreling down the hall headed for the same plane. I'm not sure how he gets there well ahead of me..... I don't remember sitting and taking a short nap? It might be because he's 6-2 and has legs longer than God intended.  I run to the gate to find an empty waiting area. The doors closed. This is not good, my eyes begin to tear up as I run up to the desk and ask "am I too late am I too late?" The flight attendant looks at me and stares like a disapproving nun for a moment and says "Are you Pamela?" Something inside of me sinks slowly to the ground and burrows a hole, crawls in it, and begins to cover itself up to die.  "Yes" I squeak.  They reopen the gate and I go scampering down that jetway, flip flopping the entire way, and make it to my seat, 1A. First class.

I go to raise my bag into the overhead and the young man I recognize from the tram gets up to assist me. I can't help it, part of my brain simply wondered, "How the hell did you get here before me?" As we're doing so the attendant is kind enough to ask if she can get me a drink while I'm getting settled I pause for half a heartbeat and look her straight in the eye and say "a shot of Jack on the rocks", hell after that morning I deserve it.. The young man that has been through the entire travail with me stops what he's doing looks at her and says "that sounds like a really good idea me too". Well I may be stuck paying the high price of first class but by god I'm going to get all the goodies and eat and drink my way through it. I'm wondering what my trip home from Michigan will be like? Oh goody goody. Because on the way back to the island my schedule so far is that I fly on the 19th into Miami and then from Miami to San Juan . I've got to stay the night in the San Juan Airport Hotel, a nasty dive but hell, when you're the only hotel, why waste money on rooms. So on Sunday I fly into Guadalupe. But there are no ferries from Guadalupe on Sundays so I have to spend the night in yet another truly remarkable dive where I sleep fully clothed on top of the bed. That means I catch the ferry on Monday. You can't reserve the ferry tickets in advance so currently I have no idea if I'm going to go and be able to purchase my ferry ticket. And when I hopefully get back on the island how am I going to get back to Portsmouth, will roads be open after the storm? Will I have a cab willing to risk the trip? Will I have to find a water taxi? How do I find a water taxi? Those were arranged by the school before! I have this feeling that I'm not going to see home for a long time. And I'm not going to enjoy a minute of it. Stay tuned in kids this story ain't over yet.

This panicked trip, bought at the last minute, cleaned out our bank account but there was no one I dated ask to take on this monumental task.  I needed two weeks so no easy carry on, this time was the pain in the ass of checked luggage. Since Seaborne was a joke, I arranged to get there about three hours early. I wanted to be first. Hell. I wanted to freaking teleport to Michigan.

*** Something amusing I heard over the loudspeaker in Detroit:
"So and so airlines now boarding flight 2171 to Las Vegas"  This was repeated twice at 5 minute intervals and then... "Final call for Vegas Barb and Ken McGee, last call if you want to go to Vegas, otherwise there are very nice casinos in Windsor." Totally deadpan. Or almost. ...***

Back to the house.
It took them until the middle of August to get their crap out. It took me flying back from the island emergency time to clean up, a last minute ticket costs$1,600.  So I start by hiring a handyman to patch over 40 holes (I counted until I had to stop) in the assorted walls including a section where the plaster had been completely torn off and where shelving had been screwed in . I was ballistically angry and ready to take them to court for breaking their lease, including not being out by the last of July and not paying for the first two weeks of August. Matt pointed out you can't get blood from a stone since one of them had quit her job to go back to school and the other was unemployed. Don't ask me why they would do this when renting, and including not applying for unemployment in the first place, I give up on understanding how their brains don't work. On our first trip we had no choice but to simply tally what we could in the house and head back to the island because our plane tickets could not be changed from an August 1st return.

Once we got on the island Matthew called and told them that his wife was coming back soon, we did not tell them how quickly. It took me two weeks and over $1,600 in airfare to get back to Michigan. By this time they had removed their belongings but left all of mine stuffed into closets, attics and the basement. Fury is such a teeny tiny word compared to my emotions . Also, every single person that we have ever helped move never showed up to help us. No matter how many times we asked for help.   Not one.  Fuck them all. Only one man who had previously broken his back came along and I was concerned about him despite his protesting he was fine. And an old sewing student of mine who did yard work. I told her I would pay her $200 if she could get that yard in order including mowing it weeding the gardens trimming the bushes etc. and making it look decent before my ticket expires. I then paid her boyfriend the same amount of money to carry all of the furniture and throw it out at the curb because I have no idea how to reassemble it nor do I have a way to get it into storage by myself . There was a damn nice and brand-new wardrobe in there and I couldn't even figure out where the screws were.  I was in tears watching it go. There was of course the handyman, Molly maid, (who had to come out twice because the first crew didn't really clean anything and the second crew that started out with two but calling others until the ended up consisting of six people). I had to rent a car since we sold ours when we moved out of the country and I needed to make sure it had trunk space to move the few things that I was determined to save . There was more money down the drain. I had to purchase paint, plaster and assorted other repair supplies to get this house in order. Even the porch had to be stripped and painted. I started at 7 AM every morning and ended at 9 PM every night where twice I fell asleep in my dinner plate. I cried myself to sleep numerous times .

After two weeks the house was still not finished and my tickets had come up and I now had to fly back to the island again . At least we were down to just the handyman doing the work that remains, painting the dining room and re-plastering the walls, patching walls and repainting the living room, touching up paint in the upstairs bedroom , caulking the bathtub , sanding and repainting the porch . No, of course I had no intention of saving money for the rest of my life, I always wanted to spend over $3,300 on this (die you two wenches die!).

Final word on the house, it took 8 months and repairs to water heater and electrical but that Turkey SOLD!  $4,000 loss, $7,300 with repairs but who cares at this point? We are gone!

I have promised Matthew not to publish the names of these two women but believe me I would like to put them up in screaming red neon after what they did to me, my house and completely disregarded a legal document that they had signe

March something...Dear Mishka

The spouses coastal cruise

So the faculty spouses outing headed out once a week on an adventure which is primarily our excuse to drink, bob about in the ocean, glasses of wine in hand, and flop in the sun, beer nearby. In the past we've gone to waterfalls, played in the sea, shopped in the capital, eaten great food..and now there was this, the exciting first time coastal cruise.  There was a beautiful one previously for faculty where we stopped at different coves to look at reefs and caves and snorkel our way down the coast.

BUT.......Then there was this experience, it was like we had passed God off.. We arrived and there was an empty dive shop with a locked boutique above in what resembled an old barn, and a shabby dock, with no boat. Last year I agreed to sell jewelry in the now locked boutique so we got him to open it to see my jewelry (that they were not selling). It was no where in sight, everything was covered in dust and I hadn't seen a dime. The trip better be better than this crapola.

Out away to the water we could see a sort of cross between a tourist boat and a fishing trawler.  Oh god no, we all hoped.  Yep. Our Captain was a paunchy guy on his own with skinny first mate-ish.  the sweaty guy in a swimsuit took our $95 each and led us down to the rickety dock, pointing out loose boards for us not to step on. There,  sitting low in the water was a rough dingy. Bobbing about with three boards stretching across it as if for stability......NOPE!

We were told we had to climb down and somehow jump into the boat, then sit on one off the boards. Whaaaaaat?

I managed it in a leap that they tried to wave off (like there was another way to get 6 feet down?) but I had timed it so my tail landed on a board (seat). For christs sake, some of these women are 15 year ex-pats and 60 - 70 years olds!  Not to mention a physically disabled member. How the hell they got in I will never know.   Only a few of us fit at a time without tipping the dingy over. so we wobbled back and forth and held on for dear life as we loaded up, careful to stay on our side so we didn't tip over and then we headed for, you guessed it, the little boat..we were helped up by Mr Paunchy and now sweaty who grabbed us and bodily yanked us up..  I didn't get a grip and as I slipped I laughingly called out "Going down"!

My cohorts laughed with me but our captain was not amused and yanked me up, HARD..... ouch.  SOB.

Once we got both boatloads there and every one aboard he told us to stay evenly dispersed on the boat or risk tipping over.  TIP OVER?  Gosh this was already worth my $95.  One of the other women and I discussed how unhappy everyone was.  We were then offered the promised refreshments.......  a small cooler of juice or water.  This was our choice. 

There was only enough cover on the boat for about 4 people at a time, the rest were stuck in the sun so we had to rotate to avoid terrible sunburn.  Our cruise never stopped for the advertised snorkel spots until we about had a coup and demanded he stop at a popular spot where we could jump in and cool off..

At long last we arrived at our goal, the Romance Cafe at Mero beach.  But wait, where's the dock?  Instead we maneuvered in sight of the cafe for about 30 minutes to a semi shallow part.  We then had to unceremoniously climb down the dive ladder, land in chest high water where they handed us our belongings which we balanced on our heads and waded to shore.  Oh the dignity and relaxing adventure.

The Romance Café did their best to deal with approximately a dozen customers and the single kitchen. We were used to this and knew it would take about a half hour to get our food . Once we receive it we all enjoyed a leisurely lunch and then headed down to the beach where we could lay on beach chairs beneath the new cabanas and enjoy the warmth of the sand and the water. 

Once we got stretched out in the chairs, opened our books and laid-back, suddenly Captain Paunchy leaned down on the horn repeatedly. You have got to be kidding me! He had decided that our adventure was over and we had to all gather our things, balance them on our heads, and wade back out to the boat where we tossed our belongings up to be caught and set aside before we wobbled our way up the ladder again . We wanted to kill them by now.

Of course at some point on the way back the weather had changed and the wind picked up.  This meant waves in all directions.  I watched our skinny first (and only) mate spin that wheel all the way left, then all the way right, over and over trying to meet every wave head on.  This resulted in skewing about like an Olympic snow skier in a pine forest, in addition to bouncing.  God bless my Zofran and lack of faith in boats.

And of course what are waves and whitecaps and nausea without the addition of freezing cold rain. The only amusement we had was a rainbow that actually splashed down into the water. If you've never seen a rainbow that actually ends in the water it's about the neatest thing in the world. It looks like paint cans of all colors were  poured down . Environmentally friendly paint of course.

We all tried cramming ourselves underneath the itty-bitty cover only to discover that the wind blew the rain right inside. Some of the oldest of our ex-pats we covered up with towels as best we could to attempt to keep them dry, warm, and still partially alive for the most part . At last we arrived back in the bay. Thank freaking God. We were all cold, soaking wet, and pissed off . There was also no sign of the dinghy anywhere in sight . We waited for about 20 minutes and then began ranting and raving to Captain Paunchy. He at last got on his cell phone and called the captain of our useless little dinghy. The dinghy was still in the river nearby and the driver, the son of a bitch, was warm and dry inside and didn't want to go outside and get wet . I didn't hear what the captain actually said but I suspect it was along the lines of I'm going to turn these women loose on you if you don't get out here

While waiting for our little wooden tub we asked the captain why in the name of God he didn't just tie up to the dock. He explained that the cleat had been pulled loose by a previous boat that had docked there and forgotten to untie before pulling away. He didn't actually explain to us why he never got around to repairing the goddamn thing instead of shipping us all out on these little canoes. However he was kind enough to point out to us one more time the loose boards that we shouldn't step on or we might fall through and into the water if we didn't actually break a leg .

I made sure complaints were made to Carol about the fact that we spent so much money and got basically a miserable time . She looked surprised . Do you want to know the real surprise? A recent suggestion for an outing included doing this again! No amount of alcohol in this world could possibly get me on this trip, I will sing karaoke first . 

7/25/2015 Dear Mishka. How to sell a house

Dear Mishka 

 To sell a house in a hurricane.  My husband's definition is to call a realtor, close your eyes, then stick your fingers in your ears and hum real loud until they tap you on the shoulder and say it's done.  I wish.  NOPE!

So, let me tell you about the wonders and the joy of selling our house in Milan.

A dear friend of ours who has regularly visited and seen the house was interested in renting with an option to buy, as was his wife and new baby. We had informed our current renters that we were coming by on the last day of July, the day they were supposed to leave . Please note that I use the words SUPPOSED TO . Upon walking across an overgrown lawn with paving stones laid on it killing the grass and a half dead garden we open the front door with great trepidation to a sign of landlord terror. Directly inside the front door only steps away was all of the furniture appear to have been crammed into the living room and the dining room. Everywhere I looked I saw art taped to the walls, tacked to the walls, pinned to the walls, holes where they had tried to remove nails and shelving screwed to the walls. I almost screamed!  Now let me give you a little information. This house is 130 years old with the original plaster walls . If you put a nail in it, when you remove it the plaster disintegrates. There is an entire paragraph in the lease that says no pins nails screws tape or anything else basically touching the walls other than what already exists. Clearly this didn't mean shit . I cannot even get into the dining room to see what had been done .

In a panic to save the sale I explained to John's wife Sally that I would have everything fixed and good as new in two weeks. We then headed upstairs to see what that looks like. Jesus Mary and Joseph! Have you ever smelled a years worth of cat urine all in the same spot ? Yeah it smells just like what you think. They have let the cat use the carpets so often that it actually was molded,  they say it is because the cat would not use the litter box . This cat used to be ours and we KNOW he was litter trained. In this lovely old house there are wood floors beneath the carpeting. Old wood.  Wood that absorbs moisture . I proceeded to morph into a small Doberman and do a little bit of barking at this point. It came down to the renters saying basically "we don't care"

This was all before I opened up the closet door that led to the attic and discovered that the partially furnished home we rented to them had been stripped of furniture, which they then disassembled and crammed upstairs into a very tiny attic. We have a very narrow tall staircase that I have dubbed suicide stairs. I have no idea how they got this furniture up and then through the door into the attic .

While John had seen the house before and had faith in me , Sally wanted nothing to do with it at this point. Sale lost because of these two lazy inconsiderate bums camped out inside.

Now, our return tickets couldn't be changed so we had to go back to the island leaving this mess behind Once we got back we called our travel agent and told her to find the fastest flight possible to get me back. Time to put the fear of God into these two lazy bitches. We told them I was coming back but didn't tell them when. I have this reputation for being a real bitch so hopefully that helped.

Just getting down there was a real hoot. You see, the day before my flight left, tropical storm Erica arrived and did an amazing job of wiping out entire towns on this island. One village slid halfway into the ocean, all of the roads were undercut and damaged and just plain washed away, and the rinky dink excuse for an airport was completely flooded .   Rumor has it a few days later they had cleared out.  Ok, let's try it. 

Now that the fury of the storm is over it was time to go ahead and travel

😱------------------------------------------------😱
How was I supposed to even get there? Well here's how the next adventure all started .  We begin by waking up at 3 a.m. so we could walk in the road in the dark at 3:30. What? you expect me to say sidewalk? Silly fool. There be no sidewalks here matey.  We hoof along dragging my carry-on suitcase for approximately 1 mile with me dressed for travel. We didn't dare ask anyone to get up at that ungodly hour and drive us so there's your mental picture. The two of us, me dressed for travel hauling a rolling suitcase along the side of the road hoping to God we don't get smacked by a fast-moving car. Or mistaken for a bunch of cows in the road.

I say dressed for travel because I can't stand people that show up in their pajamas and slippers as a way of moving around an airport. For me it is always a set of heels, nice slacks or jeans and a pleasant top and jacket. Dress well for a good impression I always say. And you want customs agents and homeland security to take you seriously. It's hard to impress someone while wearing pajama pants with little duckies and pink bunny slippers. 

Cases went out on a priority basis which of course meant I was last . We had to catch a bus first.

Somewhere around 4:00, everyone moving like blind mole rats, we gather so that we can be stuffed on the buses by 4:30 and trundled down into the little town of Portsmouth to await a water taxi. This is really pretty much just a sort of fishing boat with a lot of seats.

This is approximately the time I have the absolutely delightful privilege of having a vertigo attack hit me just as I can see the boat in the distance closing in on the dock.  It wavers about in my eyes that cannot focus any longer. I'm dressed for slow travel wearing three inch heels and managed not to collapse to my knees completely, only partially.  Luckily this was sort of the only escape route so I had not only medical students around me, also a number of mothers suck on the island while dropping off their children.  These women are going through withdrawal already so they immediately took me under wing and insisted that I not go more than 3 feet away from them . Slightly annoying but very touching. Especially since I had already taken care of the vertigo attack and was just fine.  Yay for Jesus, Mary and Joseph blessed pharmaceuticals.

And I am getting onto the boat no matter what condition I am in or possibly could become because there's no way I'm staying on the island after all that work. Didn't pay $1,700 for this damned airline ticket for nothing.

So finally away we go at 5:30 headed down the eastern coast to Roseau so that we could get on, wait for it, another boat! Did I mention the words motion sickness? Once again cheers for the blessed pharmaceuticals!

This watercraft is a high speed ferry to the neighbouring island of Guadalupe. I choose to sit upstairs, expecting a nice breeze, which is a mistake. It turns out that the boat is an airless box, stuffy hot and miserable.  I sit in this sauna the whole way, the entire four and a half hour trip it takes to get to Guadalupe (the island is approximately 60 miles away but with an international airport which we all need).

Am I done there? God no. Once we disembark it is time for the cattle chute to get to customs, they don't seem to believe in lines, they believe in shoving people out of the way, pushing, stomping on toes, and elbowing you in the kidney in order to get ahead. and we have arrived at 1 o'clock many of us with a 3 o'clock flight. There is enough shouted complaining, mutual elbowing and shoving that the captain finally called overhead to everyone with a three o'clock flight. We are to move to the front. We make it mostly to the front where we then proceed to use our elbows to punch holes into our neighbors. Got through customs? Wonderful! Now you have to go find a taxi.

Another woman and I got the bright idea to walk all the way to the entrance to the ferry dock and snag a taxi before he could even get up to where everyone else was waiting. Ha ! Take that! Guadalupe is literally right within line of sight of Dominica so of COURSE they don't take island currency and there's no cash exchange. We all have to find somebody with the money to pay for the cab in American currency who will share the ride with us. 15 minutes more and we are off toward the airport. Things are looking okay so far. Then we discover we have another cattle chute to go through. This time to get our tickets scanned and our picture taken and an odd little ticket printed out. We go merrily along the process of this (and of course at this point the photograph is nothing less than absolutely stunning).

Then into yet another customs line, are we having fun yet kids? Things are getting a little tense at this point. Of course thanks to the remaining ghost of vertigo, my adrenalin is rushing through my veins like the Kentucky Derby, and my natural tremors (aggravated tenfold by the afore mentioned adventure) have increased into full fledged flapping.  So the customs agent stops stares me in the eye and says "you're shaking a lot, is something wrong?" I can just see myself suddenly being taken away to detention for quivering like a rabbit in a gun sight. AND MISSING THE DAMNED PLANE!!!!  I very quickly claim Parkinsons, my favorite lie. I am cleared for take off.  I go barreling through the airport along with numerous other people where we hop onto assorted flights basking in the joy of finally winging our way into Miami....and civilization. Oh look! I traveled through another country so I have more customs to go through. I have an hour and a half to get through the Miami Airport and customs. I'm glad I don't have to check my bag because my gate is not, I repeat NOT, anywhere nearby and I'm almost out of time. They're boarding now and I'm still at the other end of the airport.

Let the real charge begin.  " Ladies and gentlemen they're off ". Did I mention I had moved into flip flops? Those were my choices, flip flops or the 3 inch heels. An announcement blares overhead. They are still boarding that plane. Oh look, one of those skytrains, let's run catch it! Flip flop faster!

But to ensure the fun continues let's run the wrong way for a good stretch of concourse first. That's the ticket! Don't look at the watch, don't look at the watch, don't look at the watch, look at the watch. Freak. Up onto the sky tram. Now we are only 15 minutes late. The sky tram arrives where we leap like gazelles off of the tram. Gazelles being chased by a hungry pride of lions. Myself and one other young man who's on the same tram go barreling down the hall headed for the same plane. I'm not sure how he gets there well ahead of me..... I don't remember sitting and taking a short nap? It might be because he's 6-2 and has legs longer than God intended.  I run to the gate to find an empty waiting area. The doors closed. This is not good, my eyes begin to tear up as I run up to the desk and ask "Am I too late am I too late?" The flight attendant looks at me and stares like a disapproving nun for a moment and says "Are you Pamela?" Something inside of me sinks slowly to the ground and burrows a hole, crawls in it, and begins to cover itself up to die.  "Yes" I squeak.  They reopen the gate and I go scampering down that jetway, flip flopping the entire way, and make it to my seat, 1A. First class. Thank you God.

I go to raise my bag into the overhead and the young man I recognize from the tram gets up to assist me. I can't help it, part of my brain simply wondered, "How the hell did you get here before me?" As we're doing so the attendant is kind enough to ask if she can get me a drink while I'm getting settled I pause for half a heartbeat and look her straight in the eye and say "a shot of Jack on the rocks" hell, after that morning I deserve it.. The young man that has been through the entire travail with me stops what he's doing, looks at her and says "that sounds like a really good idea. Me too". Well I may be stuck paying the high price of first class but by god I'm going to get all the goodies and eat and drink my way through it.

This panicked trip, bought at the last minute, cleaned out our bank account but there was no one I dared ask to take on this monumental task.  I had to get there. Hell. I wanted to freaking teleport to Michigan. When we landed I honest to God put in my earphones and played the University of Michigan fight song.  I almost sang along, as it was I hummed.

*** Something amusing I heard over the loudspeaker in Detroit:
"So and so airlines now boarding flight 2171 to Las Vegas"  This was repeated twice at 5 minute intervals and then... "Final call for Vegas Barb and Ken McGee, last call if you want to go to Vegas, otherwise there are very nice casinos in Windsor." Totally deadpan. Or almost. ...***

Back to the house.
It took them until the middle of August to get their crap out. It took me flying back from the island emergency time to clean up, a last minute ticket costs$1,600.  So I start by hiring a handyman to patch over 40 holes (I counted until I had to stop) in the assorted walls including a section where the plaster had been completely torn off and where shelving had been screwed in . I was ballistically angry and ready to take them to court for breaking their lease, including not being out by the last of July and not paying for the first two weeks of August. Matt pointed out you can't get blood from a stone since one of them had quit her job to go back to school and the other was unemployed. Don't ask me why they would do this when renting, and including not applying for unemployment in the first place, I give up on understanding how their brains don't work. On our first trip we had no choice but to simply tally what we could in the house and head back to the island because our plane tickets could not be changed from an August 1st return.

Once we got on the island Matthew called and told them that his wife was coming back soon, we did not tell them how quickly. It took me two weeks and over $1,600 in airfare to get back to Michigan. By this time they had removed their belongings but left all of mine stuffed into closets, attics and the basement. Fury is such a teeny tiny word compared to my emotions . Also, almost every person that we'd called for help never contacted us back. Someone could have at least called to say no is all. I know I'm a bitch, but these are Matthew's belongings and his home too. Only one man who had previously broken his back came along and I was concerned about him despite his protesting he was fine. And an old sewing student of mine who did yard work. I told her I would pay her $200 if she could get that yard in order including mowing it weeding the gardens trimming the bushes etc. and making it look decent before my ticket expires. I then paid her boyfriend the same amount of money to carry all of the furniture and throw it out at the curb because I have no idea how to reassemble it nor do I have a way to get it into storage by myself . There was a damn nice and brand-new wardrobe in there and I couldn't even figure out where the screws were.  I was in tears watching it go. There was of course the handyman, Molly maid, (who had to come out twice because the first crew didn't really clean anything and the second crew that started out with two but calling others until the ended up consisting of six people). I had to rent a car since we sold ours when we moved out of the country and I needed to make sure it had trunk space to move the few things that I was determined to save . There was more money down the drain. I had to purchase paint, plaster and assorted other repair supplies to get this house in order. Even the porch had to be stripped and painted. I started at 7 AM every morning and ended at 9 PM every night where twice I fell asleep in my dinner plate. I cried myself to sleep numerous times .

After two weeks the house was still not finished and my tickets had come up and I now had to fly back to the island again . At least we were down to just the handyman doing the work that remains, painting the dining room and re-plastering the walls, patching walls and repainting the living room, touching up paint in the upstairs bedroom , caulking the bathtub , sanding and repainting the porch . No, of course I had no intention of saving money for the rest of my life, I always wanted to spend over $3,300 on this (die you two wenches die!).

Final word on the house, it took 8 months and repairs to water heater and electrical but that Turkey SOLD!  $4,000 loss, $7,300 with repairs but who cares at this point? We are gone!

I have promised Matthew not to publish the names of these two women but believe me I would like to put them up in screaming red neon after what they did to me, my house and completely disregarded a legal document that they had signed.