Andrea was already fairly well traveled when we met, having done stints in Germany, Brazil, and Ecuador. In this, we're a great match because she complements my own wanderlust. Together, we've crisscrossed the US and touched down on three different continents. I love exploring with her and prefer destinations neither of us has seen so we both experience the locale with new eyes.
There are exceptions, and one is in the Carribean. In the summer of '89, I found myself on shore leave on the island of St. Croix in the US Virgin Islands. The boat I was attached to was ordered out on a short shakedown cruise and I either didn't have the clearance or the crew thought a greenhorn midshipman would just get in the way. Regardless, putting me ashore was the easiest solution.
So, at 19, I found myself on a tropical island paradise of sun drenched beaches and gently rustling palms surrounded by aquamarine water.
All Navy vessels docked on the island's west end in Frederiksted. One of the local bars was the preferred Navy hangout judging by the massive collection of ship's plaques that covered every available inch of its walls. During my and my shipmates' stay at this establishment, I teamed up with the boat's quartermaster for a dart tournament. We took on all comers and won the day. An impromptu trophy of a child's wooden play block became one of my most prized possessions.
Something else of note about the local bars - local ordinances stipulated they lock their doors at some point in the early morning hours. However, there was no requirement for the bar to actually close. If a party was going full swing at 0200, you didn't have to go home, but you'd be locked in with the rest of the revelers until the doors opened again later in the day.
On that length of beach, I learned pina coladas with their frou-frou paper umbrella garnishes were for sissy tourists. The real tropical beach drink of choice for USS Seahorse sailors ashore was a painkiller made with Pusser's Rum. It was with one of these libations in our hands that the boat's cook and I struck up a conversation. At a whisker over 6 feet, he was almost too tall for the submarine service. In true mariner fashion, he picked up the nickname, "Stump". Stump's retirement dream was to come back to St. Croix and open a burger joint on the beach. We heartily toasted to the success of this future endeavor.
On the opposite end of the island was the tourist town of Christiansted. I hitched a ride with some sightseers heading that way and spent the day wandering the streets. It was at Christiansted where I first tried snorkeling and also where I had my first experience on a kayak.
While Andrea will tell you she's not a beach person, I still want to take her here. I think she'd appreciate the stunning scenery and sailing. I wouldn't mind chartering a catamaran to do some island hopping. For all its beauty in my memory, St. Croix is not the most common tourist destination. This would mean minimal crowds - another win for me. She and I could also explore a small rainforest preserve that was marked out of bounds for the crew on my first visit. And I'd also like to look up Stump to see if he made good on starting his beachside burger joint.
All we need to do is pull the trigger and get "two tickets to paradise". The late Eddie Money's 1978 hit will, of course, be locked and loaded on our playlists.
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