Fast forward to my 20 somethings and I’m on vacation in Jamaica with my girlfriend Brandy, Jamey and his girlfriend Jenn (now wifey 😉 ).
This was a last minute trip for Brandy and I. I can remember Jamey calling me one night and saying, “Want to go to Jamaica”? I was like, “Uhhh, yeah”. I immediately told Brandy the next day about my conversation with Jamey and we started to look into pricing. I actually had a “real world” job at this time so both of us had to get off the same dates as Jamey and Jenn. Luckily it all worked out and before we knew it we were on a plane to Jamaica.
This was my 1st trip out of the states since I was a little kid, so it was quite exciting. I mean I got my girl, my best friend, his girl, and nothing to care about for the next week, what a relaxing thought. So, we land in Jamaica and before we can get into the aged bus to head to our all-inclusive resort, we are presented the option to get some “medicine”, haha. Not that we weren’t considering this option, I mean we were on vacation in Jamaica, but we were much more concerned about just getting to our rooms and unwinding from the flight.
Our rooms were located across from each other down an adjoining hallway, which was really cool. We had our own privacy, but we weren’t far away and we didn’t have to go out into a public hallway to see what’s up with each other. We also had a little balcony type area, in room bar section that they kept filled, and the rooms were real nice/new. Things at this point for me are just going swell, and I’m super happy with how this vacation is playing out.
The all-inclusive part of vacations is great. I was excited every morning to get up and go to the different buffets thru out the day. There was an Italian, Asian, and other types of buffets that I forget now, but you had choices which is always fantastic. The one morning we got up and went to the breakfast buffet (gotta be my favorite) and it was everything I could have wanted. 🙂 After diving into piles of eggs, bacon, and pancakes I was feeling quite stuffed. The others were ready to hit up the beach but I had to make an obvious detour to the bathroom.
Usually a story would glaze past this part, but I have got to tell you about the setup for the restrooms. When you leave the front of the buffet you make an immediate left and then you walk into this open door restroom down a little walkway. Things look normal at 1st glance when you enter, but then when you get to the toilet area they look like prisons. Seriously. This was before the iPhone days, so cell phone pictures were non-existent or sucked, otherwise I would have taken a picture of this. Imagine walking into a closet space, with a concrete wall surrounding you on all 4 sides, that touches the ceiling. Then as you sit down, you close your 2-inch thick metal door to complete the suffocation procedure, and to enter complete darkness. Yes, this door conveniently upon closing left very little room for light or oxygen. Regardless, I had shit I needed to do, so I got to it.
Upon completion of my “business” I was looking forward to nothing more than getting out of this cell, and getting into a game of beach darts. Unfortunately, Jamaica had other plans. The door to get out of my cell seemed to be jammed. OMFG, I started to panic. Not only am I drenched in sweat, but now I’m starting to literally feel suffocated with the added stress of the thought of being trapped in this bathroom. I’m literally beating the shit out of this door trying to get it to open. All I had on me was a prepaid phone with no reception, and a key to our room which had on the most absurd big hard plastic connector that made it impossible to use for any MacGyver shit. It eventually gets to a point where I remember saying to myself, “Holy shit, I have to yell for help”. I start yelling and as my mind continues to panic and think, “I’m going to die in a bathroom, this is fucking great”, I increasingly yell louder. Eventually, some janitor lady comes and opens the door for me. Holy shit did it feel good to have some fresh air and know I wasn’t going to have my life culminate in a Jamaica bathroom buffet shit death experience. I made it a point to tell the lady that door needs fixed and it’s terribly unsafe. She responds, “I’m sorry. Yeah that’s the 2nd time that’s happened today.”