White Orchid

Frank and I don’t travel enough to be used to traveling. We spend too much time packing and then waiting. Even though our plane didn’t leave Puerto Rico until 12:30 PM, we weren’t comfortable spending the morning doing much besides getting ready to go.

Frank’s goal for the morning was to ship beach clothes home via UPS. We had already found a store just a short walk from our favorite restaurant for breakfast, Mi Casita. Sadly, we found that the windows were papered over and the store was closed. Our waitress misunderstood our intent and gave us directions to a US post office that didn’t have packaging for a flat-rate delivery. On the most humid day of our trip, Frank went on an unproductive search that ended with his repacking his suitcase with his beach clothes.

I experienc

ed my own frustration. Throughout the week, I had been throwing my dirty clothes on the closet floor. When I started pulling them out to pack them in my suitcase, I found that they were soaking wet. Either the tub in the adjacent bathroom had leaked water onto the closet floor, or the maid had slung water under the folding door when she mopped the tile outside the closet. After I discovered the mess, I took a deep breath and found enough plastic bags to keep wet and dry separate.

Determined not to let these minor setbacks leave us with a negative memory of Puerto Rico (we’d long forgotten the waterless-no-public-restroom-San Juan-experience from two days before), Frank took a Xanax and watched the ocean from our room with the air conditioning set at 65, and I grabbed my camera to get last shots of the orchids in the hotel’s garden.

We made our flight and Frank especially enjoyed the extra leg room that’s part of Jet Blue’s appeal. Both of us enjoyed the free in-flight movie, Up. None of us (include the poor lady sitting next to me on the plane) enjoyed the moment when my body decided to react to the milk that must have made the morning’s oatmeal taste so good. IBS struck again.