[If you want to view the entire Flickr photoset for this trip, here’s the link!]

Since we only had a 4-day weekend in the Bahamas, I booked us the earliest flight possible: 5:15am. That meant getting up at 3:00, but it would get us into Nassau by noon. The flight to Atlanta was uninteresting; the one from there to Nassau put a little fear in our hearts as apparently Delta is in the habit of overbooking every single flight ever. When we got to the gate there, they were offering people vouchers to be bumped. We finally got seats assigned, but they were separate.

I ended up as the exit row girl, bravely offering my services to save everyone’s life in case of a water landing. Stephanie ended up in the back row between two of the nastiest dudes on the planet. They were part of a group of five who were going to the Bahamas to celebrate a 50th birthday. These five very large men were already drunk and offensive, asking the flight attendants for help with their safety belts. Stephanie had the window seat, but the guy who had claimed it wouldn’t give it up; he insisted she sit between them. She spent the next two hours trying to keep from vomiting in disgust. I, of course, was happily oblivious, peering at the ocean from above.

clouds over the atlantic ocean

I never realized how close the Bahamas are to Florida. I was also really surprised to see the color of the ocean along the coast of the islands. I expected it would look like Hawaii, but it’s totally different.

providence island from above

We flew over Grand Bahama and were shortly over New Providence Island. The island isn’t very big at all; it’s only about 20 miles across. We landed and climbed out of our little plane onto the tarmac (something that will always be immensely charming to me). I waited for Stephanie to exit the jetway, irate. She was preceded by the slimy guys, who were oozing the scent of alcohol and sweat.

We went through customs and found our shuttle to the hotel. Though the airport is only 12 miles from Nassau, the drive through town takes forever. Our driver, Charles (‘in charge’), told us that the roads hadn’t changed since colonial times: narrow streets, sharp turns, driving on the left (as Charles put it, “the left side is the right side, the right side is suicide”). Add to that the fact that half the traffic is made up of jitneys (little buses) and minivan-taxis, and driving there is insanity. There’s no way I’d rent a car there.

Charles in Charge forgot that we were staying in Nassau, so he went right across the bridge and started dropping people off on Paradise Island, so we got a free tour of the resorts. Of course, we didn’t realize he had passed our hotel until we actually left Providence Island. He realized his mistake and got us on another bus (driven by Frankie) that was headed back across the bridge. Of course, Frankie had to make a few stops, too. We quickly learned that Bahamaians have a very, very different concept of time. ’15 minutes’ is code for ‘a half hour, if you’re lucky.’

We checked into our hotel and headed into downtown. It was in the mid-70s and sunny, that warmer-climate sun that I’ve started to crave on a regular basis: the kind that requires those not-from-there to wear sunscreen at all times. We walked up Bay Street and peeked into a few tacky tourist shops before finding lunch at a second-story restaurant with a patio overlooking Bay Street.
Another discovery we made quickly, but not unexpectedly: it’s hard to be vegetarian in the Bahamas. It’s all about seafood. We picked the only thing on the menu that didn’t include meat: grilled cheese. We listened to a couple Canadian guys macking on two cruise-ship employees at the next table while we ate and watched the activity on Bay Street.

nassau parliament

We decided to vaguely follow the walking tour in the travel guide to get a sense of Nassau, except they forget to have street signs a lot. Once we figured out the scale on the map and realized that everything in downtown is within about 6 blocks of everything else, we were set.

palm trees and blue sky!

We walked up and down Bay Street, saw all the parliament buildings (they follow British law, so it all seems a little more formal than in the U.S.), and then headed uphill to find the Queen’s Staircase.

‘the most famous sign in the bahamas’

We found a set of stairs that didn’t really seem to be anything spectacular, except it took us up to the top of the hill to Fort Fincastle. It was so similar in looks to the citadel in Budapest, it was freaking me out, except for the absolute lack of snowstorm. There was a drive circling it, and the back portion was lined with little carts selling souvenirs. It was some really weird deja vu.

We decided that probably wasn’t the correct staircase, so we went back down to the bottom and noticed what looked like a ravine to the right of us. We looked down into it and found what we were looking for.

queen’s staircase

We climbed up and down the stairs and declared the Queen’s Staircase mission complete. The stairs go from downtown Nassau to ‘Over the Hill’, which is the area where people actually live, outside the touristy areas. Not that Nassau itself is super-touristy; there’s Bay Street and the wharf where the cruise ships dock, but apart from that it’s mostly just a regular city one would expect on a little island: it’s poor, run-down, and dirty. Which I like, because that means it’s authentic. It’s the kind of place that would make my mother very uncomfortable, clutching her purse in fear.

We went back down the hill to Bay Street, then walked down to Prince George Wharf, where the cruise ships hang out, in the harbor between New Providence and Paradise Islands. What should we find there but Starbucks?

We sat there on the balcony watching the ships and the people walking up and down to the Straw Market. We were tired, having arisen at 3am, and we were very confused about the time. We knew we were in the eastern time zone, but weren’t positive that they followed daylight savings. It was either 5 or 6pm. Stores were closing, but the ferry was still running, so we figured it had to be almost 6.

We walked back to our hotel and looked through the book to find a place for dinner. We weren’t sure where most of them were located and didn’t want to take a taxi or walk too far in the dark (the travel guide only warned us not to about 40 times), so we decided to check out the restaurants at the British Colonial Hilton a few blocks down the street. Our hotel was across the street from the beach, so every time we walked along it, one of the women permanently stationed there offered to braid our hair, and some guy offered to give us a free tour of Atlantis, presumably in exchange for being sold timeshares.

We went to the fancy restaurant at the Hilton. We’d have felt really out of place there, except everyone else was dressed in semi-beachwear as well. The food wasn’t great, but it was easy. And I got to try Kalik, the Beer of The Bahamas. Which was really good stuff.

By the end of dinner, we were giggly and sleepy. We walked back to the hotel, and stopped short as we turned the corner into the alleyway: there were three wild dogs there, chasing each other. We had a moment of fear, but the dogs ran past us without paying us much heed. We went to bed early and slept hard.

Friday morning, I awoke at 5:30 because the sun was already up. We put on bathing suits and sunscreen under our clothes and went to breakfast in the hotel. From the dining room there, we could watch the cruise ships pulling into the harbor.

A shuttle came to pick us up to take us to the harbor on Paradise Island, and we were not surprised to see that it was Frankie again. Watching Frankie drive, I was surprised we arrived anywhere safely; he only seemed to be watching the girls on the street, turning to look back at each of them as we passed. We got a tour of the Paradise Island hotels again, and then he dropped a busload of us off at the marina.

on the catamaran

We boarded the boat and went up to the top deck, even though it was only in the 70s. There was sun, dammit, and we were going to enjoy it. We laid in deck chairs and watched the islands disappear into the distance as we went out to sea.

It took about an hour to reach Rose Island, a little sliver of land that seemed to have only one property on it apart from the tour company’s outpost. On the side where the boat docked was a stairway leading down to a little inlet, which opened out onto the reef where we could snorkel. The other side of the island was a beautiful white-sand beach lined with palm trees with hammocks. On the top ridge of the island was the large deck where they served lunch. They had bathrooms, changing cabanas, two bars, and an equipment house with snorkels, sea kayaks, and floaty things for kids. That little island was hooked up.

island dog

We got masks and snorkels and headed down to the inlet. The water was cold, but it was just a matter of dunking a couple times and yelling loudly to get used to it. A couple showed us how to use the snorkels correctly; they didn’t allow flippers because they damaged the reef.

snorkeling

I thought it would be really disconcerting to breathe underwater, but it was fine. We could even talk to each other through the snorkels. We both had trouble getting the mask to seal completely, so water would slowly seep up around our noses as we swam. It didn’t really bother me to have water in the mask until it started fogging over, and then I discovered the real fun when I went to empty it: for some reason, whenever I came out of the water, I’d automatically breathe in through my nose. Salt water up my nose and out my mouth; I nearly threw up (we called it chumming the waters). After doing that three or four times, I finally managed to force myself to not breathe in while I ripped the mask off my face. YUCK.

Besides that, though, I loved snorkeling. It was amazing. Yeah, I know all those fish I see in aquariums actually live in the ocean, but I didn’t expect to see them right there. I didn’t see fish at first, and then I started to notice them hanging out in the shelter of corals, looking at us. Then I saw them everywhere. We saw friendly blue fish and nervous green fish. We saw eel-like fish peeking out of holes in the coral. We saw purple fan coral and yellow brain coral. I was experiencing the Discovery Channel live. When they called us for lunch, I didn’t want to go.

Here are several of the shots I took with my disposable underwater camera. The composition isn’t great, but I was kind of wearing a mask at the time. If you look closely, you’ll see a bunch of fish.

one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen

rose island (reef side)

We had lunch up on the deck, from which we could see both sides of the island. It was really windy, but the sun was warm. We ate beans and rice, bread, and bananas from a giant pile of fruit in the center of the complex. We took advantage of the ‘unlimited free wine’, which was served from gigantic glass jugs (but was totally boxworthy).

perfect beach

After lunch, we went down to the beach side of the island. The waves were huge. I stood in the surf laughing my head off as each one hit me and I stumbled to stay standing. After getting knocked down twice, I followed Stephanie down the beach to explore.

exploring the beach on rose island

She disappeared on one of the secluded beaches down the shore; I decided to head back and lay in the sun. A couple guys from New York were swimming nearby, but otherwise we had the whole thing to ourselves. Right as she got back, it clouded over, and even rained for a few minutes. We gathered our things and wandered around the island for a while, then finally decided to hang out in hammocks. A bunch of the older people from the boat apparently spent the afternoon on the deck drinking the unlimited free wine, which seemed kind of silly to me when there was ocean and palm trees and hammocks to be had. You can sit on your own porch and drink cheap wine whenever you want, really.

in a hammock

The sun is out in full force until around 3:30 or 4 in the Bahamas, and then clouds start to come in the closer it gets to dusk. Stephanie insisted on riding on the top deck of the boat again on the way back, even though it was cold in the wind, without the benefit of the sun. I was wearing my bathing suit, tshirt, board shorts, hoodie, and I had wrapped myself mummy-style in my beach towel, but I was still cold. I demanded to know why we always have to be hardcore (even though I already knew the answer). We didn’t go downstairs until it started to rain.

The entire group of 25 or so were down on the first deck. The female half of the couple who had given us snorkeling advice was beyond drunk, presumably on unlimited free wine. She was demanding loudly that her husband get her another beer, that she needed help in the bathroom, and that she really really wanted to hold one of the New York couples’ babies. She sounded like a loud, whiny four-year-old, and it was something to behold. New York guy came and talked to us for a while, and he was drunk on unlimited free wine, too. There was a dad dancing in a really frightening way with his teenage daughter at the back of the boat. So, boat ride back to Nassau? Quite a spectacle.

We got back to Paradise Island, and everyone shuttled back to their hotels, saying bye to everyone else as they left. All the old people were pals, and as each couple got off the bus, the others would review their life stories out loud. I was glad we were the last ones off the bus.

We hurried to change at our hotel, because we wanted to go back to Paradise Island, but we weren’t sure how late the ferry ran. The sign said 6, but that was Bahamas time, which meant ‘whenever we feel like it’. My hair was turning blonde, and was completely straight from swimming in the ocean, but it looked awesome. It’s unfortunate that I cannot reproduce that look at home, but there is sadly no ocean about.

We walked down to the dock and waited for the ferry. It was about 5:45. At ten after six, we gave up and walked up to Bay Street to get a taxi. It costs $8 plus the $1 bridge toll to get from downtown Nassau to Paradise Island. The fares are set by the government because they used to have so much trouble with tourist-overcharging.

paradise island

We planned on exploring Paradise Island the next day, so that night we were just in search of dinner. There were four or five restaurants in Atlantis, but they were all really upscale and we were underdressed. We walked the length of the resort, then followed signs pointing to restaurants that were located outside; they turned out to be located in Marina Village, a cute little walk lined with shops that really, really reminded me of Downtown Disney.

We picked a restaurant called Bimini Road, and it was exactly the right choice. I fell in love with our server right away, an older woman who called us ‘honey’ and ‘baby’ (of course, everyone in the Bahamas calls you ‘honey’ and ‘baby’, but from her it was actually charming). She put a basket of plantain chips on the table, and we ordered drinks: I had an orange mojito I’m still fantasizing about to this day, and Stephanie got the pina colada she’d been wanting since we got there. I had a mushroom wrap with taro chips that was awesome. We stayed there a really long time, for once appreciating the fact that everything moves at such a leisurely pace there. I had a drink with rum and tamarind that I could barely touch, so Stephanie played wounded soldier: no one left behind. We tottered back towards Atlantis, weaving through a bunch of women dressed like showgirls, representing the Junkanoo Parade later that night.

crazy glass sculpture at the atlantis casino

I wanted to play video poker in the casino for a while, because I’m totally cheap and $20 lasts forever in that game (in Vegas, you can sit there for two hours playing $20 and get $25 worth of drinks, just FYI). The machines didn’t take Bahamian dollars, so I played the $6 American I had on me. I while later, I cashed out with $10. Oh, I am a high roller indeed. IN YOUR FACE, ATLANTIS!

We went out front of the resort to get a taxi back to Nassau. Our driver introduced himself as Gilbert, and proceeded to ask the usual questions: where we were from, how long we’d been there, first time in the Bahamas? By the time we got to the other side of the bridge, he had cranked the music as loud as he could, and announced that we were riding in The Party Taxi. For a minivan-taxi (as all taxis are in the Bahamas), it was pretty pimped. He even had XM radio.

Gilbert next announced, “Did you know that it’s legal to drink and drive in the Bahamas? We never have any alcohol-related accidents here because they don’t test for it!” He asked if we wanted to party, and made a move to pull over in front of a liquor store. We said no, no, we were tired and going back to the hotel. He tried to convince us otherwise. Gilbert liked to party. Everyone in the Bahamas liked to party. He had a cold six-pack of Kalik up front, and a case in the back. Gilbert was prepared for ANYTHING.

His conversation got more and more suggestive, and I could tell Stephanie was about to throw punches. I, however, was in hysterics. Gilbert was trying SO hard. He had his routine down. And as long as he got us to our hotel and didn’t take us to an alley to rape us, he could talk about it as much as he wanted.

I asked him a bunch of questions to try to distract him. We talked about the clubs downtown. He said they were frequented by an equal mix of tourists and locals; he liked to go there because he preferred white women. He then made some statement about why he preferred white women, but luckily it was drowned out by the music and I missed it. He tried his best to convince us to stop somewhere with him, but I told him we weren’t up for partying. Stephanie said she wanted to go to bed, so he announced that he could hear her bed calling his name. Gilbert was AWESOME.

We got to the hotel, and he opened the door for us. As I handed him his ten bucks, I went to shake his hand, because every shuttle-and-taxi driver there shook hands. He grabbed me instead and hugged me; I moved to allow him the least body-contact possible, and as I did so, he swung around and kissed my neck. He handed me his card, and told us to call if we wanted to have some fun tomorrow.

And that, my friends, is the last time I saw Gilbert. But if you want to have some fun in the Bahamas, he’s your man.

Saturday morning, we got up and walked downtown. We got coffee, and since breakfast food is hard to find, we stopped into the supermarket. I got a banana and some apple-and-sultana-filled crackers called ‘Go Ahead’ that I ended up buying a ton more of and bringing home. YUM.

straw market

We braved the straw market, which even without a hundred tourists inside was chaotically crowded. It was the typical souvenir schlock, but there’s always something charming about the constant pestering to stop and look, the ‘baby’, ‘honey’, and ‘beautiful’. I found a big straw bag to tote my hoodie and travel guide around in, and offered the boothkeeper $8 for it. I didn’t realize til later what an awesome beach bag it is, too.

carving a parrot

We shopped up and down Bay Street, then walked all the way down to East Bay, about a mile from downtown. We went down under the Paradise Island bridge to Potter’s Cay, a market made up of booths selling seafood and produce. The mail boats make their deliveries down at the end of the dock, so the items for sale at the market are truly fresh off the boat. Apparently, most of the restaurants buy their supplies there.

fresh conch: this guy asked for a hug for this photo

Their most popular item is conch. You can get conch in endless forms everywhere in Nassau, and several of the booths were serving it at picnic tables out front. We looked at all the booths and headed towards the East Bay side of the bridge, looking at the harbor.

this thing goes in the ocean?

A couple blocks down, we reached our destination: the Poop Deck. Yes, we totally went there because the name made us laugh every time we said it. And also because it got good ratings in the travel guide.

the poop deck

We got there at 11:40, and the guy there told us they didn’t serve lunch til noon. We asked if we could hang out, so we ordered drinks and waited. The restaurant looked out on the harbor and Paradise Island.

kalik: the beer of the bahamas

We ate a small lunch, because there wasn’t much on the menu that wasn’t seafood. I had a coffee with rum, because I’m still nostalgic about comfort coffee in Prague. We left the place giggling and headed back towards the bridge. Because we’re hardcore, we had decided to cross to Paradise Island (PI, for those in the know) on foot.

look hard at this photo to see a sunken ship, a sinking ship, and a bunch of cruise ships docked at port.

paradise island bridge with the famous mail boat

paradise island from the bridge

We headed east on Paradise Island, towards the portion that was not part of Atlantis. I was glad that the map’s scale was a little off, or we wouldn’t have walked it in the heat; it was quite a ways further to our destination than I expected. We passed the entrance to the only public beach on the little island, and headed up towards the One & Only Resort, which hosts the Versailles Gardens.

the cloister

At the top of the hill at the south end of the gardens lies the Cloister. It was imported piece by piece from France in the 1920s by William Randolph Hearst, but not reassembled until it was purchased by the A&P heir and placed on that site. They didn’t have any instructions for putting it back together, so they guessed.

the cloister

It was a remarkably serene and beautiful place, and seemed so in a more authentic way than the rest of the island. Everything else there is so manicured and well-maintained, it has an air of unnaturalness to it. Some people enjoy the luxury and exlusiveness of those fancy resorts, but I am not one of them. I like authenticity.

harbor from the cloister

We walked down through the Versailles gardens, which reminded me a lot of some of the gardens near Lake Harriet, only much more over-the-top. Some of the statues were beautiful, and they were all very different from one another.

water lily

in versailles gardens

versailles gardens with cloister

um, fdr.

We tried to cut through the One & Only Resort, but were denied. We went back to the main road, and turned at the public beach sign. Near the entrance was a neverending line of taxis, and a woman directing us to the beach. The path was lined with cotton trees, covered in puffs of cotton.

public beach on paradise island

We didn’t have our beach stuff with us, so we didn’t spend much time there. The waves were even higher than they were the previous day on Rose Island. There was a huge crowd of college kids sitting on the steps to the beach bar.

We walked over to Atlantis, this time to actually see the resort, since everyone makes such a big deal of it. It’s very much like one of the fancier Vegas casinos, Caesar’s Palace or the Bellagio. I wanted to get a peek at the beach there, but it’s nearly impossible to get anywhere on the beach side of the complex without proof you’re a guest. We had the sense that we’d be thrown in the brig if we tried to slip past security.

yachts parked in the marina

We went back down to Marina Village to cool off and relax. We had been in the sun for several hours, and were feeling it. Stephanie got ice cream, and I got iced coffee. We sat outside on the wall and watched the passers-by, gawking at the insanely hootchie outfits on some of the women. Again, I was reminded of how much Atlantis is like a Disney property: it’s totally perfect and clean. Bright colors, friendly staff, the smell of a lot of money. Considering the conditions in Nassau, it’s kind of ridiculous. It’s like it’s there to shelter people from the reality of a poor place.

We walked around the outside of the building, and ended up back in the casino. We headed out the other side towards the beach. Finally, we saw it. They had a huge complex set up, but of course it was just for guests. The rest of us could walk along the balcony and peer at it, however.

the lagoon at atlantis

While we were standing there taking photos, a woman came up and poked at my arm. She asked, “Are those yours or henna?” I said they were mine. She launched into a monologue about all the great tattoos she’d seen there on the island. She was drunk off her ass, and amusing as hell, as was her husband, Curtis.

We were expressing some frustration over not being able to get nearer to see the beach, so they assured us that there was a way to do it if you knew how. They had managed to sneak onto the beach earlier in the day. They set off with us in tow, following the balcony towards the far end. Along the way, we saw a guy feeding the huge fish in one of their several aquariums.

atlantis: the bridge-like room costs $2,500/night. minimum 4-night stay.

It soon became apparent that Curtis and Jess really had no idea where they were going (even though they were convinced they knew). We didn’t mind, because they were fun to talk to. We walked up and down, and finally it occurred to them that they had probably come into Atlantis from the beach itself, walking down from the public area. It was time for them to head back to their cruise ship, so we said goodbye.

We wandered around Atlantis a while longer, then decided to catch the ferry back to Nassau so we didn’t have to pay for a cab again. The ferry only costs $3 each way, and it’s awesome to be out in the harbor with the cruise ships.

cruise ships

They crowded as many people on the little ferry as possible, and everything seemed a little rickety. I had the seat closest to the back (the stern, duh) so I could take photos as we left. I leaned back against the railing to turn around, and it gave. It was held onto a post by twine. Thankfully, I did not fall off a ferry boat into the ocean.

nassau waterfront

straw market with cruise-people

The big cruise ship days in Nassau are Tuesday and Saturday, so the straw market was mobbed when we reached the dock. As we had several times already, we walked past Señor Frog’s, the notorious spring break bar originally from Mexico, and I asked Stephanie jokingly if we were going there for dinner. She yelled NO again, as always.

We walked back to the hotel and got our beach-stuff so we could enjoy the last bit of sun before the clouds came in. We sat on the beach across the street from our hotel and watched cruise ships leaving port. We gaped in disbelief as this monster of a ship backed out and did a 180 in what seemed to be a way-too-small harbor. It followed the pilot boat out into the ocean, and was on its way. We decided we really needed to take a short cruise sometime, because places like the Bahamas seem especially geared towards that kind of vacation. The hair-braiding woman came over to offer her services just like she’d already done four times since we arrived. We again declined. Someone tried to sell us timeshares, just like they’d already done. We got out of it by telling him we were leaving the next day.

We went back to the hotel and perused our guide, looking for dinner options. We didn’t really want to take a taxi again, lest we encounter Gilbert, nor did we want to pay the $20 to get to PI and back, since we’d just come from there. The British Colonial Hilton was nice but boring, and the several restaurants along Bay Street were primarily seafood or take-out. I said, “So, it’s Señor Frog’s, then?” She didn’t think I was serious. She should’ve known better, since we have a longtime history with this kind of thing: ‘Want to go to THAT tacky tourist restaurant?’ Joke about it 50 times, and all of a sudden you HAVE to go, just because you’ve talked about it so damn much.

we know how to party.

Oh, we made the most of our visit to Señor Frog’s. We ordered normal-sized drinks, but they arrived in yards anyway. We watched a bunch of drunk 19-year-olds dancing on tables near the bar, and girls with the worst voices ever singing karaoke just to get free shots. We ate bad Mexican food that somehow tasted really good. I went to the bathroom at least three times, and the last time I opened the stall door to find the janitor standing there with a mop and bucket. He said, “Oh, sorry, baby.” No problem, dude. I’m kicking it tacky-tourist-style at Señor Frog’s!

We laughed our way out of the place, me clutching most of my second yard of whatever it was. We walked back to the hotel, and met a guy along the way who asked us the usual questions. I suppose I felt some apprehension for a minute: drunk American chicks walking alone along a beach in Nassau. But he was friendly and wished us a good trip home. My drink went into the trash can in the hotel untouched, although I offered it to Stephanie (from the trash can) several times and SHE WOULDN’T DRINK IT. I loudly proclaimed from the bathroom that I was having the best pee of my life, and then I very soon after collapsed into bed.

Sunday morning, we walked downtown for breakfast. This was a challenge, as nothing was really open yet. I had a cappuccino, but I really really wanted more Go Ahead and the grocery store was closed. It was to be expected that things would open late on Sunday in the Bahamas.

well-fed wild dogs in nassau. they mostly hung out at the ‘beachside jerk’.

We walked around Bay Street. About a quarter of the shops were open. I was looking for my usual Christmas ornament souvenir, and we wanted food to bring to the airport in case there was nothing there. We knew we’d probably be sitting around for a while.
We found a pharmacy that sold food and souvenirs. No ornament, but the double-bonus on the Go Ahead. Between the two of us, we bought nine packages to bring home. Score!

We walked back to the hotel, said no to the braiding lady for the last time, packed up, and checked out. A shuttle arrived with a driver we did not know, and that was surprising. I was kind of hoping for Frankie. There was another couple waiting for the shuttle at our hotel, too; the girl looked and acted exactly like Kaia from The Real World, and the guy seemed sullen. There was apparently some ticketing mixup, so she wasn’t going home until the next day. The guy sat down in front of us and was silent.
We made a stop at another hotel on Cable Beach. The people weren’t standing there, so the driver went in looking for them. Our shuttle companion spoke up, without even turning around. He said, “Are you going back somewhere with snow, too?” All of a sudden, we loved him.

We compared vacations, because he had booked a similar package to ours. He was going back to Chicago, and seemed very unhappy about it. He told us he was on a Delta flight to the middle of nowhere; it was the same as ours, to Cincinnati, only his left 15 minutes beforehand.

We had been told multiple times to get to the airport two and a half hours early, and that was for good reason. There was a long line along the front of the building for security, and most of the airlines’ desks were crowded. We were relieved to be able to get seat assignments for our connection back to Minneapolis, considering the trouble we’d had getting there. We got in line for the first security scan before customs, which took close to half an hour.

We cleared customs quickly, I had my suitcase searched, then we stood in another line going upstairs, which turned out to be for yet another security check. I’m not sure why we had to have our stuff xrayed so much, but whatever. We were in the gate area more than an hour before our flight, so we could relax.

The gate area is all in one building, and it was mobbed when we got there. There was a shop, a bar, and a restaurant, so we decided to have a real lunch, if by ‘cheese sandwich’ I mean ‘real lunch’. As we were sitting down, we heard the announcement: our 2:25 flight was delayed until 4:30. Awesome.

Since we only had a 50 minute layover in Cincinnati to begin with, I knew we had a problem. I called Delta, and they said to talk to the people at the gate. Well, everyone was talking to the people at the gate, because it was chaos. All their outbound flights were overbooked. Half of them were delayed. The 2:15 flight to Cincinnati that Chicago boy was on was boarded and then unboarded because they put them on the wrong plane. Our plane was experiencing ‘mechanical difficulties’. We finally got to speak to the guy at the gate, and he told us to come back after the other flight was boarded correctly. We really wanted on that flight, but it was already full. We decided to take the next logical step: have a drink at the gate and enjoy ourselves. That’s exactly what we did.

We went back and talked to a different agent later. He spent about half an hour trying to get us on any flight he could find that would connect back home, but it was impossible. I couldn’t really be crabby with him, because he did his best and I could tell it was pissing him off that he couldn’t work something out. So at 4:30, we got on our return flight to Cincinnati, knowing we’d be spending the night there.

The flight was insane. We quickly discovered that the slimy, nasty dudes from the flight down were on that 48-seat plane with us. They were now accompanied by a couple girls in their early twenties, who they were very happily groping. The smarmiest one of all was seated in the exit row, with the loud, drunk blonde chick next to him. The flight attendant came and told her she had to move out of the exit row, because she didn’t trust her to perform her duties in case of emergency. Personally, I didn’t trust the nasty dude, either. He was clearly disappointed when she moved.

She sat a few rows up, bitching about what had happened. The flight attendant went back up to her and told her she was THIS close to being kicked off the plane. That seemed to shut her up.

In Cincinnati (the airport is actually located in Kentucky, so from then on it became Kentuckinnati), we had the pleasure of being in line behind the Detroit Mafia at the desk where they were handing out hotel vouchers, or trying to make arrangements for people on other flights. The dudes were seriously considering the airline’s offer to fly them to Cleveland and get them a cab to Detroit; they wouldn’t just get them a rental car due to liability. They finally grudgingly agreed to take the vouchers, and of course we were extra thrilled that meant they’d be staying in the hotel with us.

We got our vouchers for the hotel, meals ($7, good anywhere in the airport, whatever), and our boarding passes for the flight the next morning. We hopped on the shuttle with the Detroit Mafia. We cringed as we listened to their conversation. They were truly disgusting.

In the lobby, they all insisted on separate rooms, because Delta was paying for them. They ate a bunch of the hotel cookies and wandered in and out of the lobby, watching some game on TV. They’d occasionally try to talk to us in the lamest way possible: ‘Hello Kitty, huh?’ ‘Yep.’ They asked where they could get dinner, since it was after 9. The girl at the front desk said that the Marriott down the street was the only nearby restaurant, which meant we were going to again end up in the same place. I was dying to ask her to get us a room far away from them, but they were there the whole time. GROSS.

We managed to get to the restaurant long before them, and were almost done with dinner before they showed up. They were seated far away, so at least we were spared that unpleasantess. We ran back to the hotel, called work to tell them we’d be late, and spent probably the only night of our lives in Kentuckinnati.

We got up and shuttled back to the airport, in fear we’d end up with the Detroit Mafia again. Thankfully, they were nowhere to be found. Our shuttle driver was awesome; he told us all about his days traveling around the country playing soccer, and the couple times he’d been to Minneapolis. For once, we met someone who didn’t first associate the Mall of America with our home. He dropped us off and we checked in with no problem. The flight even seemed to be on time!

Since we had some time to kill, we spent our Delta vouchers on breakfast and coffee, and shopped in the airport. I made a beeline for the Kentucky store, because who doesn’t love Kentucky? I got me a tshirt. The girl behind the counter asked where we had come from, then said, “What’s the Bahamas?” Ugh.

When we got to the gate, they were again asking people to take travel vouchers to be bumped, because the flight was overbooked. There was no way in hell we weren’t getting back to Minneapolis on that flight, though. Well, maybe for $500. Apparently you can’t bargain with the gate-people, though.

Dear Delta, you suck possibly even worse than Northwest Airlines, but your in-flight snacks are WAY better. Keep up the good work! Love, Jenni

my straw-market bag!

best bahamas kentucky souvenir ever!