We got up very early Friday morning and drove over to Matt’s work. Since it was painfully cold outside, he dropped me off at the Park N Go building and went to park the car in the ramp. I went in to get us a couple spots on an outgoing shuttle (his work has an arrangement with Park N Go that lets us ride their shuttles for free, which is awesome), and it picked us up and headed to the airport.

The line for the bag drop at US Air was terrible, and I was worried we’d have to go through regular security since our Precheck numbers weren’t on our boarding passes. The desk agent was able to sort that out and reprint them, but then we discovered that the line at Precheck was super-long, too. We stopped to get coffee, and arrived at the gate to find the flight in the middle of boarding. We got on and headed to our very own two-seat exit row, which was very convenient.

We knew that Kris and Orsi and their kids were there somewhere, too, but we didn’t see them on the flight. They boarded a while later, and apparently we’d totally missed them waiting at the gate.

We landed in Charlotte a couple hours later, and met at the brewpub by our gate. Kris gave us the Jamaican cash he’d picked up for us at the bank. It sure looked like a lot of money. (This is $400 US.)

We had snacks and beer and then boarded the next flight to Montego Bay. Matt and I had another 2-seat row, this time with a chatty flight attendant in the jump seat.

We landed in Mobay a little late, customs forms in hand. There was one lady standing in the hallway checking every single customs form, which led to a huge messy crowd of people from the flight standing around. Once we got past her, we went to stand in the always-long customs and immigration lines. At least it wasn’t quite as hot in there as usual, and since I was carrying flipflops in my bag I was able to change to something not quite as warm.

We eventually made it through passport control, then stood in another long line for customs. Finally, we were in Jamaica. We found Kris and Orsi hanging out with the bags. We picked up snacks and a bunch of Red Stripes and Dragon Stout for the road, and found our driver waiting for us. (Their friends in Negril had arranged a driver for us, for only $20/person. That was awesome.) We piled in the van and were on our way.

Well, sort of. Traffic was godawful in Mobay, partly due to a cruise ship in port. It took us close to an hour to get out of town.

I did get to see this giant sugarcane truck along the way, though. Future rum! I hope it was going to Appleton.

The kids were bored on the long ride, and food only occupied them for a while. We finished all our beers halfway through the trip, too. We had to stop to use the bathroom and resupply our beverages, the drive was taking so long.

Our flight had landed just after noon, but we didn’t make it to Negril until sunset. It’s usually a 90-minute drive!

We arrived at Samsara, and checked into our rooms. The guy at the front desk told me and Matt that we’d be staying in one room for a night, and then transferring to our actual room for a week, and we were fine with that. We didn’t realize until the porter started leading us there that our single-night room was one of their awesome stilt houses overlooking the ocean!! I’d wanted to stay in one of those, so we were thrilled at the opportunity.

The room was fairly small, taken up almost entirely by the king-size bed and giant wardrobe, but it was great. The wind was blowing like crazy, so it didn’t matter that there wasn’t an air conditioner. (The overhead fan helped, too.) There was a bathroom with a sink and toilet on the same level as the room, but the shower was downstairs. There was also a decent-sized balcony from which you could see the ocean and the entire hotel property. (Not well since it was nighttime, but still.)

Once we were settled in, we met up with Kris and Orsi and headed down the road to No Limit, our bar-away-from-home. It was so great to be back.

They ordered food from Tony, who had a huge grill set up in the parking lot outside. He didn’t have any rice and peas left, so Orsi and I walked down to Pablo’s to get a carry-out order. It wasn’t the best thing I’d ever eaten, but as I’d learned on previous visits to Jamaica, vegetarians can’t be picky there.

No Limit had cricket on TV, so Matt and Kris decided to teach the kids how to play. They used a broken mop handle as a bat, and plastic cups from the bar as the ball. It seemed to work OK for them.

After hanging around there for a couple hours and greeting all the regulars, we headed back to the hotel. It was really clear out, so we went and sat on a low wall by the ocean, as far away as possible from the lights. We spent a long time picking out constellations, and then it was time to head to bed in our stilt house.

The ocean was pretty rough due to wind, and I woke up halfway through the night thinking I was going to freeze to death. I had to get up and close the windows, even. Who knew you could be cold in Jamaica?

We got up at 8:45 Saturday morning and got our stuff together. It was refreshing to not have to get up at 6am and catch the shared shuttle, because that’s always kind of painful. We rolled our bags up to the front desk to check out just as Champion was walking in. We told him we had to say bye to our friends, and he took the bags to the taxi.

We met them down near the water just so they could show us that it was once again perfect outside, and the sea was calm. SIGH. We said goodbye, and cursed them a little for their extra week in Jamaica. Then we hopped in the cab and were off.

Champion said he had to make a stop to drop something off, which was fine with us. When he pulled into Hedonism 2, the nude resort at the far end of the beach, we were dying of hilarity inside. He dropped off a ‘package’ for one of the guests who came out to meet us, and we were off.

There wasn’t much traffic, so the drive was quick, around 90 minutes. Some of the little towns along the way had flooded roads because of the crazy weather the previous day.

It started raining just as we got to the airport in Montego Bay. We thanked Champion and rolled our bags to the gigantic US Air bag drop. That took forever, and then security also took forever, and finally we were inside the terminal. We walked around a bit looking for food and drinks to bring on the plane, and I grabbed a bottle of water. They announced our flight, and I realized while getting out my boarding pass and passport that my hands were shaking violently. It was 12:30, and I’d kind of forgotten to eat all morning. Luckily, I’d brought a Suncake along.

The exit row in row 9 was awesome. We ended up talking to the flight attendant again, and this guy had previously been in IT and moved into his current career just because of the opportunity for tons of time off with not much seniority. That sounded pretty appealing, really.

Matt had thought that morning that maybe he was getting a cold, and by the time we were in the air, it was clear that he had one. His ears and sinuses were blocked, which made the descent miserable.

We landed in Charlotte and headed to customs and immigration. We were very excited to use our Global Entry privileges for the first time ever, and found the bank of machines empty. My machine wouldn’t scan my passport and didn’t recognize the info I was entering, so I was worried I’d have to get in the giant line. I tried another machine, and while it still wouldn’t scan my passport, the manual entry worked. We got little printout slips with our photos on them that we took to the passport line. That was quick, and so was customs. The downside was that we just had longer to wait for our bags to arrive, but I took that time to go to the bathroom and change into warmer clothing. We were heading back to the cold.

We first went up to the US Airlines lounge, and went in because I had free passes. They had some snacks, but you had to pay for a full meal. They also had free rail drinks, but you had to pay for anything good. I grabbed some crackers and cheese cubes, and we had a cocktail. Then we headed back out, because Matt was badly in need of cold meds and some real food.

We bought Mucinex at a shop, then went to get a table at the Bacardi Rum Bar. They were playing reggae and had shockingly authentic Caribbean food, so it was a welcome return to the Jamaican atmosphere. By the time we were done with dinner, we were both nearly falling asleep on the table. We went to get a quick beer at the Carolina Beer Co, and then headed to the plane. After another exit row, another friendly flight attendant, and another shuttle ride, we were home.

It was -35 windchill in Minneapolis. Our shuttle driver took us right to the parking ramp instead of to the park and ride lot, and earned a $20 tip for that. It was worth it.

The last time we’d been in Jamaica, we had to get up way too early in the morning in order to be on the shuttle to the airport. Nobody wants to get up early in Jamaica, so the plan this time was to spend the day (which just happened to be Matt’s birthday!) in Montego Bay, close to the airport, and not have to rush to do anything.

We got up, finished packing and cleaning up our room, and went to check out of the hotel before 11am. Our shuttle wasn’t coming for a while, so we left our bags in the front office and walked down the beach for patties. Of course Jamrock wasn’t open again – that made them 1 for 3 – so we walked back to the hotel. We didn’t have any great ideas, but there was a bar there, right?

On the way, we stopped to thank Michael for everything. He said more words at that point that we’d heard him say all week. That guy is awesome.

We grabbed seats at the Legends bar and got rum punch. I heard scrambling behind us, and turned to see some of the feral beach cats chasing a pretty sizable crab around. It was excellent entertainment, even if Matt and I had to lift our feet to keep away from his claws. The crab finally took refuge under a tray table in the corner, where the cats couldn’t see it.

Then it was time to head to the shuttle. We paid our tab, gathered our bags, and rolled out to the parking lot. A loud group with the most annoying New York accents on earth was there, too, so we were not excited about the prospect of sharing a shuttle with them. The minibus rolled up, and the driver only had that group on the manifest. We weren’t sure if we were forgotten or just awaiting another bus, but while they sat there figuring things out, another one rolled up. That was ours.

There was one other couple on the bus, and of course they were Minnesotan. They had plastic cups and a bottle of vodka, intent on enjoying the ride back to MoBay. We talked with them and the driver the whole way back, and the driver was great. We learned a lot about Jamaican food and the landscape. As the couple downed more vodka, the lady became more and more incoherent and giggly, and the guy got quieter. By the time we arrived at the airport an hour or so later, I was glad to finally not have to talk to them anymore.

Our driver took us on to the Holiday Inn SunSpree, and pointed out Scotchie’s along the way, so we knew how to get there. Orsi had said it was across the street, and she was right. The driver dropped us at the hotel, and we expected to have to pay him extra for the ride there (versus the airport), but he didn’t ask for anything more. Matt tipped him well instead.

So our original plan in Montego Bay was to stay at Toby’s, a highly-recommended, very reasonably-priced hotel. But we had a bunch of credit on Hotels.com, and decided to redeem it to stay at the all-inclusive, since with our discount it ended up being much cheaper AND had free drinks. (We didn’t really care about the food part, but since it was Matt’s birthday we figured we could just hold up the bar there for free.) The second we set foot in the lobby, though, I had a lot of regrets about that.

Don’t get me wrong, the place was very, very nice. It was clean, spacious, and the rooms had every amenity that they didn’t in Negril (super-strong A/C, hair dryer, fancy shower and toiletries). The grounds were huge, and there were at least four different beaches that were perfectly-groomed. There was even an island you could wade to, full of beach chairs and hammocks. There were bars in several locations, and nice shops. They had all the resort-type things that I’m unwilling to pay for, like the spa and high-end dining. It’s exactly the kind of thing you want out of a cruise ship, but there’s one critical difference: on a cruise, people leave the ship to visit foreign countries.

The place was very crowded, and of course there were kids everywhere. It seemed unlikely that one would be able to find a quiet spot anywhere near the pool. (Thankfully, there was an adults-only beach at the far end of the property, which we discovered later.)

Anyway, we checked in, and of course were early so we couldn’t get in the room yet. They gave us fruity welcome drinks and put really annoying concert-style wristbands on our wrists (I always make fun of wristbanded all-inclusive people in my head when we’re on vacation, and then I WAS ONE OF THEM). We took the bags to the porters’ closet and got tickets. I held onto my carry-on bag with my purse and a million other things. What I hadn’t realized is that Matt was planning to go right over to Scotchie’s for lunch (we hadn’t really eaten anything yet that day), and my bag weighed about 50 pounds. We agreed to switch off along the way.

We headed right back out the front of the hotel, and were asked if we needed a cab. We said we were walking, so they told us to be sure to sign out at the front gate. We gave the lady there our name, and another woman was standing right outside, offering to braid my hair. I said no thanks, and we left the property and crossed the highway.

It was approximately a million degrees that day, so it was uncomfortable. Actually, I’m sure it was the usual high-80s that it is everywhere in Jamaica in February, but being even a little bit off the ocean made a gigantic difference. We were instantly covered in sweat, and my bag was not the most pleasant thing in the world.

There were guys selling the usual things across the road, so they walked with us and asked if we needed weed, souvenirs, or whatever. We said thanks, but we were at the end of our trip. We met one guy per block, as if they each had their own territory. Near the little “artisan village”, a guy introduced himself as Derek, and asked us to come into his shop there. We said we would stop by on the way back from lunch, but we were dying of hunger. He made us promise, and we did. We didn’t need souvenirs, but there would be no getting away from Derek.

A couple blocks down, we found Scotchie’s, and got a table in the shade under the thatched roof. The place was awesome.

It was also a great time to be at the most famous jerk hut in Jamaica, because there was nobody there at 3pm on a Monday. We ordered beers and food. There wasn’t much vegetarian there, but I had enough to eat. Matt’s lunch looked excellent.

When we were done, we headed back toward the resort. From that direction, we could see how absolutely monstrous it was. It was a multi-block walk to Scotchie’s, but the hotel stretched almost that entire distance across the highway. Once we reached the artisan village, Derek was right there waiting. He led us to the shop he said was his, while all the ladies sitting outside the 30 or so other shops (which were really just little closets) yelled at us to please come visit them next. We were the only people there, so it was a little overwhelming.

It became apparently right away that this was not Derek’s shop, but probably someone he knew. We stood in there looking around a little while the owner directed a fan at us. (Awkward.) We finally decided on a little wooden bird painted in Jamaican colors, and the owner explained what the colors meant (you have to hear that at least ten times on every trip to Jamaica… it’s required). Matt did a great job of haggling, and she was not thrilled that we were only interested in that one thing. We took our bag and headed right back out of the artisan village, much to the other ladies’ disappointment.

Derek came right along with us, so I asked him if the shop owner was his wife. He laughed and said no, he was the walking shop! He then unzipped his fanny pack and started pulling out handmade jewelry. We said no and thanked him about ten times before he finally accepted that we weren’t buying anything else, and headed back to the resort.

We signed in, got our room keys, and were taken across the property and up to our room by one of the bellboys. I can’t really explain the whole conversation, but at one point he joked about taking his dick out to compare with Matt’s and find out who was a true local. Seriously, Jamaicans are OBSESSED with their penises. It’s hilarious. (The macho thing gets old, but it meant that I never had to talk to people if I didn’t feel like it. Matt’s the man, so clearly he’s always in charge.)

I was not at all excited to be there after being in such an awesome place as Negril, but we decided to make the best of it. I changed into a beach dress and we went down to find chairs and drinks. The pool was so mobbed with humans that we skirted it completely. The first bar we tried had ice cream drinks in addition to beer and liquor, so that line took forever. They were setting up hamburgers and fries nearby, for some reason. We decided to keep going and find another bar.

Farther down the way, we found a tiny little beach that had thatch umbrellas, beach chairs, and was nearly deserted. It was also very close to another bar, so we decided on that. It was only 4:30 or so, but the bar was packed with yelling drunk people, and had the atmosphere of every fratboy bar in Madison, Wisconsin. I’m not saying that Negril is not packed with drunk Canadians (it is), but they’re more spread out and nothing is every really like… THAT. We got drinks and took them to our chairs.

The beach-settin’ was very nice, on the other hand. There were birds everywhere, and the sunset was pretty. There was also a pair of girls making out in a chair ahead of us, which seemed ballsy considering Jamaica’s opinion of gay people. (No country is perfect, unfortunately; hopefully they’ll get over their stupid fears someday.)

Matt was nice enough to make several trips to the bar on our behalf, so I didn’t have to move from my quiet spot away from the All-Inclusive People. As the sun went down, tiny crabs started popping out of their holes in the sand. We sat there watching them in hysterics for a long time. They were excavating their crab-holes, and the way they popped out and tossed sand was the best. One of them kept throwing sand into the other guy’s house, too.

After sunset, the staff started collecting the beach chairs, and we figured it was time to figure out what the hell was going on with dinner around there. We had to cut back through the pool area, so we learned that the usual buffet was closed, and they had moved it outside for the night. They were apparently doing that in conjunction with entertainment on the stage in the middle of the pool. We noticed that everyone had suddenly changed into what is commonly referred to as “resort wear”, which was both stupid and entertaining. We went to the room to change into our equivalent… I put on a slightly nicer dress, and Matt wore a polo. We also mixed drinks in the room, since we had some delicious Rum Fire overproof from Negril.

The pool area was chaos by the time we got back down there. There seemed to be servers running around, but we didn’t see any indication that they were actually seating people. There was a DJ on stage playing such hits as “Hot Hot Hot” and anything by Enrique Iglesias and Black Eyed Peas (nothing Jamaican… I’m not sure we even heard reggae the whole time we were there).

We wandered around looking for a host stand or anything on that order, and couldn’t find it. We decided to grab a table instead, and see if that was the trick. The tables weren’t set with silverware, napkins, or water, so we were hoping that that might happen. We sat there for a long time as servers rushed around helping other tables, so apparently that wasn’t how it worked, either. We decided we didn’t care, and headed for the buffet.

I liked the salad bar, since it had, you know, salad, and bread. The food was everything you get at an Old Country Buffet. There was hardly anything vegetarian, either. Matt managed to find silverware on a serving table, so at least we could eat. Even now, I have no idea how dinner service is supposed to work there. I do know that there were one billion white people all running around scarfing up crappy food, though. I wanted some stew peas or a patty.

After dinner, we went to get more drinks and headed down to the far end of the property to see what was down there. We found an empty adults-only pool that appeared to still be open but unattended. There was also another nice beach at the far end past the pier, so we grabbed two beach chairs and sat there staring at the ocean and the stars. And laughing about what a ridiculous place it was. We did not belong there at all, and I felt horrified that none of those people were ever going to experience how amazing Jamaica is. It’s depressing.

Matt did get to try out one of the exciting COOOOOLLLLD WATA excursions, though, and I didn’t even charge him for the photo I took. We went back to the room to drink rum and play dominoes.

We got up, finished packing everything the proper way this time, and rolled our suitcases down to the lobby shortly before the noon checkout time. Matt ran the towels back to the return hut so we weren’t charged $80 apiece, or whatever it was. Since we had plenty of time to kill before our flight, we went to the souvenir shop at the resort. They actually had some really cute stuff, so we picked up a few things (including my new purse).

It took some work getting the new stuff into my suitcase without opening everything up entirely, but I managed. We went to the entrance to get a cab, and one of the guys working there cut off our wristbands and asked if we wanted to keep them as a souvenir. I didn’t really want a souvenir of my time at the generic all-inclusive, but we took them anyway.

Our cab turned out to be one of the vans you usually take to the airport if you pre-book. It was just the two of us this time, though. Our driver asked about what we’d seen in Jamaica, and then told us about how he had friends in California who sent him marijuana seeds. As we arrived at the airport, he took out his phone and started showing us pictures of his crops. Awesome.

The airport was very quiet, and check-in was easy. We got to take the Medallion line to drop the bags, and then headed to security, which was really fast as well. We were there plenty early, so we went to go find lunch (we hadn’t had anything but coffee so far) and of course ended up at Air Margaritaville. Since we’d been there on the previous visit, it was officially a tradition.

We ordered Guinness, and our server told Matt that dudes ordered it because it made them horny. I didn’t want to mention that EVERYTHING seems to make the men horny in Jamaica. Matt got a burger, and I had the veggie wrap. It was at least 70% shredded lettuce, but it was still incredibly appealing just because it was fresh. After our meal, our server told us a long story about how he liked it when it was cold, because then it made his lady want to cuddle up close to him. Oh, Jamaicans.

After lunch, we did a bunch of shopping in the airport. We picked up a huge bottle of Havana Club and some high-end Appleton from the duty-free store, some Marcus Garvey dominoes from a souvenir shop, and got beverages for the flight. We then grabbed seats at the bar near our gate, and Matt went to use up his remaining $J to buy beers. He quickly learned that people don’t often use Jamaican currency at the airport, for some strange reason. We weren’t sure why, because it’s much cheaper that way, and you’re likely to have some left over.

While we were waiting for our flight to board, there was an announcement about one of the other Delta flights to NYC. The guy on the microphone said that the co-pilot was trying to point something out to the pilot on a map on a clipboard, and then there was a bump and his pen fell into the plane’s console. While that was probably harmless, there was the potential that the pen could get stuck in the mechanism that controlled the aircraft’s tail. Therefore they had to tear apart the console to find it, and they were very sorry for the delay. Those of us who were not flying to New York thought that was all incredibly hilarious.

After a while it was time to board, right around the time that Kris and Orsi were likely arriving at the airport from Negril. I was a zone ahead of Matt, so I took the duty-free rum box and boarded first so I could get a good spot in the overhead compartment. We had a two-seat row to ourselves, which was very comfortable indeed. The flight seemed to take forever to board, and we were held up well past our scheduled departure. People kept arriving from other flights, both the (eventually cancelled) New York one and others that were apparently delayed or cancelled due to bad weather in the southeastern US. Finally the plane was packed full, and we were on our way to Atlanta, still somehow close to on time.

Leaving Mobay, I could see the hotel and Scotchie’s from the air. (The hotel is the first large one up on the coast past the sandbar, a little below the middle of the photo. Scotchie’s is just south of the circular drive across the street from the hotel.)

About half an hour into the flight, we passed Cuba again! I could see a lot of detail of the farms from above.

We landed just a little late in Atlanta, and headed as fast as possible towards Customs and Immigration. I was glad to be toward the front of the flight, so we could get there before the rush. It’s about a 400-mile walk from that terminal to Customs, but we arrived to find no wait at all. The surly agent stamped our passports in invisible ink (seriously, I can’t find the stamp), and we headed to baggage claim to get our suitcases.

The bags were all latched shut with an industrial twist-tie, and we’d been instructed not to open them to put duty-free stuff inside. We carried it up to Customs, and I only got a little nervous about the drug dog sniffing around all the luggage, because he was so cute. The Customs guy took our form and didn’t even ask us anything, so we walked away reveling in yet another successful Cuban-contraband-smuggling effort. At the bag drop for connecting flights, one of the baggage handlers showed me how to remove the lock so I could put our rum inside. We sent our bags off with a little prayer that they’d make it to Minneapolis, and headed to the main terminal on the train to find some dinner.

We’d eaten at the Sam Adams Brewpub before, so we headed there and looked at the menu. We didn’t see a single vegetarian item on the list, so we proceeded down the concourse. I was pretty sure we were going to end up with fast food pizza for dinner, but then Matt decided to take a look at the TGI Friday’s menu. The last time I’d been in a TGI Friday’s (several years ago, at least), they also put meat on top of everything, but this menu actually had a few vegetarian items, including a really delicious-looking veggie burger. So we sucked up our pride (how snobby can you be in an airport, anyway?) and got a table.

Our super-awesome server brought us two gigantic mojitos, and then our meals. The veggie burger was indeed amazingly good. The Gophers were playing Indiana on many giant TVs around the restaurant, so we were happy.

I checked Facebook, and Orsi had sent a message that they were still in Montego Bay. We figured we’d be running into them in ATL since they were only an hour behind us, but apparently the storm had bumped everything back several hours. They were sitting around the airport, knowing that they’d be spending the night in Atlanta. We’d gotten really lucky!

We boarded the plane and took our spots in the exit row. My seat didn’t have an armrest, so it was gigantic and comfortable. Matt was stuck between me and a lady who snored, but at least she was nice about it. We couldn’t get ESPN on the seatback TV so we missed seeing the Gophers court storm, and didn’t even hear about it til the next day. Our flight back to MSP was uneventful, and our bags had indeed come along for the journey. I switched to wool socks and Keen sandals from my flipflops, put on a hoodie, and we went out to wait for my parents in the cold.