Our Jamaican Honeymoon Adventure - Day 10 [THE FINALE!]

August 27th, day 10

Yes, avid readers, today marks the culmination of our honeymoon adventure, so it may be a little long and detailed, as this is the last thread to which I am clinging of honeymoon memories!  :(

We woke up early-ish (for us, I guess) and conversed with one of the breakfast waitstaff that we had spoken with the other day.  His name was Carlton.

No, not that Carlton.  Although this particular waiter was slightly awkward with his social skills as well.  He was such a nice guy, though, and chatted with Andrew and I for quite a while.  After Carlton left, Milton was walking by, so we chit-chatted for a bit and mentioned that we would likely be seeing him at the Repeaters Dinner this evening.

Now, if you have been a true friend and have been following my honeymoon blog with rapt attention, you will notice that I have mentioned this Repeaters Dinner at least three or four times now.  First, we RSVPed to attend our first week, then we canceled it because of the fact that we were not repeaters.  When we were casually discussing this oopsie with another bartender later the next day, she mentioned that the only way you could get in was by being a repeater, or via invitation, which we didn't have.  THEN we received a phone call a few days later asking us to attend, and despite the fact that we mentioned we did not qualify, they invited us anyway.  I imagine it had something to do with my unimaginably refined volleyball skills.

So, back to our conversation with Milton.  He says, "Oh no, mon.  You can't be at de Repeaters Dinner
if you not repeaters."  Despite the confusion of many others' information regarding this, hearing it straight from Milton (who was a manager) made me think that we made another oopsie by agreeing to attend.  When we mentioned that we had been cordially invited via a phone call, his instruction went something like this.  "Hmmm…well, just say that you've been here before."

This resulted in a moral dilemma for Andrew and I, where my huge Jiminy Cricket was bound to intervene.

Do we cancel, and find other dinner plans, or do we fib and sneak our way into a dinner that was apt to be much ritzier than anything we could attain with our own resources of honesty and integrity?  Despite my qualms, we decided that someone must really want us at this dinner if it had been brought up as many times as it had, plus we had an invitation, PLUS Milton told us to lie, so it seemed like a no-brainer.

Based off a recommendation from the lovely couple we chatted with at the Beach Party the night prior, we went up to the water sports booth to see if we could book an afternoon glass bottom boat tour.  It was about 11:00, and we were hoping that they might have room to squeeze us in, since we didn't sign up the day before like they encourage you to.  Since the weather had been poopy, not many people signed up for the 11:30 session, so they said that we could join that one if we wanted, and we were psyched to oblige.

We chilled in the "lay person" part of the beach until 11:30 rolled around, and the boat arrived.  I was a little miffed that I didn't bring my water shoes, and like a true, empathetic, compassionate 11 day-old husband Andrew mocked the bejeezus out of me.  I also wanted to bring the camera, but worried that it might get wet, Andrew cautioned me not to.

It was only about 20 minutes to a half hour long, but it was so cool!  I had been on a glass bottom boat before, but it was in Florida at Silver Springs.  Although it was a gorgeous experience, this view felt a little more authentic, as it was not as much of a tourist attraction as the well-known and repeatedly filmed Silver Springs.

It was almost disconcerting to see how close we were to reef (although, not as close as when Andrew hit it with the Hobe Cat) and all of the sea life that was present.  We saw tons of urchins, and even got a lesson on the difference between males and females.  While the females were small and white, the males were black with longer spines.

Female Urchin

Male Urchin (he works out…)

We traveled a bit further East to see the sunken ship, and it was unlike anything I'd ever seen, and probably unlike anything most of you have ever seen  Props to Andrew for denying us both the opportunity to revel in its awesome-ness.  I kid, any photos likely wouldn't have turned out great anyway.  Feel free to Google "sunken ship sans souci" if you want to see others' mediocre quality pictures of the spectacle, though.

After the boat docked (and I moderately whined about water shoe-less traipsing in the ocean water) we decided to lay out for a bit on the beach and- you guessed it- more storming!  At this point, NY wasn't looking so bad after all…  Anyway, we went back to the room to watch an awful movie where Justin Long lies to a girl, and then has to keep lying to stay with her.  It's riveting, really.  It did, however motivate us to eat in a way we hadn't been exposed to yet on the resort, which was room service.  We ordered nachos, and a lover's pizza, which basically means nothing.  It was a normal pizza, except smaller.  Maybe it symbolically meant to contain your love and only exude it in small pieces?  Maybe I'm reading too much into this…

As we start packing our things, minus toiletries and clothes for the liar's- I mean- Repeaters Dinner, it starts to sink in that we will be leaving tomorrow.  Sad face.  We decide we want to make the most of our evening, as we head out toward our final Jamaican dinner.  We are super early, and arrive first, when I realize that we are likely going to have to verbalize our lie at some point, and I start getting anxious.  Luckily, Andrew was the designated liar so I just had to smile and nod.  That's it.  Nod.  Smile.  I got this.

We calmly arrive at the hostess station, and she asks for our name.  "Willis!"  I blurt out abruptly, eager to contribute in some way, since I lie about as well as I deep-sea dive.  She asks how many times we've been to the resort, and Andrew says "Two" as cool as a cat.  Phew!  We're in, muahahaha!

Sneaky, sneaky...

So we take a seat and relax, when others start to arrive, little by little.  Each person that enters is shown to their seat, so we don't awkwardly avoid each other, and a very nice couple from Michigan sit to our left.  We introduce ourselves, and they politely ask the one question I didn't see coming (but, in retrospect, makes total sense) "So, what was your first time like?"

Now, taken out of context, this question is sure to catch one off-guard, but although the intent of the inquiry was apparent, we had not really discussed the finer points of our facade.  Luckily, while I sweated bullets and peed a little, Andrew jumped right to it and saved the day.  Thankful for his quick thinking, but sort of in a daze from the wine, I continue to chit-chat while blatantly offering information to our new besties that clearly contradicts the fact that we've "already been here".  Oy.  "I got so lost the first day" At a resort you've visited before?  "I couldn't believe the rooms!  They were such a surprise!" And where did you stay before, in the kayak storage facility?  Luckily, dinner started to be served and I was off the hook.

For dinner we had a poached salmon appetizer with balsamic oil and garlic aioli, lobster bisque, salad with an orange ginger dressing, surf and turf with lobster tail and beef tenderloin, and dessert was a banana cheesecake with a vanilla cream sauce and raspberry ganache topping.  Yum!

Did I mention I don't lie very well?  So apparently part of the initiation ritual is that every couple has to awkwardly stand up and announce how many visits they have made to the Sans Souci resort.  Whoa.  It's one thing to fib to a hostess, and sort of another to stretch the truth to a couple next to us, but to out and out LIE to a room full of real repeaters (including the people we sat next to at the Beach Party and confessed our story to), staff members, chefs, and the manager was…well…doable I guess.

The last straw was that they were drawing raffle tickets for prizes.  If you know me, I have a super secret competitive side that comes out when I'm competing in dodgeball and frisbee tournaments against young children…and no I'm not proud.  Anyway, normally I would be hoping beyond hope that our ticket would be called, but in this particular instance, I couldn't dread winning a prize enough.  Posing as a repeater is one thing, but winning a prize and thus taking it away from a real repeater.  Please don't call our ticket….please don't call our ticket…please don't - oh, damn.  They called it.  Thankfully, the prize was a non-redeemable, non-transferable gift certificate for the water sports booth, which we wouldn't be able to use since we were leaving the next day, so we gave the prize to a lovely couple with a severe nut allergy.  Enjoy, folks!

The next few hours entailed singing, drinking, dancing, compliments on my dancing (woot woot!), more singing, and more drinking, including two Bob Marleys.  Oh, and they were on fire.  NBD.

AHH WE'RE IN HELL!

…much better.

If you had nearly as much fun reading our honeymoon adventure as I had writing it, I will consider this endeavor a success.  Please check back for periodic rantings about my brain diarrhea.  Much love!

-Corri