Spring Break in St. John

Our Spring Break getaway to St. John got off to a rocky start to say the least. After spending more than an hour trying to get through TSA at Dulles airport, we arrived at the gate just as they were closing the door. Unbeknownst to us, the airlines habitually overbook flights and reassign seats for those who haven’t boarded 10 minutes prior to departure time.

With my 9 year old crying, and daddy storming around in a profanity-laced tirade, the gate agent erroneously communicated to Yvonne our seats were given to others and the plane had left the gate. The reality is that the plane was still attached to the jet-way, and there were still seats—just not enough to accommodate my whole family. In a rush, my 9 and 14 year old kids boarded the plane with grandma and their carry-on bags, while Yvonne and I were forced to craft a fallback plan. This was not an easy task, given most flights were already booked beyond capacity for Spring Break.

Ultimately, Yvonne and I would rent a car from Dulles Airport, and spend 9 treacherous hours driving to Charlotte, NC—where we would catch a flight to St. Thomas the next morning. The drive was one I’d like not to repeat. Every 15 minutes between Spotsylvania and North Carolina, the emergency broadcast system would interrupt our radio programming to warn of yet another tornado warning—all while we struggled driving through wind, dark clouds, and blinding rain throughout the trip. Sadly, we later learned of significant damage and loss of life throughout the Southeast that day. Our saga wouldn’t end there.

Upon checking into our hotel room at 10:30 p.m. that evening, we discovered it was already occupied by someone else. Not a big surprise, given everything we had been through that day. The front desk apologized and issued another room. We opened the door—only to find it too was in shambles. Candidly, I was too exhausted to be angry and simply wanted this day to be over.

We finally caught up with the rest of the family in St. John, but not before drinking a couple Bushwhackers at the St. Thomas airport. Not only was the Bushwhacker the drink of choice when Yvonne and I first met in St Thomas (1993), but we now had to wait for my oldest daughter’s luggage, who had just flown in from Minneapolis. This was Sunday afternoon—and as luck would have it—her luggage never made the connecting flight. It finally arrived on Tuesday night. Equally disturbing was that Lydia’s return flight to the States was rescheduled from 3:30 p.m. to 9:00 a.m. yesterday without us being notified. I’m left to ponder whether all of these events were a strange coincidence—or if the level of service has deteriorated that much in recent years.

We had a great time in St. John. We stayed with my brother and his family in a beautiful house with a pool overlooking one of the bays. Just down the road were my sister, her youngest daughter, and my mom—with whom we were celebrating her 70th birthday. Each day was spent relaxing at the beach and snorkeling at places like Cinnamon Bay, Francis Bay, and Waterlemon Cay. We did a hike on the Reef Bay Trail, and ate some nice meals at places like Rhumblines, Banana Deck, Aqua Bistro, Caneel Bay, and Morgan’s Mango. Interestingly enough, our bartender (Andrew) at Morgan’s Mango was from Bethesda—went to Georgetown Prep and University of North Carolina. I’m curious how his parents feel about stroking a check for twenty five large (for high school), pay for a 4-year degree thereafter—only to have their son spend years bartending in the Virgin Islands.

Certainly, one of the highlights of the trip was McKenna getting bitten by a mule, a fish, and an iguana—all within 24 hours. Talk about bad karma. What are the chances of that happening? St. John is a beautiful place, and we enjoyed seeing it through the eyes of my siblings and my mom. It’s also a real treat when the cousins spend so much quality time together.