Shrinkage
Posted on November 29, 2013 under Storytelling with no comments yet
Clackety clack. It’s the telltale sound of the arrival of tourists from all over the globe. Pale faced from lack of exposure to warm sunshine, they arrive with full wallets and suitcases of expectations. When you hear the sound, you know that someone has just arrived from the airport. It is the sounds of luggage being pulled along the cobbled pool deck leading to their rooms. It is a joyous sound.
Let the games begin.
The first few days are endless, getting reacquainted with old friends, stocking up the fridge with food and other essentials. And making the mandatory trip to the Frog Pond to consume a heart stopping, seven egg omelet. You stay up too late and get up too early. You are shamed into early morning walks even when your hair reeks from cigarette smoke after going to the bar the night before. You go to trivia even if it is long past your bedtime. You spend a lot of time at the railing looking out over the Gulf. Watching the sunset is not an optional activity here.
You settle into the comfortable routine and life is good. The universe is in perfect alignment.
And before you can say 70% percent off at Bealls, it is time to go. And just like the metamorphosis of a caterpillar as it turns into something beautiful, everything changes and it is time to leave.
But unlike the stunning monarch butterfly, our metamorphosis isn’t quite that pretty. All of a sudden there is shrinkage.
The most noticeable change is the lightness of our wallets and purses. How could it be that we brought so much American cash and now we are staring at a few crumpled one dollar bills? How is it possible to save so much money on sales at the department stores and return home penniless? Explain that, Benjamin Graham, the father of “value investing.”
The next thing we discover is that our neatly packed suitcases have shrunk. It seems like the combination of heat and humidity has somehow rendered them smaller. You push and shove and grunt trying to get the damn suitcase to close and soon realize that the laws of physics haven’t changed. Something must be done and usually this involves the purchase or barter of another suitcase. Déjà vu all over again.
And how about our clothing? The clothes we travelled south with, which have lain dormant for three weeks, now appear to have been swapped with a teenager. The jeans don’t quite fit and mercy of mercies, the belt buckle has to be let out by one eyelet. In the infamous words of Shoeless Joe Jackson, “tell me it ain’t so, Joe.”
Clackety clack. It is the mournful sound of friends leaving. One by one, they cross the deck for the last time. The last remnants of food and booze are deposited on the doorsteps of those staying on for another week or two. It is Saturday, changeover day at the resort, and there is a flurry of activity as tanned and relaxed people are met at the gate by another group of pale faced travellers.
Every year, new guests discover the magic. The one thing that doesn’t shrink is friendship.
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