TRAVEL BUG TALES: WHERE IS FRANCES?
I know exactly how the families of those stranded on Gilligan’s Island felt. Frances left us to take a little boat tour and then she was gone – just gone.
We’ll Show You!
OK, we were disappointed when Frances didn’t return to the hotel that afternoon, but we weren’t surprised. We had a special event that evening, one she’d gotten us lined up with, so we were sure she’d show up about five minutes after we were supposed to leave.
We absolutely refused to be upset about this. We were dealing with Frances and that’s just how she was. Only she didn’t show up. We climbed into the transportation arranged for our excursion and headed off to another part of the island.
While Frances did have a tendency to run late, she wasn’t otherwise irresponsible. Debbie and I agreed that we weren’t happy about her absence, but it would be silly to make a big deal of it one way or the other. We were going to enjoy our outing and ignore that little twinge that kept saying, “What if something is wrong?”
Dinner Was Also Late
So we arrived at the restaurant, which was full of happy patrons, to discover that somehow they didn’t know we were coming. Not to worry, have some planter’s punch and chill.
So we had some planter’s punch and then we had some more and then we had a little more. See, the planter’s punch was complimentary and it was also very, very good. It was also strong enough to knock you into next week.
Now if Frances had been with us, I’m sure she would have negotiated some wonderful compromise and we would have been served al fresco out by the sea. But Frances wasn’t there. Whoever had decided they were in charge instead did not have her skills. We were sequestered in a side room and drowned in planter’s punch, but the only other thing we got were promises.
In spite of being three sheets to the wind, we began to realize our transportation would soon be coming back and there was no food in sight. We’d paid for dinner and there hadn’t been any. Now I will confess I was so out of it that I have no idea what all went on, but there was a lot of it. Remember, there are no cellphone, no Uber, no UberEats – nothing. We’d missed the dinner buffet at the hotel and there was no Mickey D’s. Somehow it was communicated to our transportation to come a little later and eventually, we got a table.
I have to tell you, that’s one of the best seafood dinners I ever had. I’m sure it helped I was starving to death, but that wasn’t all of it. Everyone agreed we’d been lucky to find out about this place and have the chance to eat here. We decided it was worth the hassle of waiting – and besides, the planter’s punch had been amazing.
As we dug into the bounteous feast, the food soaked up the alcohol and I began to come out of my haze. By the time we left, I was stone sober. I hoped that Frances would be there when returned. Come back next week and see if she was.
2 thoughts on “The Plot Thickens”
No police are involved in the telling of this story – thankfully!
I sort of hope that Frances wasn’t there and that you didn’t spend the night in a police cell!