When Blonde got laid off from her job in corporate America she and Brunette celebrated by taking a severance package trip to Turks and Caicos. The company’s demise had been slow and painful. Fortunately, some types of pain can be successfully erased by travel. Brunette is like a vulture looking at a limping chicken when she swoops down to snatch a travel bargain so we got a great deal and were on our way obscenely quickly. (Kind of like getting married at your spouse’s funeral.)
Everything about our visit to Turks and Caicos was a delight. The weather was perfect, our hotel a bargain, we got to eat outdoors and listen to music every evening, did a sailing trip and had fun exploring by car. Aside from Blonde getting knocked over on her sizable bum by the rudder of a Hobie Cat in front of a beach full of onlookers; Brunette jumping off another ship and disappearing (fully clothed) beneath the waves in front of her own audience; and Blonde walking around in bright yellow panties and nothing else in front of an uncovered lighted window that overlooked the restaurant in early evening, everything went smoothly.
Our enjoyment was considerably enhanced by the fact that back in the States a major blizzard was pounding both of our home cities, especially Brunette’s. What makes a vacation better than knowing that those at home are miserable? It’s the proverbial icing on the cake. (Note to self: see if there’s a proverb about cakes and icing.) We hoped that we would be “forced” to stay longer because our home airports would be closed, Sadly, that hope didn’t pan out and our time on the island ended all too soon.
On the day of departure Blonde either looks like a bedraggled slob or gets all dolled up – no middle ground for some reason. She went for the all dolled up option on that fateful day. She did the hair thing, the makeup thing, and even wore a snazzy T-shirt that had built-in jewelry (sounds dreadful, but was adorable, really, it was.)
Crowded, humid airports generally don’t bring out people’s best personality traits. Adding to that the knowledge that we were going home to record snowfall only compounded the grumpiness clouds building over our heads.
Finally the gate agent told our group to head out to onto the tarmac to board and good luck with not getting our heads chopped off by propellers or being run over by random planes. As B&B got in line a tall, well-built, handsome, ebony man who worked for the airport or airline came running up to Blonde. To her amazement (and that of others for sure) he said “Oh you’re so beautiful! Will you please marry me”?
Blonde said “Thanks but no. I don’t like being married.” He was dumbfounded and asked if Blonde was “the other way” which presumably meant gay and which she isn’t (nothing against lesbians but they rarely wear T-shirts with sewn-on jewelery.) She said “No, I just tried it (marriage, not lesbianism) and I didn’t like it and I never want to do it again”. At this comment the man looked as horrified as if Blonde told him she was a Republican transgendered iguana (aka Paul Ryan). The scandalized suitor’s mask looked like the kabuki mask of horror as he turned and literally ran in the opposite direction. He never looked back.
Blonde was highly amused as were several gawking bystanders. However, the quick-thinking Brunette was dismayed by her sister’s behavior. She said “You should have accepted! He’s young, he’s in great shape, he has a job and he probably has health insurance. Plus it would really chap (insert her husband’s name here) ass to have a Black brother-in-law. And you could live in an island paradise”. You can hardly come up with any more compelling reasons to accept than that combo package. But by now we were on the plane and the gentleman caller was most likely running into the ocean screaming and with his with pockets filled with rocks.
In the movies Blonde would have pushed her way out of the plane and run after the handsome, matrimonially inclined man. In real life she took a seat and flew back home feeling like she still had “it”. (“Still” is very arguable.)
Fast forward to two and a half years later and not a day goes by that Blonde doesn’t wish she hadn’t let that man, or at least his probable health insurance, get away.