Island Time

After rainy, stormy weather the Turtles hit land on the island of Tortola, part of the British Virgin Islands.  They rented a car and braved the winding roads.  A couple of brief stops later and they were at a ferry terminal (just because they are spending day and night on a ship doesn’t mean they can’t do even more boating!).  Another twenty minutes later and they arrived at an island called Jost van Dyk – named after a Dutch pirate, can you believe it?

At first they were at a loss but as luck would have it they ran into a group of four friends who were headed to White Beach and an open-air taxi (like a minibus without doors and windows) was shared by everyone.  The views from the hills were breathtaking and the Turtles were almost sorry that the journey to the beach was so short.  The seven passengers agreed with the taxi driver to pick them up again at 4:30pm as the last ferry back to Tortola was at 5pm and it was not exactly the type of placed that swarmed with tourists and taxis.

White Beach is a small stretch of, yes, you guessed it, white sand and the weekend “yachties” often stop close to the beach and then swim, drinks held high above the heads, towards the Soggy Dollar Bar.  Apparently sailors have been known to do this for many years, hence the bar’s name.  It was an odd sight – people doggy-paddling using their legs and one arm while the other arm was stretched high above their heads.  Like human submarines.

Myrtle headed to the change room and overheard the following conversation between two women who were in line for the same facility:  “I’m not gonna wait, I’m gonna have another painkiller and will come back later”.  “Mmmm”, the other woman replied, “I have to go now”.  “OK, can I get you another painkiller too?”  “Yeah, sure, thanks”.  Myrtle’s mouth hung open and the questions, in her mind, ran wild.  Handing out painkillers, in public?  Were they hurt? (One woman had a minor scrape on her leg, but did that really warrant medication?) Is it common for girlfriends to share pills? (Except for the odd Panadol or Disprin none of my friends have offered me drugs – do I hang out with the wrong crowd?)  Were they going to offer me a painkiller and more importantly, would I accept it? (They didn’t so I didn’t either).

Myrtle couldn’t wait for Tony to reappear from his side of the change rooms to tell him what she overheard.  Before he came out she saw a sign above the dustbin: “Please help us recycle – place all Painkiller glasses in this bin”… it took a couple of seconds but the penny finally dropped:  A Painkiller is the signature cocktail. Duh!  Maybe too much holiday makes you dense.  Or maybe it’s not the holiday…

Anyway, the Turtles had a ball on the beach, swimming, playing, singing along to the tunes drifting from the beach bar and generally enjoying a fabulous day out.  At 4:20pm the Turtles, always cautious, were waiting for the taxi.  At 4:35pm they were joined by the four frisky friends who had way too many Painkillers.  At 4:45pm even they were worried.  At 4:50pm the Turtles knew they were going to miss the last ferry, would have to overnight on Jost van Dyk and then fly to Martinique to meet up with the ship!  At 4:53pm Mr Bunt, the taxi driver, arrived.  “You’re killing us, Mr Bunt!” one of the friends called.  “No mon,” Mr Bunt replied, “da ferry will wait, island time, mon.”  Da ferry did wait and the Turtles made it back to the ship, just in time.  Phew!  Close call but a great day all in all!