"In The Bullseye Of A Hurricane", Part 7

I never did find that iguana lunch I'd been searching for, but after some quick sushi, we regrouped and rallied to the far side of the island for Sapphire Beach. It was amazing: slurping on sugarcane, snorkeling with wild tropical fish, hanging out with new friends and locals on an amazing stretch of St. Thomas. The end came all too quickly that day, but not a moment too soon.

By the time the sticky sandy seven of us were packed in the minivan, it was four o'clock. As our driver spun around to take us back to the boat, I double-checked with the others that passengers were expected to be aboard by half past five. That would give me about an hour to squeeze in a visit to Sib's, which hid two miles from town in the hills. With fingers crossed I borrowed the driver's cell phone. I placed a call and spoke to Sib's manager, who, remembering my efforts to visit the year before, immediately invited me over. By the time we reached the port and dropped off my friends, I had convinced our driver to take me the distance to the dart bar. He wasn't a dart player, but I knew that once I had him there, he would learn-plus I promised him a beer and whiskey for the favor.

Traffic was heavy in the island rush hour, with locals and tourists clogging the one lane roads. When we finally reached Sib's it was nearing five o'clock. I rushed in, introduced myself to the manager and starting talking and clicking like crazy, as the bartender poured the beer and whiskey. By now, the driver was definitely a bit curious about all my excitement. Finding the dart area, I feathered my flights together, and handed the darts and drinks to the driver to let him try. Despite having the wrong foot forward and throwing baseball style, his first shot was a bullseye! He was hooked. And, within moments, thanks to the manager, two of the best players on the island appeared, just to get a few moments with one very rushed darts-travel blogger. Obviously, they were as excited to meet me as I was to be there. While one of them threw with the driver, I interrogated the other, speaking as fast as possible about the dart scene on St. Thomas. But again, time was short, and I wouldn't even have time for one leg with my new brethren. Fortunately, one of the players offered to personally zip me back to port in the nick of time. As I thanked everyone and left Sib's, I looked back once more to see my driver, who had never played before, happily throwing with the best player on the island. I smiled, knowing I had just spread the game of darts a little further.

The ride back to the Grand Princess was a blur. Dropping me off with seconds to spare, we traded emails and I was off and running, literally. The docks were empty, and people lined the ship decks awaiting departure. They were also waiting to see who the last passenger was; the ship had been making final boarding announcements for fifteen minutes.

As I ran down the dock, the crowds on deck began cheering and waving. Filled with my own thrill, I let out my own joy scream, like a fan at a football game, increasing the applause from above. After some annoyed looks from the security crew at the gangplank, I got a wry smile from the x-ray machine man as I barely made it back on the ship with a "bing" that never sounded better.

That night was another cocktail fueled fiesta, from dinner to disco. Around two in the morning, watching the others do shots and dance, I leaned back against the glass of a window, two hundred feet over the ship's wake, thinking about how lucky I had been so far: darts in Miami, darts on a boat, darts in Barbados, and darts in St. Thomas, on top of all the other unforgettable people and places I now had the pleasure to know. Who cares if we won't make it to the Dominican Republic or Grand Turk? This adventure was already so satisfying, it was hard to organize all the happy thoughts in my head.

Tomorrow, we'd arrive in Puerto Rico, and since I knew there is little more to do there than wander the old city to the famous fort, as I did the year before, I decided I might just mellow out by sleeping in a bit, and slowing down my frantic pace at our last port, San Juan.









Contact © Global Darts. All Rights Reserved. Impressum