A Little Bit of Honeymoon Heaven

Killer held to his word and took me to a tropical island for our honeymoon. I love the beach and sun and had these grandiose ideas of what it would be like to visit a tropical island for our honeymoon.  It would be my first time in an airplane. It would be my first time out of the country.  As children we traveled the United States, but we had never left the country.  I was excited.  I thought we’d try things and go places and well, have a wonderful honeymoon. It wasn’t near what I had envisioned or experienced since.

Killer made all the plans.  We were going to Cayman Brac.  For those of you not familiar with Cayman Brac, don’t feel bad, I had no idea where it was either. I had heard of the Cayman Islands, Grand Cayman as well, but Cayman Brac? Cayman Brac is 90 miles northeast of Grand Cayman.  It is roughly twelve miles long with an average width of one mile. It is known for its Bluff that is a large central limestone outcrop that rises steadily along the length of the island.  Its attractions are diving, caves, rock climbing, walking and hiking trails and fishing.  I’ve already got you convinced that your next vacation needs to be booked immediately, don’t I?

My luck with vacations began with this one.  Cayman Brac had not seen a hurricane since 1969. August 5, 1980, Hurricane Allen hit the island with winds of up to one hundred and fifty five miles per hour.  Our honeymoon was arranged by Killer and in hindsight; he had to have known we were headed to Hurricane Hell as he made the arrangements after we were married in November 1980. Our trip was scheduled for the last week in March 1981. We were on our honeymoon when President Reagan was shot on March 31. I was one week shy of turning twenty one.

We flew to Miami and spent the night.  The next morning we flew to Grand Cayman and from there we got on a small “pull start” plane to fly to Cayman Brac.  I call it a pull start because once we were boarded; weight and balance checks were made to confirm the weight of all the passengers was equally dispersed.  The plane didn’t start and so the bell hops at the airport were eyeing the propeller with a screw driver and a pair of pliers.  I was not nervous as I was a seasoned flier by this point.  In two days this was my third flight ever! Killer was a bit nervous though, he feared the water as he did not swim, I guess this is why he booked our honeymoon on an island that’s main attraction was diving!

Eventually the plane started and we were off to this tropical island of paradise.  I noticed women with bags of groceries and laundry. I thought this to be a bit on the strange side as I had not seen passengers on my other flights carrying groceries or laundry.  Where was he taking me?

As we stepped off the plane, the airport consisted of a canopy that you walked through to your dream vacation.  It did not slightly resemble what I had witnessed in Miami or Grand Cayman where the signs welcomed you to international airports.

I had not been told of the hurricane until my feet were planted on this foreign soil. As we drove to the only hotel that had survived the storm, my eyes were widened with curiosity as I saw firsthand the devastation that wreaked havoc on this small haven the natives called their home.

We arrived at our hotel and the damage was quite visible but people were working to rebuild.  There was no water in the pool as it had been destroyed.  I am confident this war zone had looked worse six months prior when the storm had fallen into the laps of the natives that called this home.  We took our luggage to the room.   It did not compare to the hotels we had stayed in during our whirlwind romance. You could not drink the water as it had been affected by the storm. There were no restaurants on the island as they had all been damaged.  The only restaurant available to eat was in the hotel lobby.  All three meals were taken in this room for a week. 

The first day we visited, the waiter asked us if we would care to see THE menu.  He was not joking when he referred to this document in singular form.  There was one menu, typed each day and it was passed from patron to patron as they entered the space where we gathered for our meals.

I was thirsty for a Pepsi.  I was sadly informed by the bartender that there was no Pepsi on the island and the next shipment was not due in several days.  No Pepsi? Are you kidding me?  Killer takes me to a tropical paradise that does not have Pepsi? I lived on Pepsi.  It could be a main meal for me at times!  The only thing available for refreshments on this tropical paradise was adult beverages of which I did not partake in.  Perhaps this was the part of Killer’s plan when he breezed through the brochure, an island where you can get your wench drunk and take advantage of her.  Unfortunately, I was sober the entire trip and remember it all too well.

We were told of a small convenience store on the other side of the island that would have Pepsi delivered when the ship came to dock. We rented scooters and headed over to this shopping mecca a few days later.  There was but one road that crossed the island and it sat at the end of the run way.  The police were standing guard as we approached and would not allow us to go any further.  They explained to us that a DC 10 was about to depart and it would need every inch of the runway to clear the thick foliage beside us.  I could not believe this, but as I stood there the plane came roaring down the path that flew the natives to islands where groceries could be purchased and laundry could be done, I could have reached up and touched the belly of this bird as it flew off the island of paradise.  

We were allowed to cross and we headed toward our destination only for disappointment to settle in more.  The ship could been seen from shore, but the waters were too choppy for it to come in to deliver the needs of the natives.  We walked into this grocery store where we discovered milk was twelve dollars a gallon, a dozen eggs were over five dollars and my beloved Pepsi was over three dollars a can.  In the States, I could buy an entire case for what one can would cost me here on Honeymoon Heaven. But the racks were empty of product, the only thing left was the sandy remains of Hurricane Allen.

There was nothing to do on this island.  Killer did not like to sunbathe. He did not swim.  He did not enjoy walks on the beach.  He did not enjoy exploring, what he did enjoy, was taking photos of me in nothing more than my birthday suit. Again, it was explained, this was my wifely duty.

The stripping of my self worth and dignity started on this little island of paradise. He started slowly, stating that I should consider myself lucky that a man would find me beautiful and want to take photos of me. He continued with how lucky I was that he chose me as his wife as I was not worldly like he was, I was a mere child that needed to be shown the ways of the world.  He was here to show me off when all others had abandoned me.

There are so many days that I relive these moments and wish I could stand before him with the knowledge and experience I have today.  Killer would have seen his project in full techno color as I paralyzed him with my backbone rigid and my grammar perfected as I kindly spoke to him as only a lady could by telling him to not let the door hit him where the Lord split him.