Unbelizeable, The Adventure Beyond Ordinary. Follow the tales of seven tipsy sailors and a Captain called Slime as they cruise the Caribbean for seven amazing days.

The sound of the I Phone alarm rings at 4:30 AM. I get up while six sleepy dogs peek their heads above the covers with a “you’ve got to be kidding” look as they circle twice, flop back down and return to sleep. My bags are packed and Belize is calling. In a few short hours I will be in the tropics with my friends having a cocktail on the beach. I kiss the dogs, tell them I will return in a couple weeks and I’m off to the Asheville airport – about 15 miles away. I have allowed myself plenty of time before flight time at 7:45 AM.

Driving down 64 west I gaze down at the gas gauge and realize I should have put some fuel in the tank yesterday. Oh well, I should have enough I mused. Another few miles and Dora starts sputtering and I recognize the sign. Oh NO! She is in desperate need of gas and is actually running on fumes at the moment. I wonder if I do run out if I have enough time to make the flight? It would be close and I’m not in the mood to deal with it.

Yikes! I beg Dora to hang on telling her we will find a gas station as I pass an exit sign that says petrol is one mile away. She chugs a bit more and I let off the gas just as I see the ramp and a blessed Marathon station. We cruise off the freeway only to find a red light at the intersection, OMG. The lights in Hendersonville are notoriously the longest ever. We wait and we wait, and wait some more. I put Dora in neutral and remove my foot from the pedal, all the while talking to her and willing the light to change. Finally! A green light as I cautiously push the gas and plead with her to not die. Yippee, we are actually moving forward albeit at a snail’s pace and we literally coast up to the pump. Wheeew! Thanks Dora. We pump the gas and we’re off again toward the Airport only losing about 15 minutes. No worries we still have plenty of time and I am now wide-awake, or wired would be a better description.

Checking in at a small airport is a breeze, I wait for my Atlanta connection to depart and settle into the idea of a vacation from my life as a multiple dog owner and landlord extraordinaire. I’m ready. Arriving on A concourse in Atlanta the monitor says Gate D37 for the international flight to Belize City. I take the tram and then the escalator up to D concourse. There are only 38 gates in this concourse and well you guessed it, my gate is all the way to the end. I am lugging two bags, camera, and computer to what seems to be a never-ending walk to the gate and feel exhausted already. At last I see the D37 sign and sigh, but the gate is – well, Empty???? An agent tells me there is a gate change and the new one is E18. What? Another concourse, I shriek. But it’s only one over from here was her reply.  Maybe for you honey, but I have already completed a half marathon to get here, as I turn around and head back the way I came.

Through the concourse, down the escalator to the tram again, back up the escalator to an E gate that I can only hope has not changed again by the time I get there. I need a drink. I find the gate and the fight is delayed for 45 minutes, which means I have time to find the bar. It’s only 10:30 AM but I’m on vacation. I settle in across from the gate and order a Bloody Mary, a house Bloody Mary that I gulp down because they are now boarding. It cost $12.80, OMG. Who said the south is cheap? I have never paid that much for a drink in the Anchorage airport. Oh well, I’m on vacation.

I finally get settled in my seat and the plane is packed. There are multiple church groups that are going to Belize to help build schools in the city. Each group is surprised to see another one, thinking their youth congregation has the market on volunteer work in this country. Apparently there are at least three different organizations on board and I find myself in the middle of their debate. Oh well, I’m not with any church group so I order a mojito. That seemed to stop the conversation cold. I smile and say I need to get in the island spirit. I usually don’t drink on flights because I don’t like how it feels later. But, I’m on vacation. The mojito was so bad that it didn’t even resemble what I thought I was getting. Because of that, I ordered another one just to be sure.

I settle into the 3.5 hour fight nicely, actually I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I know the plane is bouncing around on what feels like a gravel runway and the temperature inside the cabin is so humid that it is excruciating. My head is pounding and the inside of my mouth feels like sandpaper. I realize we have landed, let the party begin but first I need a breeze, any movement of air would be nice. The church groups have resumed their conversation about who is doing what and where they are doing it. OMG, my heartbeat is slamming inside my head. Get me out of here; it is so hot that I am stripping off my sweatshirt first and then my shirt. I’m down to a tank top and can’t remove anything else respectfully, but I bet it would shut the volunteers up. Can we please get off?

Charles the Taxi Driver

Finally I feel the warm island air hit me in the face as we are herded to the customs line where fortunately English is the preferred language. Clearing customs takes only a few minutes, and now to find taxi. I follow the exit signs and find a cab driver to take me to the water taxi headed for San Pedro and the Spindrift Hotel. Any car can obviously be a taxi, all you have to do is get in the line at the airport and put up a sign. Charles grabs my bags, opens the side door and we’re off at the speed of light. Am I really in Belize or is this NYC? We are flying down the road and I have no idea how far it is to my water transportation. Charles is a pleasant, older man telling me he lives by his grandfather’s model, who died at 104. When I ask what that is his reply is no booze, no caffeine and no tobacco. Well, okay I’ll keep my mouth shut about the dreadful mojitos on the plane.

Hangin' On

The windows are down and the breeze is swirling my hair around my head. The fog inside has lifted and my heartbeat is now back in my chest and out of my head. I settle into to the cab ride and actually enjoy chatting with this Belizean man, born on a much smaller island but spending his entire adult life in this very city. We are cruising in the country and when traffic gets congested I assume we are getting close to the water. Belize City is the mainland and I am headed to the Islands or Cayes (Keys) as they are called. We come up on a large pile of dirt in the center of the street and Charles stops the car and starts unloading my bags? We are here, I ask not being able to see anything that looks like a terminal. Another guy picks up the bags (thank goodness) and Charles tells me to follow him. Okay, in for a penny in for a dime - I hope this is where I want to be. I pay Charles 50 Belizean dollars ($25) plus tip, and follow this other guy around the dirt pile that must be part of a construction project, and across the street. We arrive at a small dock with a sign listing the ferry times. I buy my round-trip ticket and wait only 10 minutes before boarding a boat that will also travel at the speed of light.  I sit back, enjoy the sites and muse about the ultimate Booze Cruise that awaits me.

San Pedro from the Water Taxi

An hour later at 3:00 PM we arrive in San Pedro where the Toucan catamaran is being prepped for the Saturday crew that I am a part of, but first I need to find the Spindrift Hotel and my friends. Getting my bags – there is no one left to carry them at this point so I need to find the hotel soon. Like magic I look at the beach strip and there it is, my destination hotel right in front of me. I check in, drop my bags, change my clothes and go out to look off the lanai in search of familiar faces. And there they are – walking toward the hotel obviously in search of someone – well that would be me. Somehow we missed each other on the beach but I managed to get all by belongings up a flight of stairs by myself. I start waving and they finally look up and smile. We do the island greetings and head directly to the bar where a real mojito can be had. Instead I am talked into the island drink of choice, a Panty Ripper! Fruit juice and coconut rum, Yummy! We make plans for tomorrow - shopping for our sailing provisions and the booze. But for now we are making dinner plans for after the bar event that happens every Thursday night – the chicken drop? Don’t ask. . .

Chicken Drop Course

After the infamous drop we walk to a lovely beach side restaurant where we dine on the daily special of fresh grouper that absolutely melts in our mouth. The air has cooled off, the beach is magic and the sand between my toes is heavenly.

And so it were, from Asheville, North Carolina to San Pedro, Belize in a matter of hours, the UnBelizeable Adventure begins on a lovely Thursday evening under the stars. Life is good as several tipsy sailors along with Captain Slime enjoy several more beverages while waiting for the rest of the Toucan crew to arrive mañana.