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Post #25: the Bajan Year Begins

I arrive on the island of Barbados on February 6th, 2021. I am wearing a long-sleeve shirt and linen pants and a hat representing a basketball team from a city that's two years behind me. It is ridiculously hot and humid, weather made all the worse by my attire, and the fact that I am standing on the tarmac of the Grantley Adams International Airport, beneath the cooling engines of an A320. I am trying to make a phone call: the customs broker who has been working with me to ensure a safe arrival on the island for me and my dog is nowhere to be found. The last of my fellow passengers has boarded a bus that ferries them away to the customs and clearance office. And so now, I'm standing on the tarmac with my dog on his leash, flashing paperwork at a helpful but bewildered and overwhelmed man named Daryl, and I have no idea where to go next.

I manage to get ahold of the man who is transporting Roo (my dog) to our quarantine hotel. Because animals have to go through one kind of clearance, and humans quite another, masters and pets must separate temporarily and handle their respective administrative duties. Thankfully, my transport is in place and waiting for Roo. I breathe a little. At least I know my dog is being taken to where we're supposed to go. Now - what about me?

Daryl crackles into a walkie-talkie attached to his shoulder and tells me, "one minute." Twelve minutes later, a baggage truck pulls up - if you've flown before, you'll know the one I'm talking about: single cab for the driver, trailer attached with canvas curtains affixed to either side, meant for hauling luggage from gate to aircraft. Except the only thing on the trailer is a dog crate. The crate looks like it will fit Roo, but barely. Roo cocks his head as the truck approaches and comes to a stop.
He sees the crate.
He looks up at me.
He sees me looking at the crate.
He looks back at the crate.
We look at each other.
He puts two and two together.
He screams at me with his eyes.

I pick Roo up. The driver of the baggage truck holds the crate vertically, and I lower Roo into the crate. It's the only way to get him in, and he HAS to go in. They pull the curtains to shade him from the heat, and the truck drives away toward the Animal Resource Center. I shout at the truck as it leaves, "I love you, buddy - I will see you soon!"

For the next half hour, Roo and I are traveling separate roads. I have to trust that he'll be there, waiting for me at the Moonraker Beach Hotel and Apartments, once I clear customs and gather my bags. None of my contacts are answering their phones - it's Saturday on the island, man. Who you think answering their phone at this time?

Welcome to paradise.
And so the Bajan Year begins.


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