if its too good to be true...

...it probably is...

So, how great would it be to get an email from your soon-to-be-boss about renting an island with some officers and chill-laxing on a private beach for the 4 day weekend?! You'd probably be like, yeah! That sounds great! Then...over the next few days...you'd find out the following...after you already agreed to go...

1) There is no air conditioning in the "cabin"

2) There is no flushing toilet...you have to burn "everything"...

3) The trip is going to cost about 300$ more than you agreed to (you have to take ferrys and water taxies everywhere and buy gas for the generator)

4) No TV, Radio, Communication

5) No officers, just male NCOs and your male boss and their "cantrachas" (Honduran women..."friends" that don't speak English)

6) No food, you have to bring EVERYTHING YOU'LL NEED...on a 6 hour overland bus ride and 2 1-hr ferry rides

7) The island is only about 50 yards long...so there is no escape!

As these details begin to unfold (none of the information came from my boss who encouraged me to go) I got progressively angrier and redder (my rash gets REALLY red when I get irritated) and started flaring my nostrils ever wider until I finally snapped and told my co-workers, who were smart enough to know better than to agree to go in the first place, that I was going to back out of the trip...

..."DEAD LT WALKING!" "YOU DON'T WANT TO SIT NEXT TO THE LT...YOU MIGHT GET ON THE COLONEL'S BAD LIST TOO...GUILTY BY ASSOCIATION!", etc. were the calls that would ring through the halls of my building, the chow hall, and from random passersby as I would pass through. By lunchtime I was convinced that he was going to blacklist me and the next 6 months would be pure hell as my boss would HATE me.

...but the thought of all that time alone with him and his contrachas didn't sit well with me...so I stuck to my guns and told him I wasn't going...he blew me off and said we'd talk later, so I sent him a well-written email to ensure that he knew that I would not be going on his little escapade to babysit him and his contrachas.

When I walked into his office after he returned, I was fully prepared to have my birthday taken away and get ordered to clean the latrine...but instead, he just acted...wait for it...disappointed! Really?! I had totally prepared myself for a chewing...but he was just disappointed, and then I felt bad!

...but it was a fleeting feeling and I jumped in one of the gas-powered golf carts and drove away through the dirt roads...hooting and hollering at my victory...honking at the chickens and kicking up gravel all the way home....

Score another for the LT...no longer on Contracha-duty!

Jane...out...