Everyone went to the show but me; I wasn’t feeling right, so I said good night and headed to my room. Opening the door and walking to the bed I lied down, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. There’s one light on, just enough so that I won’t fall asleep. I spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, motionless, thoughtless, emotionless, an empty shell of a man, lying quietly and alone.

What happened that night, I’ll never know, why I felt that way, what brought it on, still remains a question. That was the way it was, that was how I felt, and that was what happened. I eventually fell asleep; the day was over and a new one was to come in the morning.

Something died in me that night, maybe it was my inhibitions, or the part of me still left over from before I learned about existentialism. Maybe I died and the ‘me’ that exists now is someone else. After this evening I was a different Sandy, a Sandy that came into existence when the old Sandy died. Either way, this was another turning point. Again things were changing, my perspective was shifting and thus the world was changing.

NOTE:

The novel at novelog will be back in two weeks from a break for Christmas and the New Year. There will continue to be posts so keep on checking out the site.

After showering and getting dressed, I jumped onto my bed and relaxed for awhile, waiting for a knock at the door. I continued to listen to the single Dallas Green song on Max’s Mp3 player, over and over. There was a knock at the door, Max answered. It was dad; he said he was headed to the restaurant for dinner. By this time it was dark, but it was still warm, and I was comfortable in my short sleeve shirt.

Listening to the song had put me in a bizarre mood, just being. I didn’t feel any emotions or think any thoughts, quiet and still. Restaurants at resorts are usually buffets, everyone gets their own food. I filled my plate with bits of everything, and then came back to my seat to eat. Finishing quickly I sat back, quietly, motionless, starring at the wall ahead. After the meal everyone sat and talked; the whole time I remained still, looking straight ahead. No one said a word to me, and I said nothing to them.

I was feeling strange, a feeling I had never felt before. My mind was still and I was quiet; all I wanted to do was stare into the nothingness. After an hour of talking and silence, everyone got up and headed to the evening show; I followed. Resort shows are low quality and poorly put together. But what would one expect in a third world country, with employees who work 12 hour days, hardly get paid, and have a minute budget?

After going through customs, we pile onto a bus. We always go to resorts; it’s the easiest way to travel, but prevents any authentic experience from happening; resorts are always the same. The bus ride takes well over two hours, not because the resort is far away, but because we’re the last group to get dropped off. As the bus travels down a single lane dirt road, trees and bushes brush against the sides; there are buildings in the distance. Once parked, we grabbed our luggage and waited for the keys to our rooms.

Keys in hand we walked across the resort towards our rooms, passing pools, palm trees, bars and places to eat. Getting to our room we chilled out, before heading to the beach. After grabbing chairs and a place with a view, Max and I headed to one of the many bars for a drink. We asked for beer; after handing it to us the bartender says, “If you want anything, I’m your man, cocaine, marijuana, pills. I can get it!” This was sketchy, we just arrived and we were already being solicited for drugs.

While seated at the beach I borrowed Max’s Mp3 player; he’s really into Dallas Green and I’d never heard of him before. Turning on the song, I was hooked. I listened to it repeatedly for 2 hours; the song was called ‘Save Your Scissors.’ It was sad, but I kept on listening.

It was getting close to dinner time so I headed to the room to have a shower and get dressed. Max’s luggage had been lost, so he didn’t have anything to wear. He borrowed some of mine; I was into clothing at the time. If I was going to spend money it would be on clothes, so I had lots to share. Max and I wore the same size, so it worked too.

Airports are always an interesting place, an experience like no other, people coming and going, greeting and saying good bye; emotions always fly at airports. It’s 6:30 am; dad always adds urgency to situations like these, people move quicker when they don’t have time. This group always takes its time, especially when there is a rush. I’m surprised to see so many people lined up waiting to catch planes so early on a Saturday morning. Everyone has somewhere to go and it’s spring break; loads of students head to vacation spots.

We go through the checking in process; our bags are thrown on a conveyer belt and we head to the terminal to wait. You’re expected to check in early, so you can sit around aimlessly waiting to board the plane. For most of this time I listen to my IPod, everyone has one; it’s an interesting social trend. Makes me wonder, are they actually good or do people just buy them because they’re trendy? After more than hour we board the plane and I grab a window seat. First time ever, even though I’ve been on a plane at least ten times.

The flight is long and there aren’t any TV’s, so there is no entertainment. I listen to my IPod and try to sleep, but can’t. I’ve always had trouble sleep in moving vehicles. The flight was typical and without incidence. We landed around 1 pm on the tourist side of the island, far away from Kingston and an authentic Jamaican experience. I’ve been to Jamaica before; we spent the days at the beach. On the way by taxi we pass though a city; it’s different from any city I’ve ever seen, dirty, crowded and decrepit, cows walked the streets freely.

Before, Before

One of the benefits of my father being rich was that he took Max and me on trips over spring break. If not for him, I wouldn’t have ever gone on a trip, even to this day. This year’s destination was Jamaica, a country notorious for Rastafarians and marijuana.

We headed to the airport the night before our early morning flight, so that we wouldn’t have to get up at 3 am. Settling in, we had dinner and headed to bed for an early night.

The phone rang in my ear; rolling over and looking at the clock, it’s 5 am. What an early morning, answering the phone; my brother will sleep through anything. I say, “Hello”, it’s dad. “Get out bed and wake your brother up! The plane leaves in an hour.” Hanging up, I tell Max to get up; we always share a room. This is how it works, boys in a room, girls in another. It was convenient; I always had lots of space and a place to be by myself if I needed it.

We, the family, headed to the restaurant for breakfast before the flight. Airplanes always have terrible food, or at least, that’s the reputation. I hadn’t found the food to be that horrible on the flights I’d been on, but French toast is usually better than the egg contraption I’d find on the plane, so the restaurant was a good call. We ate quickly because we were running out of time; finishing, we grabbed our luggage and headed to terminal one.

While on the topic, I mentioned Ayn Rand and ‘The virtue of selfishness.’ “It’s one of my favourite books!” She’s also a fan and asks what I think of egoism. “I like it, but it doesn’t match up with my other views on life.” She didn’t think this matter and it worked for her. Stayed on the topic she said “Selfishness and capitalism makes sense. Look at the world around us, it’s ruled by physical laws. Look at the government and political systems, they’re dominated by these ideas, it’s unavoidable.” She went on, “They don’t conflict with my views on meditation or happiness either. They are different, so they require different considerations.” She stopped for affect and added, “Think about it.”

We ended up talking for the rest of the night; we talked about all sorts of topics. I learned a lot from her and was forced to think about what she said and what I believed. We got along well so before she left I asked, “Can I have some contact information?” She laughed and wrote down her email address.

The thing about Noel was that she contradicted many of the ideals that I held true; she stood and represented values that I did not yet understand. What got me most was that she forced me to rethink a lot of what I believed. If it wasn’t for my expensive jeans she wouldn’t have talked to me, but then expensive jeans are a frivols purchase. They represent extensive materialism, but that was what started the conversation. A conversation, like many others, that changed me and lead to obscure conclusions. It was all thanks to Noel and my jeans.