It's like rain...

OK. Back from Antigua (pronounced An-TEE-ga). The trip was on Lynn, which made it a little uncomfortable on me. And it rained the first Saturday through the next Thursday. The final Friday was a tropical dream and we slathered ourselves in lotion while basking in the sun. She began that day with a scuba dive, which I’m technically not allowed to do thanks to a slew of concussions.

Frankly, we were sharing a bed and a room and had a helluva time for the first few days. Then the rain got us down. But when she returned from her dive, I had reserved a primo spot next to the pool and we were affectionate again. We bathed in the sun drinking Strawberry Coladas for a few hours before the inferno sun chased us inside for a nap that will go down in ages.

As far as Sandals Resorts go, don’t go to the one in Antigua. The restaurants are limited and the maids ignore the “Do Not Disturb” signs.

Lynn looks like a goddess in a bikini. I look like a swarthy, trunk-bodied porn mogul. But I can swim like a fish to the pool bar.

One thing about Lynn really had me concerned. She professed to be a non-smoker, but came back from a walk one afternoon smelling like the Marlboro man. She also seems to take a lot of pills recreationally. Including Ritalin. And a lot of speedy diet pills that don’t seem to mix well with alcohol. But I adore her, and she wants to get me a place at the beach.

Now what?