Hey Mon, Back & Ready To Blog...Kinda

Ahhh. Nothing like a spontaneous week long vacation in the islands to rejuvenate your mind, body and soul. It was a rather last minute trip, pretty much unplanned with no agenda. The only thing on the itinerary was to relax and have some fun...put a giant checkmark beside that! Aren't those the best kind of trips? The ones where you fly by the seat of your pants and just explore as you go. Seven days and six nights (may have to check my math on that) where I unplugged and isolated myself from the world. I'm not one of those crazies who feels the need to get a little office work done while his toes are buried in smooth mounds on white sand. No, if I had my cell phone with me, I would of thrown it into the Caribbean upon the first ring. To me, vacation time is a time to escape. A time to getaway from "normal life" and live the life of a beach bum...minus turning your surfboard into a makeshift bed to sleep on.

This will come as a shock to the editors of "High Life" magazine, but people can visit Jamaica and actually enjoy themselves without hitting the bong every 15 minutes. I stopped counting the number of times I was offered a hit when it went into double digits. Random Rasta dude: "Hey mon, you wanna party?" I think I'll pass this time around, but I'm sure you will ask me again in about 5-10 minutes from now. Stoners and memory lost go hand-in-hand, in case you didn't know. So yes I did pass on the great abundance of fine marijuana they had readily available, but I did sample plenty of those delicious brownies - yum! (Kidding.)

Now that I'm back, I've brought home with me a nice nutty brown tan. A little glow across my face from the rays. A little hop in my step from the R&R and most importantly, a big smile on my face to remind me why I work so hard. It's life's little pleasures. Being able to get up and go at any time and not having to worry about the size of my wallet, something that was constantly on my mind during past travels. Being able to set my own work hours that embraces spontaneity. It's a freeing feeling. Jamaica doesn't have the mental stimulation like a visit to Paris would deliver, which by the way is on my travel to-do list. However, the idea of a trip to Bob Marley's homeland was to let my brain fry. Not fry from drugs, but fry in the warm sun on a beautiful beach. Not a thought or a care in the world. You gotta love that! Hmm, remind me again why I returned home?