“Come on, Dave, our section is boarding right now!”
“Alright, alright, let me finish this real quick--one sip left. Brainfreeze.”
“Can’t you drink a smoothie and run at the same time?”
“Just shut up and go to the terminal. i’ll be there in a sec.”
David and I had been friends since junior year of high school. We were both undergrads at Tulane and both pre-med students. We had gone to school together for as long as I can remember, but he was one of bakugan nerds in middle school. In high school he turned out to be cooler, and we’ve been friends since.
As of now we are going on a summer trip to Negril, Jamaica and meeting up with some kids from high school at the Sandals resort.
“That honestly had to be one of the best smoothies I’ve ever had, and at an airport Smoothie King.”
A young blonde scanned our boarding passes, and we walked through the tunnel to our seats.
“This is gonna be the most epic trip ever, man!” Dave exclaimed.
“Shut up, Dave, no one uses the word epic anymore.This isn’t 2012--but, yes, this will be a super fun trip.”
“I’m pretty sure they do use that word still, but okay.”
Dave grabbed his neck pillow and settled in for the flight. I grabbed a Sky Mall magazine and looked at all the obnoxiously expensive gadgets I wishI could buy.
After what seemed like no time at all, the view outside of the window changed from a deep blue to a beautiful, baby blue speckled with black spots. The bright sun caused the water to glitter, only increasing the beauty of my view.
I heard a muffled announcement on the loudspeaker of the plane. It didn't matter because I knew what was going on I've heard it many times. The plane would be landing shortly.
As we walked through the Kingston airport, Dave became curious and felt the need to stop at every kiosk and shop.
“Dave, we seriously need to hurry up. Wee have a pretty long drive ahead of us.”
“Yea, yea, yea, sorry for being interested in the culture man.”

I actually was incredibly interested in the culture, certainly more than Dave was. I just didn’t like to be one of those tourists who look overly excited with their fanny-packs and $1,000 cameras with a little line of white sunscreen on their nose. Those are the kinds of people who get scammed in a place like this. I know I would never fall for any of those kind of tricks. 
I drove our rental car out of the parking lot and onto the busy highway that would take us to our resort. Me and Dave fantasized about deep sea fishing trips, beautiful beaches, pina colodas, and classic reggae music.
When we finally reached our destination, we were met by a young valet and woman who checked us and showed us to our room.
“We have top of the line amenities here, so there will be no need for you or your friends to leave the resort.” The woman exclaimed pridefully.
“I’m sure we will have plenty of reason to--we wouldn't want to limit our Jamaican vacation to a few acres.”
“Alright, well be weary of the many beach swindlers. Wewe forced them out of our property a few years ago. It was a real problem.”
“Don’t worry: we aren’t the easily fooled type.”
The woman left the room, and we quickly unpacked and got dressed for a quick cliff diving experience over at Rick’s Cafe before sunset.
“Michael’s flight was delayed, so they will be meeting up with us tomorrow,” Dave said.
“Okay, they won’t miss too much.”
We then went on ahead to Rick’s and met up with the lead diving instructor. The cliff is about 55 feet and the water is 20 feet deep. There was a cave to the side of the water where a few bums hang out. We were instructed by the man to jump far off of the side, extend our feet downwards, and put our hands to the side. Dave went first and dove perfectly and torpedoed down into the perfectly clear water. I was next--I decided not to think about it too much and stood on the jumping spot--before my instructor could say a word, I was in the air. As I hit the water, I felt a dull pain in my hamstrings and the bottom of my feet. I could hear from 10 feet under the sea Dave say, “Damn that had to hurt!”
Apparently, I hadn’t extended my legs or feet far enough out. I guess a flat surface flying in the air from 55 feet doesn’t quite glide through the water.
I spent the night lying face down to avoid the pain. Eventually, I woke up to the sound of vibrations from Dave’s electric toothbrush. We decided to spend the morning at this particularly nice public beach a few miles down the road.
The sun’s rays felt great on the back of my legs and feet. I simply lay down in a chair while Dave was out exploring the water and playing with sea cucumbers.
After only a few minutes I heard some singing a few yards away from me. I turned around and saw a dreadlocked man with a guitar. Attached to the guitar was a small bucket --obviously for money. He was playing some classic Peter Tosh songs that would’ve had most tourists throwing money at him, but not me. I just sat and enjoyed the music. I dozed off for a few moments but was suddenly awoken by the music that had become even louder, and I sensed a tone of aggression. I simply dozed off again for a few moments but remembered to check my phone for a text from the guys. I saw a message from Dave saying, “Help.” I looked around and saw he was nowhere in sight.
I immediately stood up and grabbed the singer by the shirt, “Where did my friend go man?”
The man kept trying to sing and ignored me. I asked again. No answer. I ran around frantically looking for Dave and calling his name. I barged into the nearest shop and looked around. I entered the bathroom and heard Dave’s voice from inside a stall.
“Hey, man, can you get me some toilet paper.”
“You had me worried sick. I thought that aggravating singer had done something with you cause we didn’t give him money.”       
“o, man: no need to worry.”
“Let’s get out of here-- these public beaches are sketchy”
“No girls either”
We then hopped in the car. “What a bizarre experience!”
I then turned on the engine and we headed back to the Sandals to meet our friends.