He learned to like tomatoes and almost lost his virginity.

Oppressive heat and humidity mirrored the government's
philosophy, that is, be heavy, constant and
omnipresent. But, he only knew about the weather.

He was eighteen and white as only a terminally bundled
up kid from Western New York winters can be. Having
spent his first winter in Colorado, he did sport the
tanned/burnt face and raccoon eyes from wearing
sunglasses while skiing every day. At the time, it
was considered cool in Colorado. A kind of social
indicator, like being white skinned in Edwardian
England or being overweight in India is a sign of
wealth. The raccoon eyes meant you were a skier.

This was not Colorado. And these people would never
get raccoon eyes even if they skied a hundred days a
year.

He was ignorant of politics. And that's what the
tourist agency preferred. A tourist charter nonstop
from Denver to Montego Bay, for a week of all
inclusive, exclusive tourism, doesn't want you to know
about that damn Bob Marley etc. And he didn't. Not
many people did know about him yet, this being April
of 1978. Bob was still alive and on island.

The humidity was such that a haze hung low and near,
mixed with the heat waves, it produced a surreal
scene from first step off the plane. It would have
been exotic, no matter what. Sure, he had been on an
island before. He had been to the Thousand Islands and
there was an island on Heaths pond where the kids used
to play hockey. That's about it. Oh yeah, he had
camped illegally on Goat Island between the American
and Horseshoe Falls at Niagara Falls. He grew up
ninety miles from Canada and had been there often
enough. But, this was his first 'foreign' country. The
trees, the roads, the people, the clothes, the air,
the smell, the heat, the language, the currency, the
food, the water, the beer, the police, the animals,
the buildings, the cars, the music, it was all
exciting and intimidating. Before he knew it though,
everything was somehow more familiar.

The Montego Beach Hotel played 'regular' music. You
didn't need currency, but if you did want to use it,
the staff was eager to accept American dollars. It
was, oh so gated and green and swept clean. The taxi
ride from the airport to the hotel would remain his
favorite part of the trip.

He got the sunburn of his life. By the end of the
first day, he was cooked. It had taken him a while to
grasp that people would pay fifty dollars for
sunglasses in Colorado. He never even owned a pair
back home. Didn't need 'em. After he sunburned his
eyes skiing at A-Basin, (with a base elevation of
eleven thousand feet) he gladly shelled out the fifty.
But, he also didn't know about sunscreen.

Soon enough, his friends were taking pictures of him up
against the crumbling pink stucco walls of the
compound, er, I mean hotel. His pink, peeling, scaly
with white underneath skin, bore a remarkable
resemblance to the walls.

He learned to like tomatoes and almost lost his
virginity. Anybody else would have, lost their
virginity, that is,. I don't know about the tomatoes.
The evening staff winked conspiratorially as he was
being escorted by the hand toward the beach. The girl
doing the towing carried a sheet and a pillow in her
other hand. They spent the night in the sand. He found
it glorious and bewildering. She must have thought him
gay afterwards. He wasn't. Somehow he never
understood. But he did get bitten by something in the
night that would lead to extreme embarrassment soon
enough. He would carry the scar on his butt for life.
Without going into too much detail, three holes opened
on his left cheek and took a long time to close and
heal. He couldn't sit right for a long time.

They put on a skit and won first prize in the 'talent'
contest. They wore palm fronds on their arms, they
were draped in bed sheets and had scarves on their
heads. They devised a dance routine and sung 'Tip Toe
Through Jamaica' as their other friend rudimentarily
plinked it on the hotel piano. They bowed gracefully
and ran off the end of the pier and dove into the
ocean. They nearly drowned, wrapped in sheets and
scarves, as they were getting a standing ovation. That
put the show over the edge. They won big rum umbrella
fruit drinks similar in color to the hotel walls and
of course, his still beaming pink skin.

Let's see, they got harassed by a man with a machete
at Ocho Rios. But, the hotel van driver scared him
off. I don't think people get bothered at Ocho Rios
anymore. It's turned into a big tourist stop. The
weapon wielding man probably knew this was coming and
was trying to save his private paradise. Tourism is
not without its negative impacts.

All 156 people on this charter sort of knew each other
by the end of the week. Certainly they all knew us. We
won the talent contest! The flight back to Denver
reflected this familiarity. The stewardesses tried to
stop serving but it was too late. The passengers were
up and singing and pillow fighting. They self-served
and emptied the plane of alcohol. Someone was
reprimanded for trying to light up on the plane, not
arrested, not detained upon arrival, just told not to
do it. This was just before Nancy Reagan. Lucky for
him. Customs was a big drunken humor festival, if you
happened to be one of the passengers that is. What
would they do today if an entire planeload of
passengers except the children were acting like
children? Tourism is not without its negative
impacts.

They were surprised to find their stash still hidden
in the bathroom. None of them was brave/stupid enough
to try to carry it on the plane. Besides, duh, they
were going to Jamaica. Need I say more?

He and his talented friends got through, got luggage
and got out. They found Ralph's white '66 Ford
Galaxie, but just barely. It was buried. It was
Colorado Front Range blizzarding. Up in the mountains
they love the snow. Denver is next to the mountains,
not in them. It might as well be most places in the
country that, unlike ski towns, hate snowstorms and
have trouble functioning in them.

They fired up and drove up. They barely made Floyd
Hill. A front engined, two wheel, rear wheel drive,
four door, twelve year old sedan is almost required to
have bald tires. Ralph's passed the test. They made
Silverthorne that night. Sunburn and a snowstorm. He
discovered that he loved traveling. And the world was
getting bigger by the day. Exactly one week later four
of them boarded another plane in Denver and flew to
L.A. He had never been to California either.