Back on St. Croix, I went to visit Mile Mark Charters (Big Beard’s competition) to see if they had a job for me working on one of their Buck Island boats. They didn’t but said I could go run a beach shack for them. This sounded interesting. They drove me out to it and gave me the keys. It was a little way out of town on a small beach with a far off view of the Christiansted harbor. The beach shack was part of a condominium complex and was situated by a lovely pool.
I soon found that I had a special place of my own and the owners of Mile Mark noticed that I was making them money. In fact, I was filling up most of their boats from my location which no one else had ever done. I was selling the higher priced sailing charters which only took 6 passengers. I also booked the expensive fishing charters and put people on their Buck Island Snorkel bus. I called it “The little beach shack that could.” It was a relaxing and easy job. I sat by the pool in my bikini, sold sodas and candy bars, rented snorkel gear, and made good money by just signing people up for their boating trips while they were there. Most everyone who stayed at the condos came to my beach shack and everyone who came to St. Croix went to Buck Island.
The guests enjoyed talking to me and, hearing that I came from Arkansas, were always intrigued and surprised. I was also interested in where they came from and very quickly I was able to distinguish different accents and pick out where people were from. Once a girl from New Jersey looked at me with a snarly lip and asked me were I had come from. When I told her Arkansas she commented that that was like nowhere, like Nebraska, like who ever heard of that? I thought she was incredibly rude and ignorant. She was an exception, however.
Once at the beach shack the pool area filled up with men. They were obviously there on work assignments so I asked what they did. They were nice but reticent. One of them said if they told me what they do they would have to kill me. He didn't say much after that but eventually told me that they had enough fire power in those units to start a war or take over the island. I never knew for sure but I guessed they were either mercenaries or DEA or secret service or something to do with drug traffickers. They seemed to be highly trained, serious, and pensive. They left after two days and I never heard about a war. I wonder if they were looking for the two guys who kept a cigarette boat at the pier in Christiansted?
The cigarette boat was one of those fast, racing type with two large 700hp engines and only enough room for about 4 people. There were rumors that these two guys who ran it were drug runners. No one knew for sure. All we knew was that it wasn't their boat and they were just told to bring it there and wait. One Sunday they invited my roommate, Tina and I to go to Buck Island. That was the day all the locals would go. We hopped in and once we were clear of the harbor wake zone the boat took off and we were going about 75mph in no time. We sat straight back against the deep backed seat and I think I remember our cheeks rippling and our lips flapping a bit. I recall we blew past one of the local sailboats, named The Bandit (they had Yosemite Same painted on the transom), and we yelled at them to get out of the way. They looked like they were sitting still.
I soon found that I had a special place of my own and the owners of Mile Mark noticed that I was making them money. In fact, I was filling up most of their boats from my location which no one else had ever done. I was selling the higher priced sailing charters which only took 6 passengers. I also booked the expensive fishing charters and put people on their Buck Island Snorkel bus. I called it “The little beach shack that could.” It was a relaxing and easy job. I sat by the pool in my bikini, sold sodas and candy bars, rented snorkel gear, and made good money by just signing people up for their boating trips while they were there. Most everyone who stayed at the condos came to my beach shack and everyone who came to St. Croix went to Buck Island.
The guests enjoyed talking to me and, hearing that I came from Arkansas, were always intrigued and surprised. I was also interested in where they came from and very quickly I was able to distinguish different accents and pick out where people were from. Once a girl from New Jersey looked at me with a snarly lip and asked me were I had come from. When I told her Arkansas she commented that that was like nowhere, like Nebraska, like who ever heard of that? I thought she was incredibly rude and ignorant. She was an exception, however.
Once at the beach shack the pool area filled up with men. They were obviously there on work assignments so I asked what they did. They were nice but reticent. One of them said if they told me what they do they would have to kill me. He didn't say much after that but eventually told me that they had enough fire power in those units to start a war or take over the island. I never knew for sure but I guessed they were either mercenaries or DEA or secret service or something to do with drug traffickers. They seemed to be highly trained, serious, and pensive. They left after two days and I never heard about a war. I wonder if they were looking for the two guys who kept a cigarette boat at the pier in Christiansted?
The cigarette boat was one of those fast, racing type with two large 700hp engines and only enough room for about 4 people. There were rumors that these two guys who ran it were drug runners. No one knew for sure. All we knew was that it wasn't their boat and they were just told to bring it there and wait. One Sunday they invited my roommate, Tina and I to go to Buck Island. That was the day all the locals would go. We hopped in and once we were clear of the harbor wake zone the boat took off and we were going about 75mph in no time. We sat straight back against the deep backed seat and I think I remember our cheeks rippling and our lips flapping a bit. I recall we blew past one of the local sailboats, named The Bandit (they had Yosemite Same painted on the transom), and we yelled at them to get out of the way. They looked like they were sitting still.
Most of the sailboats travelling to Buck Island were going upwind so were either tacking back and forth under sail or using their motor to get there and it took about an hour from Christiansted. We made it to Buck Island in about 5 minutes. When we got there someone said, "so what do we have to drink?" No one brought anything so we turned around and went back for the booze. Five minutes there, 10 minutes to shop, 5 minutes back and we still beat the Bandit to the Island. The captain had a sour attitude when he arrived. Humph
I met a lot of nice people while I worked at the beach shack. One family had come for the holidays and invited me to join them for turkey dinner. They had actually brought the turkey and many other food items with them in a cooler on the plane. They knew about the prices on St. Croix. Many people would bring me their groceries when they left rather than leaving them in their condo refrigerator. I ended up with a lot of condiments but often there was an assortment of good food, which I accepted, for it supplemented my income. Food was rather expensive on the island especially compared to Arkansas prices.
Once I started talking with a couple who had been sitting in the same seats on the beach for nearly a week but we had never spoken to one another. I began by telling them they were tan now and could go home, which I said to many of the guests. They had had a great week of doing nothing but sit in those lounge chairs and read books every day of the week. It turned out they were from Little Rock and knew my parents! I enjoyed visiting with them and telling them how rare it was to meet someone there who was from anywhere other than the North East US. They wrote me a nice letter some time later and reported to my parents that I had a nice place to work.
Next door to my beach shack I had two neighbor friends with whom I shared the beach and on slow days we spent hours talking and telling stories. They were brothers from New Jersey who ran a Jet Ski rental business from the beach. Their jet skis were not the wet bike or Seadoo that everyone sees now but the original type that you had to stand up on or stay on your knees. I tried it a time or two. It was not as easy as it looked but it was fun. We had many fun days there just hanging out on the beach. There was a restaurant called the Serendipity next door where we often got our lunch.
I adopted a couple of stray cats that hung out with me at the beach shack. They were there waiting for me every morning. The islanders did not care much for animals. This was true on most of the islands I lived and travelled. They had plenty of them but treated them as dirty and it was rare to ever see them given affectionate family status as we do in the mainland states. Most islands have problems with roaming livestock and the attitude toward animals there was sadly apathetic. St. Croix had serious issues with horses. There were many of them running loose and they were often hit by cars or injured somehow and simply neglected and the people who owned them would never come forward and claim them in these cases. They would only claim an animal if someone tried to steal it, abuse it, or use it without permission. This was true on other islands as well. It was not uncommon to see these poor animals fenced but covered with ticks and injuries, and/or starving either. I recall an activist group but I don’t know how effective they were. I thought about getting involved or getting my own horse since there seemed to be so many available ones but I never got around to it.
I had my bag stolen once by a bunch of local boys who had come to swim in the pool by my beach shack. I should have known better than to leave it unattended. I had decided to go for a swim after work so I left it under the counter of my beach shack after I had locked up the storage unit. They jumped over the counter and took it while I was in the water. They made off with my personal stuff and the day’s receipts. Fortunately, I got it back. The police were called and they knew who the kids were so went right to their homes. They had bought a basketball and a bunch of candy with some of the cash but the rest and travelers checks were returned. I learned a lesson that day.
I had to ask a stinky bum to move away from our beach one day. This guy wore the same green shirt and red pants the entire time I lived on the island and for who knows how long before I got there. He was well known and completely insane. He never wore shoes and was often seen standing in the middle of the road or just standing anywhere for long periods of time. I knew his name at one point because I had asked about him. I think someone said he had been from a decent family but lost his mind. I’m not sure he drank either. He was walking the beach this day but had decided to stop and stand right in front of our beach and upwind of my beach shack. I smelled him before I ever saw him and I had noticed that people were leaving the beach. He smelled so foul he was ruining the air for everyone at the pool too. I bravely approached him and asked him to move on. He spouted a bunch of mumbling nonsense but I told him that he smelled offensively and asked him to please leave and he did. Everyone thought I was so brave and were very thankful. I just did what needed to be done.
Another regular at the beach shack was an islander who would climb the coconut palms and cut fresh branches to make hats for the tourists. I always thought those were so clever and creative. I wanted to learn how myself but never did. They were really nice. He also made other things from the palm leaves as well as carved coconuts that he sold to the tourists. I should have had him make me some to mail back home to keep forever. I should have mailed a lot of things home for keepsakes but didn't. Most of all, I wish I had saved all the postcards. They are the best pictures that I could never have taken myself. I did learn to do that later.
Around this same time I worked briefly at a new restaurant in town and became friends with one of the chefs, David. I was living on Sam's little sailboat with no dingy at that time and David let me become his roommate in his apartment which was not far from my beach shack. I enjoyed my walk each morning down the hill but not long after this I was offered a car. I was making enough money to make payments. I had an island car (rusty but runs), a Honda Accord and it was great! I was mobile and went anywhere on the island I could anytime. More beaches! I could go to the Sundowner bar on the West end and see the sun set. I could go to the East end. And I did.
I also began smoking cigarettes again around this time. I was fed up with being disgusted by all the smokers around me so I decided to join them. It only took me one week to get hooked. I never thought I would smoke again after I had quit when I was 19. I hated it. I certainly never thought I would do it deliberately. It sure was easy and I enjoyed it, again. I got hooked.
I met a lot of nice people while I worked at the beach shack. One family had come for the holidays and invited me to join them for turkey dinner. They had actually brought the turkey and many other food items with them in a cooler on the plane. They knew about the prices on St. Croix. Many people would bring me their groceries when they left rather than leaving them in their condo refrigerator. I ended up with a lot of condiments but often there was an assortment of good food, which I accepted, for it supplemented my income. Food was rather expensive on the island especially compared to Arkansas prices.
Once I started talking with a couple who had been sitting in the same seats on the beach for nearly a week but we had never spoken to one another. I began by telling them they were tan now and could go home, which I said to many of the guests. They had had a great week of doing nothing but sit in those lounge chairs and read books every day of the week. It turned out they were from Little Rock and knew my parents! I enjoyed visiting with them and telling them how rare it was to meet someone there who was from anywhere other than the North East US. They wrote me a nice letter some time later and reported to my parents that I had a nice place to work.
Next door to my beach shack I had two neighbor friends with whom I shared the beach and on slow days we spent hours talking and telling stories. They were brothers from New Jersey who ran a Jet Ski rental business from the beach. Their jet skis were not the wet bike or Seadoo that everyone sees now but the original type that you had to stand up on or stay on your knees. I tried it a time or two. It was not as easy as it looked but it was fun. We had many fun days there just hanging out on the beach. There was a restaurant called the Serendipity next door where we often got our lunch.
I adopted a couple of stray cats that hung out with me at the beach shack. They were there waiting for me every morning. The islanders did not care much for animals. This was true on most of the islands I lived and travelled. They had plenty of them but treated them as dirty and it was rare to ever see them given affectionate family status as we do in the mainland states. Most islands have problems with roaming livestock and the attitude toward animals there was sadly apathetic. St. Croix had serious issues with horses. There were many of them running loose and they were often hit by cars or injured somehow and simply neglected and the people who owned them would never come forward and claim them in these cases. They would only claim an animal if someone tried to steal it, abuse it, or use it without permission. This was true on other islands as well. It was not uncommon to see these poor animals fenced but covered with ticks and injuries, and/or starving either. I recall an activist group but I don’t know how effective they were. I thought about getting involved or getting my own horse since there seemed to be so many available ones but I never got around to it.
I had my bag stolen once by a bunch of local boys who had come to swim in the pool by my beach shack. I should have known better than to leave it unattended. I had decided to go for a swim after work so I left it under the counter of my beach shack after I had locked up the storage unit. They jumped over the counter and took it while I was in the water. They made off with my personal stuff and the day’s receipts. Fortunately, I got it back. The police were called and they knew who the kids were so went right to their homes. They had bought a basketball and a bunch of candy with some of the cash but the rest and travelers checks were returned. I learned a lesson that day.
I had to ask a stinky bum to move away from our beach one day. This guy wore the same green shirt and red pants the entire time I lived on the island and for who knows how long before I got there. He was well known and completely insane. He never wore shoes and was often seen standing in the middle of the road or just standing anywhere for long periods of time. I knew his name at one point because I had asked about him. I think someone said he had been from a decent family but lost his mind. I’m not sure he drank either. He was walking the beach this day but had decided to stop and stand right in front of our beach and upwind of my beach shack. I smelled him before I ever saw him and I had noticed that people were leaving the beach. He smelled so foul he was ruining the air for everyone at the pool too. I bravely approached him and asked him to move on. He spouted a bunch of mumbling nonsense but I told him that he smelled offensively and asked him to please leave and he did. Everyone thought I was so brave and were very thankful. I just did what needed to be done.
Another regular at the beach shack was an islander who would climb the coconut palms and cut fresh branches to make hats for the tourists. I always thought those were so clever and creative. I wanted to learn how myself but never did. They were really nice. He also made other things from the palm leaves as well as carved coconuts that he sold to the tourists. I should have had him make me some to mail back home to keep forever. I should have mailed a lot of things home for keepsakes but didn't. Most of all, I wish I had saved all the postcards. They are the best pictures that I could never have taken myself. I did learn to do that later.
Around this same time I worked briefly at a new restaurant in town and became friends with one of the chefs, David. I was living on Sam's little sailboat with no dingy at that time and David let me become his roommate in his apartment which was not far from my beach shack. I enjoyed my walk each morning down the hill but not long after this I was offered a car. I was making enough money to make payments. I had an island car (rusty but runs), a Honda Accord and it was great! I was mobile and went anywhere on the island I could anytime. More beaches! I could go to the Sundowner bar on the West end and see the sun set. I could go to the East end. And I did.
I also began smoking cigarettes again around this time. I was fed up with being disgusted by all the smokers around me so I decided to join them. It only took me one week to get hooked. I never thought I would smoke again after I had quit when I was 19. I hated it. I certainly never thought I would do it deliberately. It sure was easy and I enjoyed it, again. I got hooked.
There was a resort on the East end of the island that sold time share and they had people stationed at a few places in town who would talk to the tourists and send them out to visit the resort and take a tour. These people who got the tourists to go were called OPCs (outside personal contacts). They got $30 for each couple who took the tour and $50 if they purchased. I wanted to be an OPC from my beach shack so I could double the amount of money I was already making. I asked my employers about this but they did not like the idea and told me it would be a conflict of interest for the condos that hosted the beach shack.
When I visited with the manager of the OPCs I learned that they needed to expand their OPC presence on the island and she offered me the job of procuring those locations and train the new OPCs. I saw this as an opportunity to stop being a beach bum and going to work in a bathing suit and get a real, respectable job. Not that I didn't enjoy being a beach bum anymore but I felt I had been on the island long enough to become a resident and start acting more stable and responsible with my employment and overall behavior. I was ready for a change as well.
I accepted the job and relinquished the keys to my beloved beach shack. I hated to just leave my cats. I asked my replacement to feed them and could only hope that they did. I don't remember how long I had worked there, 4 to 5 months I think. It was a job I have always remembered as being unique and special to my experiences on the islands.
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