A Night to Remember, Forget?

The day of sailing done we thought a team dinner in St. John would be a good idea. We packed up our goods and rushed to catch the 5pm ferry. The plan was to have dinner and meet Kristopher and Dane’s host family after dinner and hand them off, then the rest of us (cw, th, rs, and qw) would head back to St. Thomas and get to bed early. Good plan. Good dinner (Marvin’s Mango if you ever get a chance, virgin pina coladas are good). However, our host went MIA and after dinner Quinn started feeling a little nauseous. First priority was getting Kristopher and Dane to their home for the night so we elected to put them in a taxi with the odd chance they’d be able to navigate the driver to the right house. With that done we attempted to make the 7pm ferry. We couldn’t leave the island until we heard from the boys so the clock was ticking. Tracy gave the taxi driver a healthy tip to deliver them safely and quickly. The 7pm ferry sailed and 5 minutes later Dane gave us a ring. “We made it.” So now we had an hour to kill. Quinn’s belly didn’t feel great and he was none to happy about being sick again. By the time 8pm rolled around Quinn was a little bit itchy, a little sleepy, but looking forward to getting to St. Thomas. It’s dark now, that’s important because Tracy only had her prescription sunglasses with her so Romain was walking her around like a blind lady. 8:15pm, the ferry is cruising home, Romain is mellow and enjoying the trip. The remaining Wilson’s were stressed, but we were soon to be at the dock in St. Thomas, but no wait, the ferry is turning around and oddly seems to be headed back out the harbor. Then, bam, a huge ruckus breaks out below decks and on the upper deck where we were sitting. Apparently somebody was getting unruly and the captain decided they needed to go back to St. John, but some of the locals (passengers) were not going to have any of that. They wanted this @#$% boat to dock, and now. The argument was intense and definitely woke Quinn up. One of those situations where your mind quickly debates the options at hand: hiding, fighting or jumping over the side and swimming for shore. As the boat heads back out of the harbor we then turn North and slow. We now have no idea what is going on and because the captain is so deeply immersed in his confrontation with the passengers the boat is really sort of idling in no direction whatsoever. Then the whole conflict rises to a new height initiated by the mother and father of a young family. They completely loose it and come close to fist to cuff with the captain. The nice couple sitting behind us from North Carolina ask us where we are going and I’m asking the local lady sitting in front of us what’s happening. We’re all confused. Bit frightened. And with Quinn getting more and more itchy, the whole situation is surreal. Then by divine providence the captain decides he’s parking this tub and within 5 minutes we’re against the dock. The argument never really dissipates as we quickly disembark and head for our car. Glad to be out of the weeds, we’re anything but out of the woods. Back in our apartment Quinn strips and jumps in the shower to get a good look at his skin. He’s red. Like a lobster. Tracy’s eyes light up. I’m of course in denial. Quinn walks out of the bathroom and Romain, not really knowing in detail what to look for says, “Wow, you’re really red.” That’s it. Find the hospital. We dash upstairs and grab our hosts, get on the phone with the emergency room and head out. Chris (our host) rides along with us to give directions as his wife connects us on the phone to the emergency room. Quinn downs 37.5 mg’s of Benadryl and twenty minutes later we’re in the hospital. All is well. 12:30am we’re back home, Quinn’s got a liter of sea water (saline) in him and all is back to normal. Good trip, eh.