April 30th, 1989

April 30th, 1989

Flight from BDA – TPA – BDA

Princess Hotel, Hamilton, Bermuda

Sunday night in Bermuda has proved to be a lot of fun. Actually, we’re already four hours into Monday, which means I probably should be asleep.

Spent this morning by the pool enjoying some lush sun, before getting ready for the shuttle to Tampa. Flight was easy and the passengers were mostly pleasant. I rang Miriam from the terminal in Tampa but only the answering machine picked up. I left a brief message then rang Liza but nobody picked up there either, so I left her a message too.

It was after eleven tonight when the crew bus pulled up outside the beautiful pink Princess hotel. It had already been decided that at least a dozen of us wanted to go out, so after a quick shower and change of clothes, I was back in the lobby to meet the majority of what is definitely a fun crew.

The air felt so refreshing as we walked the short walk into town and I expected most places be quiet, given the hour but that was not the case. We started off at one end of the street with the intention of hitting every bar but we only made it as far as the third one.

Alison and Patty (two lovely girls from Manchester) were beside themselves when the karaoke started up. By that point I’d had more than enough to drink and I made the mistake of telling Alison I’d never dared to sing karaoke before.

“Never?” she asked.

I nodded my head no.

“Let’s request something we can sing together,” she slurred.

“Oh no. I have no desire to get up and sing.”

“Come on,” she said, slapping my leg. “It’ll be a laugh.”

“No thanks.”

Alison slowly eased her way out of the very comfy couch that was swallowing us (I refuse to believe there’s any correlation between the amount of rum we’d consumed and our posture!) Her glassy eyes stared down at me as she smoothed down her sundress, then rolled her eyes and tripped when she turned to walk away. I cracked up laughing and sank even deeper into the cushion. I felt my eyes closing so I tilted my head back and thought it was probably time I stopped drinking.

A second (or minute?) later my eyes darted open when I heard, “Is that seat available?”

I was about to say, “no,” but the guy was already beside me, not really sitting, more like slumped.

“Man,” he drawled, “this thing is plush.”

“Be careful,” I said, “it’ll eat you alive.”

As soon as the words were out I felt foolish and said, “Sorry, that came out wrong. You startled me there, what I meant to say was…”

“Wow,” he said, staring at me from only six inches away. “Where’s your accent from?”

I stared back at him and thought, “shit, he has eyes like Ben.”

“Tennessee,” I said, trying to keep a straight face.

He smiled. “Well then I guess I’m from, uh, I can’t think of any place.”

We started laughing and he held out his hand (what is it with the Americans and shaking hands?)

“I’m Travis.”

I shook his hand. “Hello Travis, I’m Karen.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Karen.”

Alison returned, with a drink in each hand. She had a look of surprise on her face as she passed one of the drinks to me, just as the British DJ announced, “Next up, we have a couple of British Airways girls. Come on up, Karen and Alison.”

I looked up at Alison and gave her the evil eye. “I am not going up there,” I stated.

“Yes you are,” she said, tugging at my arm. “Come on.”

She pulled me up off the couch and I turned to Travis. In a tone I can only describe as flirty, I said, “Come with us Travis.”

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Shoor,” Alison said, clearly failing to mimic his accent.

Travis took my outstretched hand but he was able to get up without any help from me.

“What did you request Alison?” I hissed as we made our way to the stage.

“I don’t remember,” she giggled.

The rest of our crew was already standing at the front of the stage, cheering and clapping. Travis climbed up on the stage first and I felt my face redden when I took his hand and he pulled me up. He stood between us and whispered, “I’ve never done this before.”

“Nor have I,” I breathed back.

As soon as the music started, I recognized one of my dad’s favourite songs and felt relieved that I knew the lyrics.

The three of us started swaying in time to the piano intro and sang loudly into the microphones.

“Why do you build me up, buttercup baby, just to let me down and mess me around…”

By the end of the first verse, we had a dance routine down and I have to say, I’m rather partial to a guy who knows how to dance.

“So build me up buttercup, don’t break my heart…”


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