Four years ago tomorrow someone finally out-did Rocky in the doting department. Too bad I had to travel all the way to Jamaica to find such treatment. The maids, the bartenders, the waiters, the ladies at the spa and the beach boys catered to our every crazy request and the then responded with even more decadent treatment that I could even imagine. Sorry Ritz. The Royal Plantation has you beat.
When I imagined our Carribbean honeymoon, my dream destination had to include a balcony. It was the ideal place for a room service delivery of chocolate pancakes overlooking the ocean. Luckily after a really-not-so annoying and very, very minor water leak, we were upgraded to the Prime Minister's Suite, which had TWO balconies - meaning TWICE the pancakes!
Everyday we relaxed on the beach noshing on the local favorites from the beachside grill and enjoying many, many tropical drinks. On the whole, we likely consumed our daily calorie intake in dirty bananas or classic rum punches.
To place our order, adjust our chair or raise or lower our umbrella, all we had to do was wave our little flag. Too bad we couldn't wave a little flag to have them reposition my floppy hat or whisper in my ear that my skimpy bikini was a little too skimpy to be photographed. There may have been a few outfit malfunctions. Rocky, however, never alerted me of these issues. So much for his doting.
At 10:00 every day, the beach boys came around and sprayed the guests with rosewater and placed cucumbers on our eyes. They simply wouldn't allow us to put the cucumbers on our own eyes. How gauche. All and all, it was by far our most decadent trip ever. A trip that we will always remember. Now, the doting is still there, but not to that level. Rocky simply does not seem to respond when I wave that blue flag.
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