The holiday hustle and bustle can certainly get to all of us, and so the question is, how do you choose to handle it? You can vent, you can hibernate, or in the case of dear Old St. Nick, you can go parasailing!
One post-Christmas season found us on the island of St. Martin, and enjoying our favorite beach of Orient Baie. Now for some of you a brief description of Orient Beach in general, and of Club Orient specifically, is mandatory at this point. As a concept I find it a bit unique, perhaps due to my Bible belt roots, but Club O, as it is affectionately referred to, is a naturist resort. While I understand the European influences of most Caribbean destinations, and therefore the laissez faire attitude towards at least partial nudity, there is a very noticeable American lilt towards the patrons of Club O. Not unlike kids on Spring Break, some seem almost giddy about their textile freedom. Without passing judgment, we do find its patrons friendly, engaging, and at times one can find humor in the scenes of this resort at the far southern end of Orient Beach.
One day while at the adjacent Pedro’s enjoying fries and a cold drink, we noticed an older couple walk by at surfs edge. This would likely passed unnoticed, were it not for the undeniable likeness this rotund figure, in his white beard and hair, bore of the infamous Santa Clause. As they passed before us heading from Club Orient to the watersports desk, and yes they were clothed, everyone took notice of the striking likenesses. We lost track of them, paying no further attention, until ultimately we see them headed for the jet ski that would eventually take them out to the waiting parasail boat.
Now the events that followed were truly comedy on the high seas. The first challenge was in trying to get these two Blacksocks at the edge of the surf, in waist deep water, aboard the bobbing jet ski. The sight of these two ‘generous’ figures, attempting to board, was soon to be outdone by the site of the two of them trying to board the boat from said jet ski. I now have new found respect for whalers of old, and of the effort it must have taken to hoist their lifeless catch upon deck from over the ships rails. After much wrestling around, and I suspect more than a word or two of exasperation, Mr. Clause was finally aboard in a heaving mass. Then came the real slapstick humor. Mrs. Clause was not quite so nimble, if it fair at all to use that term with Mr. Clause. The two men in the jet ski were trying to find just the proper place to position their hands so they could shove her from beneath, while those aboard were finding equal futility in their efforts to try to pull her aboard.
Finally they succeeded, and she flopped aboard lifelessly lying at the bottom of the hull, clearly without adequate energy to even stand, let alone strap on a parasail harness. Finally she gathered enough strength to stand, and I, like everyone else who had watched this comical play take place, eventually lost interest in the scene. Then the the final chapter was revealed.
Having finished our mid-day snack, we had left our places at Pedro’s and decided to head back northward to our waiting chairs. As we walked along side some of the “rental” chairs along The Pirate Bar, we noticed everyone began scurrying furiously reaching for their cameras, all the while laughing quite gregariously and pointing skyward. We looked in the general direction of their attention and discovered that both Mr. and Mrs. Clause had completely disrobed and were parasailing in the great outdoors in all that the good Lord had given them.
It was quite a sight to behold, and one I’m sure would scare both the little kiddies and the elves alike. While some may feel parasailing is the most fun you can have with your clothes on, for these two, it apparently was too much fun for their clothing. And so we ask as Christmas day approaches, how will you unwind after the excitement dies down?
Live the Life,