Moving on...

It started out very simple. I saw photos like this one above on social media. My friend moved to St. Thomas and posted beautiful images of the turquoise Caribbean, it looked like a dream. I messaged him and asked, “should I move there? Is it easy to find a restaurant job?” I have, at this point been bartending for 16 years. He assured me that I would love it. He was planning on moving to the better, more beautiful island, St. John, where I could be his roommate.

I booked the flight. I honestly drunkenly booked my flight one night after working a busy shift at the Lincoln Park bar I was working at at that time. I was living in my friends basement to save money. Also, let’s be real, I had been evicted from my apartment illegally (although I hadn’t paid rent in 7 months), my landlord didn’t take the steps they are legally suppose to take (90 day warning, etc). The bar I had been working at closed without warning two weeks before I was suppose to go on a 14 day trip starting in Seattle, where I was shooting one of my old co-worker/friends wedding (whom are now separated). I couldn’t bail as a wedding photographer two weeks before the wedding, so I went on the trip, came home broke, immediateAly had a new job a day after I got back, but it was already a week before I had to pay rent again, but didn’t have it. My closest friend whom was crashing on my sofa at that time was suppose to have rent for me (she had been staying with me for two months rent free) She didn’t have any money for me (or just didn’t want to give me any, I’ll never know) and ended up ghosting on me and hence the imminent eviction. I trust everyone to a fault. It gets me in so much trouble. Yet, I continue to trust everyone just the same. Stupidity or naivety? Or optimism? I haven’t decided.

So I ended up in my friends basement. Defeated. Until I booked my one way flight to St. Thomas. I purposely had a 20 hour layover in Puerto Rico. Why not? I had no hotel booked there, I was just going to wing it. Here is where I blindly trust AGAIN! I woke up just before the flight landed in San Juan, the older Puerto Rican woman sitting next to me was praying, we hit turbulence at the very end of our flight. I woke up, a little hungover and decided to hunt down a flight attendant for some tequila. I was in the very last row, right by the flight attendants. I ordered a tequila soda and the attractive young man apologetically told me they don’t have tequila. I gave in and order two rum and cokes. That would do the trick. I tipped well and went back to my seat. I energetically conversed with my companion about Puerto Rico and explained I needed somewhere to stay and she told me to just go to the casinos in old Sam Juan, they are open all night, she’s stayed there before and that way I wouldn’t have to pay for a hotel. I fastened my seatbelt for landing. As we were about to deboard the flight attendant slips me a folded up note. I had never been slipped a note in such a sly manner. It had a smooth drug deal feel. It reminded me of when my coke dealer of years past would pass me the drugs over the bar as I was bartending. Impressive. It said, “I overheard you have nowhere to stay. You can stay at my hotel. I have a nice room for tonight. No funny business. Just text me, Juan.” I text him and he met me outside the hotel with my big ass suitcase. He immediately started talking about dinner plans and that he was a nice guy who was from Puerto Rico, but lives in New York. We got to the room and he pulled out a Nikon camera. He claimed he did photography on the side and had to go to a photo shoot. In retrospect, I think he may have been involved in human trafficking. I was a dumbass. Trusting again.

Later that night we went out to dinner, I called my mom at dinner and told her I was staying with the flight attendant “Juan” and if I was killed he was the flight attendant on my flight that she had all the information from...the next morning I made it to my flight (he did take photos of me drunkenly posing on our balcony at Hotel Condado that night). I lived! I think my phone call saved me from being killed, we will never know the truth. Weeks later he emailed me the photos he had taken with a cryptic message about his girlfriend and that she might contact me in the future because she saw the photos. Weird. It’s not like I was naked.

I have so much to tell, this is just the first part...to be continued