I woke up the morning after the robbery with all four of my limbs in pins and needles. Maybe I was so shocked my blood slowed down? I’m not sure, but it was very odd. Connie was right beside me, still wide awake. Jenny was downstairs starfished on the back patio having a coffee and smoking a cigarette in the sun. We called our local pal Delroy and told him the story. He was floored and kindly arranged a driver to take us to the Canadian Consulate. Our driver’s name was Maurice, and he was an angel. He drove us to the back parking lot of a run down strip mall where a tattered Canadian flag hung askew from the second story of shops. Pretty ghetto right off the bat.
There were two dumpy Canadian women working at the consulate where they enjoy the casual working hours of 9am to noon, Monday to Friday. We were there to get Connie a passport. She had piggybacked a work trip on a cruise ship out of Fort Lauderdale directly from Nassau. The consulate woman offered Connie one option; she could issue Connie a one way pass back to Montreal and she could get a new passport there. We were unimpressed and thought there must be another option. Connie decided to give the High Commissioner in Kingston, Jamaica (the closest Canadian Embassy) a call and sure enough, there was another option. They could issue Connie a one year passport and get it to her in time for her departure to Florida in five days. Brilliant! No thanks to the consulate lady. It was nearing noon and the consulate lady played sorry to tell us the closest and cheapest passport photo spot was a twenty minute drive away and $50USD. She sent us on our way telling us to come by with the photos tomorrow morning, but then we may not make the DHL boat to Jamaica with the documents in time. As Connie was filling out her paperwork, I went outside with Jenny and Maurice for some fresh air. We gazed across the street and there was a sign “Roger D. Photo Studio, Passport Photos Done While You Wait $20!” I ran to get Connie as it seemed our luck was changing. The consulate women agreed to wait twenty minutes so we wouldn’t have to hitchhike back to the consulate in the morning and we went over to Roger D’s Photo Studio.
Now Roger D. turned out to be the best photographer in the Bahamas, if the many accolades hanging on his wall account for anything. His studio is full of his gorgeous wedding photos and impressive antique cameras. He said, “Welcome home!” warmly when we entered. He told us to wait just a moment while he readied his studio for Connie’s passport shoot. He fired up his lighting set-up and put on a Billie Holiday record. The mood was romantic and sweet. He had Connie giving all kinds of looks until he was completely spent, at which point Jenny and I burst into a standing ovation. Roger D., our hero!
We waltzed back to the consulate with the coveted passport photos. The ladies were super annoyed now to be working past noon, but we had them, thank goodness. As we were waiting for all the paperwork to be done, I perused the pamphlets section of the office and came across a stack of Roger D. business cards. The swines! They were willing to send us on a wild goose chase after surviving an armed robbery because they needed to get home to watch their kids’ swimming lessons or some shit! I was pissed. But we still needed these lazy slags so I suppressed my anger. In yet another misstep, they sent us to the DHL office to ship the documents to Jamaica after charging Connie close to $500USD for a new passport and a lost passport fee. Rude! What if we had no access to money? What if we didn’t have Maurice’s help and couldn’t get around?
Anyway, we went to DHL and shipped off the documents. Maurice drove us there and then took us home. We were so grateful for his help. We still needed to get some cash, a Blackberry phone charger, and Connie’s medicine. So we set out on foot to The Caves, a shopping centre down the street. We took some photos on the walk in an effort at normalcy. Since Jenny was the only one of us with access to money she agreed to be our sugar momma for the trip and we promised to pay her back upon our return home, bless her heart. We managed to get cash out of the liquor store ATM, but no luck on the charger or perscription. We called a cab from the liquor store and spent the next hour and a half visiting all the pharmacies on the island to no avail. We got a charger though. In the end it was a $70 cab ride. Ouch!
Back at the house again, the sun was setting and we proceeded to get drunk. We closed up the first floor of the house, storm shutters and all, which was now a necessity, and hung out on the second floor balcony, which had a great view of the street in front of the house and the ocean beyond that. We felt good up there from our vantage point, until a car cruised by us slowly and pulled into the neighbours driveway. I got spooked and we ran inside and locked up the whole house. Like three Rapunzels we drank the night away trying our best to laugh about it all. Just as we were going to bed I noticed police lights across the street. I planned to call the cops about it in the morning. We were exhausted…