WARNING: The following re-telling of "one day in the life of me" includes foul language, read at your own risk!


I invite you to come along a day-long journey with me, a mere 48 hours after arriving in Anguilla, after being gone for 2 months. The sun is shining and the wind is blowing and I am happy as a clam with a big bucket full of plans for the day.

I get the kids up and ready for school and manage to convince Pickles to go with me to drop them off, since she has chicken pox and isn't feeling well.  I think my exact words were "we'll just be a few minutes".

HA!

So we get to school in car #1 and "circle time" has already started which is where the entire school (about 30 people) are in a big circle singing, praying and starting their day out with this ritual.
We're a bit late and show up in the middle of some kids "happy birthday" song and attempt to park the car right outside the fenced in courtyard, about 3 feet from the kid circle.

At that very moment, my tire gets stuck on a piece of concrete on the edge of the road and it blows into bits and pieces in a big loud bang and poof. 
All that is left is a cloud of smoke and an entire school laughing their ass off with circle time having come to a crashing halt.
As circle time is over, the kids are dismissed into their classrooms and everyone chuckles as they walk by me saying "NICE ENTRANCE!"

Great!
Yes, I'm a dork - there, I admit it.
You all just laugh your little hearts out.

But overall, the sun is still shining, the day is not lost, it's just a blown tire after all...

HA!

So I attempt to deal with this situation by putting on the spare tire, except there is none.
SIGH

Alright, plan B, which is to call a friend for help.
Except I didn't bring my cell phone so I can't call anyone.

Great!

On to plan C, which is to go pickup car #2 the nanny left at the airport that morning.
Wonderful, this will work 'cause the key is in the glove box and we'll be home in a few and onto my list of things to do.... So cranky Pickles and I get a ride with a friend to the airport.

SONOFABITCH!
That car has a flat too!

fuck

Another ride to the car parts store leaves me with "sorry, we're out of Fix-A-Flat" and by now Dylan is whiny and thirsty.

Except, I have no money on me 'cause "we're just going to be gone for a few minutes".

Shit!

Thankfully the people of Anguilla are kind and the lady with the food van on the side of the road lets us have a couple of drinks in exchange for a promise to bring the money by some other day.

Ok, we can do this..... back to the airport to see if there's a spare.

BINGO!

But there is no jack.

Fuck!

So we walk from the airport back to the car parts store and buy a jack with my credit card, which I did have on me and thankfully (and miraculously) worked.
Another short  walk back to the airport and I am on my knees (in a flowery dress I threw on that never was meant to be seen in public) jacking up the car.
Thanks to the dress, it was only minutes before some guy in a suit comes over to help out and shortly thereafter, I am off to the tire shop to get the tire fixed.

FINALLY!

But HOLD UP, NOT SO FAST!

The car is also, completely out of gas.

CRAP!

Pickles is annoyed and whining now, I am starting to get frustrated but am unwilling to give up on my good day yet.
So we drive to the bank and we go to an ATM thinking it's the last hurdle I have to jump over in order to get home.

Except none of the ATM's work and my local bank account has a 0 balance, which leaves me without cash.
And nobody on this island takes credit cards at gas stations.

DEEP BREATH

Digging through the deep dark corners of my wallet reveals 3 different currency bank notes - none of which are accepted here in Anguilla.
BUT there is a shiny 50 Euro bill and I am at a bank!

AWESOME!

So we go back in the bank and stand in line.
By now Pickles is about to lose it and has to pee/run/poop/eat/drink and whatever else she can think of to get me to leave and go home. 
After 35 minutes of torturous waiting in the wrong line, I get USD money and we're on our way to the gas station and then the tire shop to wait another 20 minutes to get the tire fixed and put on.



In the absence of money or a cell phone, it took 1.25 hours of waiting in lines, an drink IOU, an hour of walking, a grease covered me and 1.5 hours of jacking with spare tires and ATM's to get ONE of the TWO cars to be functional and to get the sick Pickles home.

Or as my friend so eloquently put it with a big smile on her face:
"Welcome back to Anguilla, Francie"