“Beautiful blue water. Make sure you get on a boat - that’s the only way to really see the islands. I’ll send some recommendations.”

I’m not usually talking to other humans at five in the morning, but Birmingham is a small city and of course our friend Bill also happens to be in step with Allison as we walk through Shuttlesworth Airport. By our luck, he’s been to Turks & Caicos plenty of times. He obligingly provides a thoughtful summary on our destination before peeling off to get a chicken biscuit.

We were going to save our hunger for Atlanta-Hartsfield, as my professional traveler wife was already scouting lounge options for our layover. My duty, after a brief husband-wife debrief on Bill’s suggestions, was to find a boat on short notice. After responding a little too-quickly to my early morning email, the island tour operator drowsily took down my payment information before signing off with “and take it easy on the rum punch, my man.”

Landing in a new country is always sensory overload. The smells, sounds, weather, and notably - what kind of cars are scuttling about. Turks & Caicos is a “British Overseas Territory '' which means the locals drive on the wrong side of the road (with a wide array of right and left-hand drive saltboxes) and everyone speaks English. American Dollars are curiously the currency of choice, they just don’t make it easy to get more of them.

When I hear the term resort, my imagined scale always goes to americanized proportions - endless buffets, mini golf, theme nights and pools with an ABV. The options on Providenciales (our specific island) are much more measured. We stayed at the Wymara, which had two respectable restaurants, a lovely pool and perfect beach setup on Grace Bay.

If you are going to order a frosty beverage in a far away place, I think it best to have what the locals are having. In Turks & Caicos, the easy-drinking ubiquitous beer is called I-Soon-Reach from Turks Head Brewing. Admittedly odd for a beverage name, the explanation is a healthy expectation setter. It’s the regional equivalent of when my buddy Fritz says he’s getting off at your exit but he really just left his house. If he were living on island time, he would simply say “I soon reach” and all sins would be forgiven. Things happen when they happen. No need to rush it.

We learned our lesson soon enough and settled into a pair of well appointed beach chairs. Historically, I don’t know what to do with myself once I am firmly planted in the sand, or anywhere really. A book by a lady who makes a sweater from scratch (step one involved her shearing the sheep) did hold my interest for a bit. Eventually, we waded out into the super clear water and struck up various conversations with our fellow vacation enthusiasts.

When you share a small resort with other people, it is inevitable that you will see them many times throughout your stay, starting every day at the same breakfast buffet. This was my exact thought as I returned from a sweaty, disorienting trip to the local grocery store. Though I still came out good in the long run (resort beers were $9 each), I somehow dropped $60 cash on cab fare for a 4-mile round trip and made some interesting purchases in a rush to beat the meter. My impulsive cheese grab was all for naught, however, as the checkout process was more of a social affair than a business practice. By sheer determination, I carried my haul to the register, but somehow needed a cart to get it to the cab. And this is how I ended up being “that sweaty guy,” lugging his torn bags one by one past all who were lounging their afternoon away in the pool.

At dinner, it became apparent that any fuss made over a week’s worth of reservations was superfluous. The eighty degree temperatures were absolutely tolerable for us, but those not from Alabama must think it unbearably hot this time of year in Turks & Caicos. What we didn’t escape by going south, however, were the bugs. Allison understandably wanted to finish off the night on our first floor patio, but that ended quickly when some devil creature stung her right on the face. Being the gentleman that I am, I sacrificed my cocktail ice to help alleviate the swelling.

Our couples massage the next morning was very relaxing. The lady assigned to me had more real estate to cover, but was still gentle enough not to disturb the breakfast buffet that was working its way through my system. Being our trip planner, I had opted for the more cost-effective 50 minute option. When we saw the final bill, however, our eyes met and there was a faintly audible gasp. It was in this pivotal moment, that Allison, household money manager, took the lead on setting our new strategy for the remainder of our trip. “You know what? Screw it. We enjoyed this. We’re on vacation. This is what it costs, so screw it.” We clinked our paper cups of cucumber water and scheduled a pedicure for later in the week.

With a $16 mimosa in hand, I struck up a conversation with an older couple who were stationed next to us on the beach. Cathy was 76 and reading the first Harry Potter book to get in on the action with her grandchildren. She met her husband, Dwayne, in Barbados while they both served in the Peace Corps. Much had changed since that time, including kids, grandkids and a recent Alzheimer's diagnosis for Dwayne, but you could see that they still felt at home in the Caribbean. At one point, Cathy giggled as she walked past us soaking wet and proclaiming to be the oldest person to ever try extreme tubing at our resort.

Day three was the highly anticipated boat trip. There were private charters available, but we decided that was a bit ridiculous for two people. We instead opted for an all-day group trip on a catamaran that was loaded down with a little water, a lot of rum punch, and enough I-Soon-Reach’s to drown a small army. We’re not going deep on Chapman family boat history here, but let’s just say our chance of yacking is right on fifty percent when aboard large vessels. To help our chances, we set up camp on the top level chez lounges which (important note) were fully exposed to the sun.

Once all passengers were rounded up from their various resorts, we dropped anchor and were handed snorkeling gear. We Chapmans are not frequent snorkelers, but I think we would be if our regular options were anything like this reef. After exploring for a bit and poking Allison at opportune moments, I was content to float, meditatively taking in the vibrant scenery until it was time to depart.

Our next stop was a beautiful island that was uninhabited save some iguanas. We trekked around, enjoying the scenery immensely - to the point where we almost got left. Alone being fresh in our minds, Allison and I got caught up planning how we would survive if we were left, but our fantasy nearly became real. As an apology to our crew, I hand delivered I-Soon-Reach’s to all who had thirst.

The crew navigated us to their regular beach barbeque spot where we were instructed to occupy ourselves until lunch. This is when things kicked into high gear. I talked philosophy with a lady smoking black & milds while we sat waist deep. Allison befriended a few children and a single twenty something girl who was traveling solo. People took turns reboarding the catamaran to grab refreshment and toss them to those wading below. The larger conversation veered into politics for a smidge but everyone agreed that regardless of party affiliation, Americans should calm down a bit and find more middleground.

I know we were there for the scenery, but this amalgamation of different people all having a great time was something I frankly haven’t been part of since before COVID. Once the lunch bell rang, we crammed into weathered picnic tables. The standard plate handed to everyone set off a modest frenzy of trades, so the diners with particular tastes and the most hungry all ended up with a lunch to their liking. My highlight of the meal was when all the married folks went around the table giving advice to a brand new couple who met while working at the rodeo. These giddy newlyweds heard sage wisdom from forty-something lesbians, Marylanders in American flag apparel, a late in life second marriage, and us.

Another vessel appeared on the horizon and interrupted our spirited conversation. A shiny white private charter announced itself with club music and enthusiastic dancers spilling champagne all over the place. It was like an episode of The Real Housewives. These older ladies and their fashionable male friends onboard had obviously approached the day a bit differently than we and there was a collective eye roll from our group as the scene was taken in. Eventually, however, everyone came around to the idea that this could easily be them on a different day with the right group of friends.

Our penultimate stop was a collection of sandbars well offshore that were nothing short of breathtaking. I found a live conch, moved it closer to the swimming children, then skipped from mini island to mini island like a fancy man of the world. We made one last stop for a second round of snorkeling, this time using more creative ways to exit the boat with a thrill. Then, finally, everyone was dropped off at their respective resorts - forced to come to terms with their blood alcohol levels and some weird sunburns. Allison (who may or may not have said “Screw it!” when reapplying sunscreen on her still wet self) was the color of a Washington apple. For my sins, I felt like I was sitting under a heat lamp. For the record, I didn’t touch the rum punch.

With our torsos safely covered, Allison and I enjoyed the final days of our trip with a new perspective. We attended a morning yoga session with some twin sister moms and struck up such a friendship that I handed over my recently-finished sweater book. By our final evening, we were content to hang out in the pool and enjoy the sunset instead of rushing off to another $300 dinner. Remaining bottles were smuggled out to the pool to share with a fun group from Mississipii. To wind down the evening, we opened everything we couldn’t take with us and attempted to take down a meat and cheese assortment for the ages.

I really expected to come back from Turks & Caicos with a full review of what to do, eat and experience. The blue water and our boat day were amazing (thanks, Bill!) but I came away thinking more about the wonderful people we met.