Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Yes, I know. Pathetic.
But that's the way I'm put together.
When I was twelve, I woke up early one morning and realized I detested the furniture in
my bedroom and couldn't stand it another minute. While my parents snoozed downstairs, I
found a bucket of white paint and whitewashed everything in the room.
Horrified at first, my mother later admitted that it was an improvement.
I've been on a roll ever since.
☼ ☼ ☼
The next morning found me staring glassy-eyed at the relatively empty living space down-
stairs.
If I'd been the dramatic type I would've wailed and torn my hair. Instead, I whimpered
and ate some Cheerios.
Around ten o'clock Michael loaded me into the car and drove me into Isabel, where he
strong-armed me into the one and only furniture store on the island, a retail establishment
whose garish wares made those we'd strolled past with such disdain the day before seem
like masterpieces of restraint.
I considered grumbling but decided against it—Michael can be formidable when he's
worried about me or when he's just sick of hearing me complain.
The selection, as expected, was appalling: Louis XV-style living room suites in carved
wood with embroidered upholstery (who would defile his tropical getaway with such
ornate stuffiness?), Early American-style side tables with quaintly turned legs, and, in-
triguingly, a half-keg coffee table that had obviously been designed to grace the rec room
of a Milwaukee tract house but had somehow migrated south to the Caribbean.
The proprietor rushed over excitedly to greet us. “You find what you need?”
“Hmm…” I began disingenuously, not wanting to hurt the guy's feelings despite his
stunningly bad taste.
“Not so much,” Michael interjected. “Is this everything you have?”
The man's face lit up, then fell.
“Ah, we have some very plain things upstairs. But nothing you would like.”
Plain things. That's exactly what we would like. “Could we see?”
He led the way through a back door and up an external staircase, apologizing all the
while for exposing us to the unworthy trash we were about to encounter.
The unworthy trash, of course, was exactly what we were looking for.
The first thing we saw when we walked into the dusty, shadowy space was a dark-
stained rattan two-seater sofa with off-white cushions. Nearby were two matching easy
chairs and a coffee table.
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