Instead of going home this Thanksgiving Break, my teammates and I went to the Virgin Islands. I know, I know - you're rolling your eyes imagining how that can't be worse than dry turkey and questionably soggy stuffing with Gran Gran and the clan? Well, for starters, we were heading there for a basketball tournament, not a relaxing vacation. Of the five-day trip, one involved travel, three involved games and the last included a practice.
Regardless, the 14 of us were discussing the hours of sun we would be getting, the cerulean oceans and the island breezes as we traveled on Tuesday. From the two-hour drive to Dulles International Airport: "I hope we stay close to the beach." To the three-hour flight to Puerto Rico: "I wonder if there will be coconuts. Like a lot of coconuts. Like even the pancakes are coconut-flavored amounts of coconuts." The final 20-minute flight to St. Thomas: "Is that it?!" "No that's still Puerto Rico." "Is that it?!" "No, that's a really big rock."
After agonizing hours of travel, we landed on St. Thomas. The island was everything you can find on Google Images - hills covered in foliage and oceans the same color as the surrounding sky. Our hotel was near the water, and just carrying my bags to my room left me yearning for ocean water. Our first day, we had a scant 30 minutes between dinner and our arrival. My team took advantage of this by stripping to our sports bras and spandex and diving into the ocean for 15 minutes during which the majority of us got more sand in our toes than sun on our skins.
We went on a snorkeling excursion the next morning after practice. Being terrified of deep water, I nearly hyperventilated when donning my mask, but needless to say, I made it out alive. I even saw a turtle. That would be our first and last taste of what it was like to vacation in the Virgin Islands. After the ride back from the reef, the first thing our coach said was, "From this point on, we are in game mode. No swimming. No thinking of swimming. Don't even dream of water." The last part may be a slight exaggeration, but you get the idea.
After our first game, which did not go well - let's leave it at that - walking back to my room was torture. Not only was I coping with a loss, but also the beating of the waves on the sand sounded so comforting to me. "Simone, come to us. We love you. We are gentle and soothing. We will take your pain away." Again, perhaps, a slight exaggeration, but you understand me. Watching my teammates look longingly at the water from their balconies, I resigned myself to my bed and waited for dinner.
The second day was relatively similar - not a great game and no beach. The third and very last day we spent in the Virgin Islands, however, resulted in victory. We arrived back at the hotel at 5 p.m. determined to cram a week of vacationing into 12 hours.
We stopped at the beach, where having freshly done my hair, I refused to submerge myself any deeper than my kneecaps. Fail. A desperate attempt to head downtown was cut short with the front desk woman asking, "You want a taxi for what? Everything downtown is closed. Everything."
Around 8 p.m., we gave up. We resigned ourselves to playing cards in our rooms, and as we listened to the waves crash on the sand, we could only imagine crunching underneath our feet. We awoke again at 5 a.m. and said goodbye to the Virgin Islands in the dark. A last glance at the water filled me with melancholy and the thoughts of missed profile picture opportunities. It had been a fun trip with some of my favorite people, but far from a vacation.
But don't tell my mother because I probably would pass up her turkey to do it again - vacation time or not.
Simone's column runs biweekly Thursdays. She can be reached at s.egwu@cavalierdaily.com.
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