The Fish Tale

Before I left for Saint Lucia I lived within a five square mile radius. Why? Because I get lost. I got lost in a parking lot once. I have no clue how it happened. My friend, Linda was with me. I looked at her and said, “Where am I?” The look on her face was strange. I knew at that moment that I should have found a more discreet way to get out of that situation.

Another time I got lost driving in a park. For the life of me, I could not find the exit. I just kept driving by the same picnic over and over again. It was reminiscent of the Chevy Chase scene in European Vacation, “Look kids, Big Ben – Parliament”. Even if I had found the exit, I had no clear plan as to how I would find the freeway to get home. The park was outside my five square mile radius.

The problem is that people don’t understand. Sometimes they think I’m playing dumb. I assure you; I am not. This is a “condition”. My mother had it. It must be inherited. It might be DNA. Someone said it’s a brain disorder. I’ve heard it referred to as a disability. I accept that. I fit the perfect profile target audience for GPS.

Today, I went on a hunt. It was a hide and seek game. What was hiding? The doctor’s office. It’s time for our mid-service physical examinations. Peace Corps staff set up the appointments and gave us dates, times and phone numbers...but no address; largely because there are no addresses in Saint Lucia. I’m on my own to find it. How can I find the doctor’s office when the only thing I clearly understand is that it is in Castries? This makes me crazy. I still panic, but not nearly as much as I did when I first arrived.

In the end, I got two sets of directions. Go to Monroe College. Check! I know how to get there. One person said, “turn right”. Another said, “turn left”. And these are my friends! Sometimes I think they just like to have fun with me. I was looking for a pink or peach house with a little sign on it that said “Doctor’s Office”. Surprisingly, I found it right away. I only had to ask one person for directions. She happened to be a teacher who was teaching a class which I interrupted. She was very patient while telling me how to get there. She must be a good teacher.

I sat in the waiting room until it was my turn. The woman at the desk said, “You can go in now”. She points to a closed door. I walk over and open the door. There is a desk and an examination table, a scale and curtains. A woman was sitting at the desk. She smiled and I sat down. I wasn’t sure who she was. After a few seconds I realized she is the doctor. How refreshing; the doctor is waiting for me!

She said she needed a urine sample - stop reading if this stuff grosses you out. Jay, this definitely means you. I thought twice about whether I should publish this story, but I liked it and decided to share it. After all, it may be personal, but come on – we’ve all given a urine sample at some time in our lives. Right? And, I’m sure you want to know how giving a sample in Saint Lucia is different from giving a sample in Los Angeles. Don’t you? Be honest.

Anyway, now that I’ve clearly stated the disclaimer and lost half my readers I can move on.

When the doctor was finished it was time for my next game. The hunt was on again! You guessed it. I have yet one more opportunity to play hide and seek. I must now hunt for the lab. The doctor tells me it is in Castries and then she begins explaining something about two bridges and rivers; she talks about streets and building colors. I am clearly bored with all these directions and understand almost none of it.

When she mentions the fire department, I perk up and say, “Oh yes, I know exactly where that is”. But then she tells me it’s not on that street. I’m not sure why the fire department even came up in the conversation. Maybe my friends put her up to this. Or, it could be she was just having such a good time talking about it. I nod my head like I am hanging on to each and every meticulous detail. In reality, Elaine is meeting me here and I hope she can find it for me.

With little trouble and because Elaine had been there before, we found the lab right away. It is a good thing I am with her because based on what I heard the doctor say, I’m not sure I would have been on the right island once I got done with the doctor’s directions.

Once inside the lab, I wait an obnoxiously long time for someone to come to the counter. Elaine and I can hear her behind the wall talking to someone about every detail of her weekend. There are young men sitting on the sofas and none is even remotely considering giving up his seat. Finally a woman enters, takes my paper and says, "Wait here". Another few minutes ramble by and she comes out with a fishing tackle box and says “follow me”.

Are we are going fishing? I think about all the times I got up before dawn and went fishing with my dad. Those were nice trips. We would take a speed boat to the barge which was covered in fish scales and smelled. It was barely light outside when we arrived. All the men had floppy hats decorated with lures and they would stand back as their poles were resting on the rails in holders. Some more serious fishermen fished with two poles. Seagulls swarmed the barge hoping for a tasty morsel. I didn’t do a lot of fishing. I spent more time playing with the live bait in the tank and at the canteen buying candy and soda; mom would likely not approve.

I follow the woman around the corner and down a hallway until we come to a locked door. Surely, there is not a fishing barge behind this door. She opens the door and hands me the tackle box. She says "Everything is in here. Just put the cup back in the box when you are done". Well at least I don't have to worry about whether or not I can still caste a fishing line. It’s clear I’m not here to fish.

I enter the bathroom and there is no toilet paper - great - typical. I open the tackle box and there is everything one needs to give a sample plus hand soap, and....ta da toilet paper. But it’s kind of creepy, because although the toilet paper is in a plastic baggie, my imagination is running overtime as to where this half-spent roll of paper has been. There were no towels to dry my hands, but they had thought of everything else to put into a well-stocked fishing tackle box. When I come out there is a line-up of people with tackle boxes waiting their turn. I wonder if they think they are going fishing too. Very strange.