Winner’s Suite.

I knew it.

As soon as Estie had come home and told me about this trip she unilaterally scheduled us to take, it sounded too good to be true. She said she had won a drawing for a three day, all-expense paid vacation at an upscale spa resort in the Bahamas. I immediately told her it was a timeshare scam and she immediately ignored my refutations.

Now, as we stood at the doors of the resort, it was even more evident to me that this trip was pitched to her under false pretenses. I don’t know if she was in denial or flat out didn’t care but she went blazing ahead.

We walked through the grand doors into an all glass lobby that showcased abundant island scenery. The light breeze was coming through and swayed Estie’s long black hair from under her massive hat over the part of her back the strapless dress didn’t cover. She flew in a strapless white dress, Kentucky derby regulation sized hat and heels. I flew in what is socially acceptable clothing for international travel of athleisure and flip flops; easier outfit to pass through security in. I looked like her personal assistant I’m sure.

“Greetings and welcome!” a chipper voice called out from behind the desk. I just did a seven hour red eye flight with no meal service because of turbulence so I knew it was the crankiness that wanted so badly to tell he that “welcome” is a greeting so she was redundant and sounded ridiculous.

“Checking in for the Winner’s Suite, name is Estie Smith” Estie said all breathy from behind her gigantic sunglasses, like a Hollywood actor not wanting to be too loud so as not to be recognized. I couldn’t believe that saying something like “Winner’s Suite” wasn’t a dead giveaway to her. She works in tourism!

“Yes, of course Ms. Smith, let me just go get your itinerary”. The front desk attendant left to a room behind the large reception desk.

“Itinerary, Estie? Did you plan anything that we should have an agenda for already?” I asked, arms folded. She shook her head but didn’t turn to look at me.

The attendant returned with an incredible amount of paper. She started rattling off the names, dress code, and reservation policies of all the restaurants on site. She gave us her recommendation for a fish dish that is supposed to be the best on the island. She told us about the spa and locally sourced fruit facials. She then turned to me to tell me about the golf course. Apparently, I was not the personal assistant but more like Estie’s caddy.

Then, she dropped the bomb that I knew was already coming.

“Your presentation is tonight from 4pm to 8pm in the ballroom”.

“Presentation?” Estie dipped her sunglasses down and removed her hat.

“Yes ma’am, all our Winners are receiving a special presentation about how you can enjoy this paradise as many times a year as you want.” You can tell she has had to deliver this news to delusional tourists more than once.

“Oh, yes, sorry, I remember, thank you for reminding me.” Estie took the keycards and novel of literature and gestured to me to get moving down the hall towards the elevator.

“Estie, I told you this was going to happen! It won’t just be the presentation tonight, it will be three days of pestering us to buy into this place and we will get absolutely no relaxation! They will probably end up billing us for everything too!! I read about it online.” I was starting to panic like I usually do. Estie, on the other hand, was cool as the cucumber water they were serving in the lobby.

She pushed her back up against the bathroom door and disappeared for a few moments. I was standing out in the hall with all our luggage. Now I’m apparently her bellhop too.

She came back out with two name tags and two wristbands. She started doctoring them up, as if she didn’t just pull them from the trash.

“We aren’t going to be pestered at all. We are going to wear these nametags that already have been checked off and these wristbands that have already been used to identify people who are going to buy timeshares here. We are going to eat and drink whatever we want and we are going to lay by the pool for the next three days. When someone comes up and asks us about the timeshare program, we are going to say that my husband already put down a deposit and then ask them to book us a spa appointment, got it?” She put her hat and sunglasses back on.

“Well, then what does that make me on this trip if you have a rich husband?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “You are my accountant and close personal friend.” Accountant, figures.

She grabbed her luggage and went sashaying down the long hallway. I went shuffling behind her, knowing full well this plan was doomed to fail and we would be checking into the Ecolodge by the airport as early as 4:30 tonight. Maybe we can at least get a nap and some good Caribbean food before we get booted out.