Leave in the Time of COVID
Leave In the time of COVID
by Rich Walburg
To get on any flight to the United States Virgin Islands, we needed proof of a negative COVID test – or documentation of a positive antibody test – with results from within five days of the flight. Although masks were mandated in the airport and on the plane, social distancing was not an option.
It was a full flight with three across on both sides of the plane. I was in an aisle seat. The man in the middle was a big guy. Really big. Being less than svelte myself (working toward svelte-near), it made for a long three-and-a-half-hour flight to St. Thomas.
My not-so-negligible neighbor was wearing a black mask to cover his mouth and nose. On top of that, he wore a homemade plastic shop visor. He looked ready to mug Homer Formby.
My buddy, Sal Gardooni, doesn’t always like to follow rules, but he was on his best behavior. Unfortunately, every time he removed his mask to take a sip from his squat bottle of complimentary Dasani, a flight attendant was there to remind him to cover his nose and mouth.
A group of 12 had planned this trip for July of 2020, but like so many vacations, events and familiar embraces, it had been canceled. We rescheduled for February of 2021 with the intention of walking the 25th annual St. John 8 Tuff Miles Road Race. While it was also scratched due to the pandemic, we went ahead with the trip.
Upon arrival, we were greeted by members of the National Guard asking to see our COVID papers. We were cleared, grabbed our bags and took a cab to Red Hook. That was quickly followed by a ferry to Cruz Bay on St. John.
We stopped for a quick drink at one of our favorite spots, High Tide, before taking our final taxi to our rental home in Coral Bay. Again, Sal got his knuckles rapped for removing his mask to suck down a Jack and water.
After arrival, we were no Fauci slouchies. For the most part, we stayed at the compound with our dozen traveling friends. Occasionally, we’d walk or make the short ride to Miss Lucy’s which was less than a mile away. Good bar food with outdoor tables right on the water.
According to Landry, only three people on St. John were infected with the virus. Landry is the captain of Salt Deck, a pontoon boat we chartered for the day. It comes equipped equipped with a waterslide, popsicles and a jug of lemonade marked, “adult.” The word, “pontoon,” is fun. It’s like cartoon or spittoon.
Photo by @sarahbswan
Salt Deck is the only pontoon boat in the USVI. Again, that’s according to Landry. The boat took us to Lime Out, a floating taco restaurant on the southeast side of the island. Small groups of ravenous visitors sit on giant circular floatie sofas in the water. There’s fun in watching graceless oafs climbing aboard the slippery seats. It’s like manatees mounting a banana boat.
The novelty is reason enough to love Lime Out, but the kitchen also offers the best tacos you’ll ever have. Try the short rib.
Salt Deck dropped us by Skinny Legs and we decided to grab one cold one before returning to the house. Sal got in trouble, again, for standing up without first putting on his mask.
Our “home” cooking was also world-class. Rather than venture out, we grilled out. Two evenings, we hired Chef Ted. The cuisinier wears free-flowing shirts that would be the envy of any of the Brothers Gibb as he prepares and serves course after course of pan-fried tuna dumplings, jumbo lump crab cake sliders, flash fried eggplant crostini and more.
Getting to St. John requires a long day of travel, which is much more enjoyable when heading to the island than returning home. Most visitors to the USVI arrive and leave on Saturdays, making the airport a series of lines for check-in, customs and TSA. It’s recommended to arrive three hours prior to departure. For perspective, I’ve had root canals in twenty minutes.
However, no COVID documentation is needed to return to the mainland. As long as it clears customs you can bring it home.