Alright, so let’s fast forward through the Sunday chapter
and get to Monday, the big day of the first annual Dominica Treasure Trek. It was a race to end all races. Starting at the international dateline, we
were to traverse around the globe. The
queen herself would drop the checkered flag…well, maybe not that
momentous. It started at the Kairi Fm
radio station in town and would end eight miles up the western coast of
island. So still kinda momentous,
right? I mean, we like, had to show up
there at totally 4:30 am in the
morning and stuff. They actually awarded
points for teams who managed to get there on time, which was a good call when
wanting to start an organized event before sunrise in a location accustomed to
running on island time.
There were 13 teams, all made up of people from local
workplaces and organizations, except for the two teams comprised of Peace Corps
Volunteers. They consisted of the BEST
INDIES represented by myself, Jerome, Amanda, Tym, and Anna. And BEACH CORPS (pffft, yeah, real original)
put together by Nate, Brenden, Zac, Veronica, and Becky.
There were five challenges along the way that had to be
completed as a team for points if successfully done, and the
finish line had to be crossed by all members if the team was to finish and
place.
There was no dramatic, definitive cap gun start to signify
that the race had started. There was a
reiteration of the rules by one of the promoters, then a sort of confused stare-down
between her and all the teams. And then she
gave a sort of, “well, go on, get outta here.” And thus, the race began.
No one intended to run the entire way. But I suggested we run 5 minutes and walk 1
minute the entire way, not having trained whatsoever for the event. “Anyone can do that indefinitely!” I said. It turns out this is very untrue. Running 1 minute and walking 5 minutes to
recover over the course of 8 miles
of asphalt was excruciating enough.
We were off to a shaky start. You see, the Beach Corps had decided to
implement tortoise-steady pacing approach to the race, meaning they didn’t
intend to run AT ALL. The hares on my
team were ready to mock this brisk-walking approach as they pulled ahead of
Beach Corps and tried to make their way in front of the Dominican teams.
At least, they would have, if I wasn’t walking briskly
alongside the Beach Corps members. Remember,
nothing counts unless all your team members are together. I’m kind of known for being chronically non-competitive
and putting too much emphasis on trivial things like fun and self-esteem, and
thus, the vulnerable link in the BEST INDIES super chain of awesomeness.
I chatted up Brenden, who I hadn’t seen in a while. I talked to Veronica, who I hadn’t seen since
the Derby party and we remarked on
the sunrise. I received backward glances
from my team mates who had jogged ahead, trying to set a lead.
Amanda was getting annoyed that I was fraternizing with our
competition.
I already knew what she was thinking: I swear to god, if you try and sabotage our team later because we’re
winning by too much… Well, I don’t
really know how she would finish that thought, I don’t really want to.
So I just yelled, “What’s this race going to matter in 30
years? It’s the friendships that’ll last
a lifetime!” Beach Corps agreed and
Veronica put her arm around me.
“Tym, go get him,” said Amanda,
Tym jogged back to find me talking to Zac about how Robert
Downey Jr. makes a great Iron Man.
-“Let’s go.”
-“Aww, but a muscle-y boy is talking to me about comic books!”
-“Now.”
I ran with Tym as we crossed the bridge out of town and
joined our team where we moved into prime position and I never looked
back. I winded myself once, trying to
catch a chicken in a gutter and had to stop to catch my breath. And another time I stopped to smell a pretty
flower, but other than that, my head was back in the game.
We were the first to reach the first station. The task was to put together a 100 piece puzzle
of teddy bears getting married and then continue the race. The BEST INDIES were on fire. We delegated edges, assigned colors,
negotiated backgrounds, consulted box tops.
Well, by we, I mean my team mates.
How do you expect someone with no drive to win to do at a leisure
activity turned into a scored event? I really
helped my team there by getting out of the way.
We were the first to finish. There
were reporters actually commentating this stuff. I was hoping to have a mic thrust in my face
so I could say, “It’s all about communication,
Davidson. Communication. But we’d like to thank Almighty God.”
The BEST INDIES take the lead. After each completed task, we were given a small inflated ball we had to carry safely to the finish line.
The Beach Corps arrived a long time later but finished the
puzzle in a matter of seconds and continued on their way. Puzzle arrangement may be slanted in American
favor as all the other Dominican teams struggled visibly. “Hurry, the white people are done, we have to
catch them!” was rumored to have been remarked.
The police force had a team who took about an hour to complete the
cardboard puzzle. Tym (whose home was
invaded twice this year and had to do his own investigative work) said dryly
and hilariously, “How can they expect to solve crimes if they can’t even solve
a jigsaw puzzle?”
The next station was a trivia bombardment. The answers were kangaroo, soccer, Brazil,
your name, and Selena. That last one was
my time to shine.
In between the stations, it was a cross-country course along
the Caribbean sea, across rivers, along palm tree
forests, and mountain cliffs, through villages, past heavy construction
equipment, and under wide, expansive sky.
We got to the third station.
We were still leaders of the pack but paranoid that Beach Corps was going to
speed walk around the corner any given second.
Anyway, we were met by white, long thin fiberglass tubes are placed on wooden cross
planks. Finally! Almost two years in the Caribbean
and not a single opportunity for me to limbo had arisen until this point.
Amanda, Anna, and I bent over backwards like pros. Jerome and Tym, gangly, tall and with agonizing
knee pain had to attempt it repeatedly.
Jesus, let me just say that it’s good the judges weren’t scoring points
on looking pretty. It was not fun to
watch the back-breaking struggle. Especially
poor Tym. A trooper, that guy. Very proud of him.
Although, I have to come clean here. It happened.
We all saw it happen. And we
never spoke of it. To this day. Tym really was trying very hard. He fell down, once on his back and then again
on his front and always knocking the bar down.
I seriously thought he was going to break in thirds at the knees. He finally cleared the bar without falling or
making it fall, but not without lifting it slightly with his schnozze. The judges let us have it, even though the
rules said WITHOUT TOUCHING the limbo stick.
I didn’t have the heart to make Tym do it again and if I refused the
points, it would look like I was sabotaging us like I do during Cranium. So we just went on. But technically, we don’t deserve our perfect
score. There, I said it. I can sleep now.
Anyway, whenever we saw a white umbrella advertising the
sponsoring cell phone company that marked the next challenge station, no matter
how tired and sore we felt, we ran at full sprint in excitement of reaching our
next challenge. At this one, we were met
by a table with pasties in blue Styrofoam bowls with glasses of water next to
them.
Anyone who’s ever read Arthurian legends or any other childhood
fantasy stories or questing myths, knows that when you’re on a physical journey
with a group of companions, especially a journey full of tasks and tests, you
never just grab and eat food or drink something that just appears unexpectedly
and invitingly. But like Abu the monkey,
picking up a big ruby and making the Cave
of Wonders collapse on Aladdin’s
head, Amanda was all,
“Oooh, a snack! I’m
famished!” and reached out to grab the raisin
Danish.
“Amanda, wait!” I yelled.
Organizers from the radio station rushed forward, put their hands out,
and themselves yelled, “No!” We mustn’t
touch the buns with our hands at any point.
Or we would be disqualified. Phew, talk about your close calls.
The coordinator explained, “You will eat these buns doggy-style.”
Ahem.
Meaning, with our hands behind our backs, the challenge would not
completed until all team members had each finished their own bun. There was no rush, we had plenty of
time. The bun was tasty. Amanda and I offered advice to the team: I said,
“Hey, it’s easier if you press the air out of it with your face!” Amanda said, “Just spit water on it and slurp
it down!” Both suggestions were gross
but hers worked best. Score another
victory for the BEST INDIES!
We ran. We
walked. We were full of morale,
blistered feet and ruined knees. We won
first place. The last challenge was an
anti-climactic carrying of a bag of sand to the finish line.
It was great. The organizers made a beach the end of the
race. So we could continue jogging right
into the water to cool off. Everyone hung
out until all teams crossed the finish line and Beach Corps even came in third
place. We won a schnazzy trophy, 1500
dollars, and a spa day. Yay.
Best Indies had the balls needed to win.
I stretched out my aching hammies. God smiled his approval of our victory with a rainbow. I begin to think I could grow to like winning.
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