So Official

A book could and should be written about the USVI St. Thomas health department.

In an attempt to profit off seasonal employees from the states, USVI state law requires most employees to have Food Handlers Certificate. Even if you have nothing to do with food, if you're around it, you have to have it. Normally, I wouldn't mind the disorderly fashion a subpar government building takes on when dealing with assinine documents. I did live in Italy where I had to elbow two elderly gents just to get to the head of the post office line. However, this certificate really is shitty. 

Shitty in the most literal sense. The topical paradise of the USVI requires a stool sample in order to obtain the Food Handlers Certificate. Not as in some odd bar stool carving competition where the most unique design wins. Stool as in poop, doo doo, dookie, ca ca, shit.

What in God's green earth is in my poop that's not in my blood, urine or saliva?!

You would think the kind souls at the health department would make this process easy for you: you're secreting yesterday's yummy goodness. They have to have some decency about it, right? Wrong. They are she devils, or he devils, I just happened to see only females during this humiliation process.

This is the cup they give you to collect your precious nugget. My hand isn't that giant.

I'll spare you the details of the collecting process, unless you really want to know, then I'll tell you all about it. But it wasn't as traumatizing as I thought it could be.

I had to give the sample before 10:30 am but had to come back at 1:00 pm to get the results and my certificate. Feeling proud of myself for overcoming my extreme aversion to poo, I ventured to Red Hook to buy Christmas gifts for my mom and sister.

One o'clock came and I returned to the hospital to pay $30 for the card and to be told I was parasite free. What a relief. And the final product is....

I'm so official, all I need is a whistle.

Good Morning

In the research I've conducted (that would be Google searches, let's get real) I've picked up a valuable lesson of saying Good Morning, Good Afternoon or Good Evening to every St. Thomasian. They prefer it over hi or hello. Easy enough.

An older kitchen worker sat down next to me at lunch today.

"Good morning," I cheerfully said to her.

Without looking up from her rice and beans, she spat out "you know you already said that, right!?"

No, actually I didn't. But you can't have someone sit next to you while you're both eating at your place of work and just not say anything. Maybe I am southern.

"We can say it twice, can't we?" I asked.

She went back to eating. I went back to listening to my Peruvian roommates speak Spanish.

Good morning, Bitch.

At least this is where I had lunch.

How Do I Get Myself In These Situations?

Sitting next to someone on plane is always awkward for me. Social circumstances require you say hello or good morning but that's all that is required. Nothing more. Why is it that everytime i fly, with my headphones in, my book open, my distinct "don't talk to me" scowl is placed on my face, that people love to chat me up?

Francisco was a lovely man, besides his nostril hair protruding out of his nose, he lived in St. Thomas for 25 years and had good tips about where to go and what to see. But i shouldn't have asked home about where to get good food. Because this happened.

Nose hairs:" have you got any friends or family on the island?"

Me:"no."

Nose Hairs: "then we should get dinner together!"

Me: "oh, how kind of you but i ha e orientation tonight."

A lie, i wanted to sleep.

And then he stopped talking. So i took pictures. Enjoy.