Pixie in Paradise

08March2023: Girls Trip, International Episode

The trip to Belize became mandatory. Completely burnt out and at a breaking point having not experienced in quite a while, I waved the white flag and tapped out. Eight days later my best friend from high school, Mandy, and I would meet in Dallas from different states and fly together to Belize. I was tired, heartbroken and ungrounded. I had allowed people and circumstances to take things from my spirit that I knew were rightfully mine. Me, at full strength would never have allowed it, but this version of me was worn down from 12 months of immense love and pain, joy and sorrow – and dating. It was the best year but also the hardest on me emotionally and mentally. I was pushed to my limits in every way and physically had to overcome two winter viruses and a bout with Covid – it finally caught me.

I called Mandy on a Tuesday while working, up against tight deadlines. I said, “I am not okay,” and she knew instantly something was wrong, very different. Mandy and I had met in high school and by that point we were both seventeen and raising ourselves, independent of our nuclear families. To this day we’ve just got each other, don’t talk on the phone often but are always there for each other and we know it. 

As we talked further, Mandy confessed that she was at a very similar breaking point, and also needed to get away. I told her I was planning on meditating, doing yoga and sitting in the sand on the beach with a bottle of tequila – or rum, we’d be in the Caribbean after all. Mandy said she was in, and I began to find a place for us to run to for temporary relief.

I randomly searched Caribbean vacation spots and prices dictated that I get creative. Off to the Dominican Republic at the end of the year I wanted to go someplace different. Belize was a  country that had always been in the back of my mind for some reason. Choosing Belize due to climate and budget friendly travel, I booked my flight, the resort and later called Mandy to give her the information, so she could arrange her own flights to and from Belize. Coming from two different directions, we booked flights separately but knew we’d end up on the same plane once we both made it to Dallas. But I had the shortest layover – 45 minutes – at DFW airport, fourth busiest U.S. airport, and big as fuck. High risk, high reward. If I could make that flight my travel day would only be six or seven hours from the desert in Tucson, Arizona, that was sucking the life out of me, to a beautiful, warm, humid tropical environment. I was done with my everyday life and willing to take the chance.

Neither of us had been to Central America before but had some idea that travel would require a bit of planning ahead of time, as we needed to get from the mainland to the little island we were staying on. We had arranged a water taxi from Belize City to our island, Caye Caulker, before we even left. Actually what that entails is first hiring a ground taxi to take us to the water, then hopping the water taxi to our little island. 

Five days before the trip, I opened social media to find that one of the dear friends I’ve known the longest, had passed away. I had met her only three years after Mandy, when I moved back to Wisconsin. I was in shock and reached out to her sister immediately, asking if this was a joke, since I hadn’t been notified that she had been sick. Her sister responded that my friend, Alice, had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer 12 months ago and hadn’t told anyone. She didn’t want anyone to remember her as being sick. This meant nobody but close family got to say goodbye and that was a hard pill to swallow at first. Then I realized, Alice went out on her own terms and lived every single day to the fullest. She really, truly did. Alice traveled extensively in the Caribbean and Central America, and danced any time she heard music. I vowed to carry her memory with me and dance a song for her every time I heard music playing.

Two days before the trip, I called Mandy to discuss trip planning and she didn’t sound alright. Turns out that day the doctor had found some lumps or scar tissue in her breasts and she would need to have a diagnostic procedure and possibly surgery again, like she did the year before, for the same thing. That time it was benign and they got everything, but the timing of this and Alice’s passing and my near breakdown, put me at an absolute tipping point. Walking a tightrope, not truly knowing whether I would fall off or keep my balance for a bit longer. 

Even holding on for a few more days before vacation seemed like a daunting task. And the pressure that I was putting on this trip, making the assumption that it was going to help heal me, was also a tall ask. But I knew it couldn’t hurt, so it had to help.

I left at 3:30am for the airport, for a 6:00am flight. I’m one of those anxious fliers: I hate to fly, I hate to rush and get severely motion sick so I had been pre-medicating with Meclizine for 48 hours already. Knowing we were going to be on planes and boats and in water, I wanted to be sure this very short vacation could be enjoyed to its fullest. I was more nervous about making my connecting flight in Dallas, than I was about any of the transportation necessary to get us where we needed to be. I was ready to jump out of my seat and kick heads out of the way to run through the terminals to be reunited with Mandy. It had been a year and three months since we saw each other and vowed then not to let more than a year go by before seeing each other. Before that, it had been at least five years. And we are always in the background of each other’s lives, supporting and loving and always having each others’ backs. It has been that way for the last 30 years. She was my original “ride or die,” before that was even a term. There weren’t camera phones when we pulled the wild and crazy shit we used to do – thank goodness!

When that plane landed and came to a stop in Dallas, I stood up, seatbelt off and backpack on. Suitcase checked through already to Belize. I scurried off that plane and jumped onto the airport train that takes passengers to the international terminal. Mandy texted me every couple of minutes – sometimes seconds – to let me know what’s going on at the boarding gate. And truthfully, two nights beforehand I told her I was concerned about this connection and she stopped me mid-sentence and said, “Hey, do you really think I’m going to let that plane take off without you?” And I said, “Oh yeah, you’re right. You’re not letting that pilot go anywhere until I’m with you!” We laughed, knowing it was true, and that curbed my connecting flight anxiety. I still wanted to move quickly but I knew Mandy had, and always would have, my back. She’s extremely persuasive and that pilot didn’t have a chance. 

I texted her when I got on the train, when I got to our terminal, to the boarding gate, then burst into tears when I saw her in the first row. (Of course my luxurious friend flies first class). I hugged her and cried, falling into her arms for a few seconds then laughed and said I needed to go to the back of the aircraft with the “poor people.” Mandy told me later that everyone up in first class was laughing so hard when I walked away after making that statement.

We had both made it. My solo trip for healing and working on my shit had turned into that, and a reunion with my dear friend of 30 years, and a celebration of life for the one that had just left us. Somehow Mandy and I had never taken a trip together and vowed it would never wait until we’re both in crisis mode, ever again.