ParadiseOne of my buddies took his family on a vacation to St. John this week as a graduation present for his daughter (who is an absolutely great kid).
St. John, in case you didn't know, is a small island just east of Puerto Rico, and one of the U.S. Virgin Islands.
"It's like paradise," he said, the day they got there.
This morning, he called.
"Do you know any good personal injury lawyers?" he asked.
Here's what happened. They boarded a ferry that eventually ran onto a reef. He was asleep in his car, and his knees got slammed badly enough that he's only able to walk with quite a bit pain. His wife was cut in several places, and it was awful all around. Now the lawyers for the ferry company are hounding him about signing a release, which he is clearly not stupid enough to do.
Wait, there's more.
Yesterday, his daughter and her boyfriend took out some rented kayaks, came back after several hours, and the the person operating the shop tried to charge them an outrageous amount of money for "scratches" on the bottom of the kayak.
"Why the hell would anybody care if the bottom of a kayak is scratched?" I asked.
"I don't know," he said.
"If they want to pull that crap," I said, "then they should take a picture of the bottom of the kayaks before they rent them. That sounds one hundred percent sketchy."
"I didn't pay it," he said. "The kids swore they never ran over anything, and they never showed us the bottoms before they rented them. But I got into a hell of a shouting match with the owner."
"I'm glad you found a relaxing place to take vacation," I said.
"I've had enough of paradise," he said.