PeterLynn
Senior Insider
Busted by Customs in SJU (AKA "The Sandwich Police")
Early alarm coincided with the sunrise, which was beautiful as is was almost every morning. Previous night's packing left only those few items required for our morning rituals, so the suitcases were quickly zipped up. This left time for some breakfast, which ended up like an episode of "Chopped" as we cleared out the refrigerator in addition to prepping our anticipated lunch for the layover in San Juan. Early hour also meant it was an easy trip over the airport, dropping off the Jimny and checking in. At the eight o'clock hour the Tradewind rep calls us and all were led directly out to the awaiting plane. Smooth trip west and in about an hour we are touching down. As we deplaned, I recognized another couple that we had seen the previous two evenings at La Langouste and Les Bananiers. Turns out they don't recall seeing us either night, but rather our Joel Robuchon lunch the previous week! Chatting on the bus, it turns out we were both at L'Esprit the same night and they were only staying a few villas down from us on Flamands. Crazy. I didn't catch their names, but they are from Atlanta and have been coming since 1998, so maybe some long-time forum members know them.
Global Entry and only six of us passengers means "easy peasy" until it doesn't. Hand over the slip printed from the kiosk and proceeded to get interrogated about the purpose of the trip, how much money we have, any liquor (including itemizing everything and getting scolded for going a liter or two over) and food. Oops. Both of us are then escorted to a separate room where all the bags are scanned and the suspect carry-on thoroughly searched. Hearts stop when they open the beautiful Joel Robuchon box containing the pre-ordered olive bread and croissants. Maybe the "Pity Kitty" look in our eyes worked, as they set that aside. Unfortunately nothing can save our lunch. "Ham" is the offending substance. I considered offering to reduce them to swiss cheese and mustard sandwiches in an effort to avoid eating at Air Margaritaville again, but figured it better to keep quiet before they suddenly remember the excess Sancerre, Chablis and especially the Gloriette Rhum Vanille. After about thirty minutes, they finally release us and we are off to find the Southwest Airlines counter. Fortunately, the rest of the trip is uneventful with a two-hour flight to Tampa, a couple of hour layover and we touch down in Houston around eight. Another trip is in the book. Now, about next year....
Early alarm coincided with the sunrise, which was beautiful as is was almost every morning. Previous night's packing left only those few items required for our morning rituals, so the suitcases were quickly zipped up. This left time for some breakfast, which ended up like an episode of "Chopped" as we cleared out the refrigerator in addition to prepping our anticipated lunch for the layover in San Juan. Early hour also meant it was an easy trip over the airport, dropping off the Jimny and checking in. At the eight o'clock hour the Tradewind rep calls us and all were led directly out to the awaiting plane. Smooth trip west and in about an hour we are touching down. As we deplaned, I recognized another couple that we had seen the previous two evenings at La Langouste and Les Bananiers. Turns out they don't recall seeing us either night, but rather our Joel Robuchon lunch the previous week! Chatting on the bus, it turns out we were both at L'Esprit the same night and they were only staying a few villas down from us on Flamands. Crazy. I didn't catch their names, but they are from Atlanta and have been coming since 1998, so maybe some long-time forum members know them.
Global Entry and only six of us passengers means "easy peasy" until it doesn't. Hand over the slip printed from the kiosk and proceeded to get interrogated about the purpose of the trip, how much money we have, any liquor (including itemizing everything and getting scolded for going a liter or two over) and food. Oops. Both of us are then escorted to a separate room where all the bags are scanned and the suspect carry-on thoroughly searched. Hearts stop when they open the beautiful Joel Robuchon box containing the pre-ordered olive bread and croissants. Maybe the "Pity Kitty" look in our eyes worked, as they set that aside. Unfortunately nothing can save our lunch. "Ham" is the offending substance. I considered offering to reduce them to swiss cheese and mustard sandwiches in an effort to avoid eating at Air Margaritaville again, but figured it better to keep quiet before they suddenly remember the excess Sancerre, Chablis and especially the Gloriette Rhum Vanille. After about thirty minutes, they finally release us and we are off to find the Southwest Airlines counter. Fortunately, the rest of the trip is uneventful with a two-hour flight to Tampa, a couple of hour layover and we touch down in Houston around eight. Another trip is in the book. Now, about next year....
