My Application to Join the 1%

28 Jan

Do you know what I’ve discovered?   I deserve the right to be “bougie” (meaning bourgeois—pronounced “boo-gee” with a soft “g” for my non-ghetto friends).  I haven’t always felt that way, but I just got back from an island vacation after taking my husband (White and Wonderful, a.k.a. “WW”) there for his 60th birthday and that experience left me thinking:  “I want in on the good times too—all the time—you 1% Mofos!”

I’ve been saving for a year to surprise WW with this ostentatious trip because I knew he would not take turning sixty years old with even the slightest amount of grace.  I knew this because he’s been announcing his attitudinal demise for five years:  “You better be on the alert, Cutie, I will not do turning 60 very well at all!”   This was one unhappy white man, and he was careening towards sixty years old kicking and screaming like a toddler.  I was not looking forward to hanging out for a year with a grumpy old man.  I decided to give him a birthday gift of a lifetime in the hope that it would be an infusion of joy to sustain him over the hump of the big 6-0.  So I put his list of favorite things into a search category (sea, sun, sand, snorkeling, boating, hot weather in January, easy to get to from the States, and fascinating new experiences), and Google spit out the Cayman Islands.

Google Image/Public Domain

The seduction started immediately.

Beautiful Hotel Assistant (BHA):  “Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. High Muckety-muck.  Would you like a glass of guava-mango nectar and some freshly baked chocolate chip cookies from heaven while you check in?”  Even though I have a gluten allergy, those cookies were so “to die for” in my newfound “Bali Ha’i” that they didn’t even make me sick.  (WW says the cookies were gluten-free because our holiday handlers were just that good and trained to make sure they didn’t miss a beat regarding our personal preferences.)

Gorgeous Concierge:  “We’ve solidified your itinerary for the week according to the specifications that you sent to us via email”:

  • 90 minutes spa appointment for Mrs. High Muckety-muck
  • Snorkeling trip on private sailboat to three prime locations off the beaten path (only Mr. HM. will be snorkeling—Mrs. HM will go along for the ride and do her diva thing)
  • Hawaii Five-0-type helicopter ride to survey the islands and the coastline (fascinating new experience)
  • Rollin’ with the pirates on a sunset cruise (new experience)
  • Touring a rum distillery (new experience)
  • Dinner at the restaurant of a world-renowned French chef
  • A day at the beach in your own private cabana (waiters in attendance with unlimited food and exotic drinks)

“Enjoy your stay, Mr. and Mrs. High-Muckety Muck.  Let us know if there is anything we can do for you.  We’re here to serve you.   There’s nothing we can’t provide for your vacationing pleasure.  Now will that be Visa or MasterCard?”

Ei-yi-yi-yi-yi!  WW and I had died and gone to heaven.  The sun kissed our skin with a perfect 82 degrees every day, and a constant trade wind gently blew across our bodies every second from the moment we ate our sumptuous breakfast on the private balcony to our room (overlooking a tropical garden), until we retired at night to the turned down sheets with gourmet chocolates gracing our over-stuffed pillows.

Google Image/Public Domain

The helicopter flung us through the air in an hour of Hawaii Five-0 duck and dive-type maneuvers that caused a young newlywed to lose her lunch but made WW and me scream with delight like little kids—“Again!”

The French pilot gave us a tour of the islands and slowly circled the houses of the rich and famous.  As he told us of his carefree existence in our “Shangri-La” (“I cam her for a vizit dirty yerz a-go and nev-air vent hume agane”), he assured us that we too could have our “joie de vivre” in the Cayman Islands if we just set our minds to do it.  As the pilot flew us over the houses of the real High-Muckety-mucks—not the posers like us—the gateway drug of greed bite WW and me solidly in the ass.  We are near retirement.  Why not quit the jobs, sell our house, cash in our retirement funds, and move to the Cayman Islands—never looking back.  The kids are grown and could fend for themselves.

But could we afford it?  “Of curz vous can,” said the pilot.  “Zat’s my houze below.  Zee what a magnefeesant manzion I own.  Vous know why:  NO PROPERTY TAX, NO INCOME TAX, NO CAPITAL GAINS TAX, AND NO INHERITANCE TAX!  (Suddenly, all trace of a French accent had disappeared once the pilot started talking about the absence of taxes.)  “With your money stashed in one of our 280 banks, you’d be sitting pretty, and without the curse of the IRS breathing down your throats your dreams could come true here in Cay-man.  Let’s bank to the left and swoop down on that mansion below.  Does this suit your fancy?  The owner is selling it for $60 million.” (I learned later that the French pilot sold real estate on the side and wasn’t as “French” as he claimed to be.)

Living room of Castillo Caribe, Cayman Island/Google Image

No matter how we jumbled the figures (and we seriously tried), the pilot’s suggestion was never going to be ours unless Mitt Romney gave us a percentage of the money he’s been sheltering in the Caymans.  Maybe then, and only then, could WW and I buy this house and never return to real life in America.  This was Mitt Romney rich, not “middle-class couple from the 99% saves for a year for a week’s vacation rich.”  We had to find another way.

And then the devil showed up.

Devil (posing as Captain Drake):  “Welcome aboard, Mr. and Mrs. High Muckety-muck.  I’m your Captain today and I will take you anywhere you want to go or wherever the wind blows.   May I call you John and Eleanor?  When I’m through with you, perhaps you’ll like the islands so much you’ll never return home.  I came here ten years ago for a vacation and never left.  Imagine your life with the sea and me on a boat like this.  Mr. John: let’s see how you look behind the wheel of this beauty; try it on for size why don’t you.”

As the Devil escorted WW from one glorious private snorkeling location to another, I could tell my husband was no longer feeling the devastation of turning 60.  When WW got to snorkel in and around an old wreck. . .

. . .and play kissy-face with a stingray, my husband cast off twenty years into the sea.

Seeing my husband so happy and energized, I stretched out on the deck and worked on my tan while the Devil continued to work on our minds.

Devil:  “Mr. John—Imagine taking your grandson out on a boat like this and teaching him how to fish and snorkel.  Can you see him spending the summers with you frolicking in the ocean and building castles in the sand?  Miss Eleanor—Imagine writing the great American novel right here in paradise.  All sorts of artistic people find their mojo here.  See that house on your left?  That used to be Sylvester Stallone’s mansion.”

But WW and I didn’t inject the “happy dust” into our veins at that point—we’re not stupid, and we know when we’re being played.  We didn’t succumb until we took the sunset cruise on the pirate ship and met a man and his wife who came down from New Jersey every other week and stayed in their custom-built home on Rum Point.  Sometimes they came alone, sometimes their best friends joined them, sometimes their grown kids tagged along with the grandkids, and sometimes it was just them and the grandkids.  They were our age and they were living the dream.  Suddenly a Gollum-like lust engulfed me:   “We wants it, we needs it. Must have the precious.”  This island was my “precious,” dammit.  Why did New Jersey guy and his wife get to live the good life in the Caymans and we couldn’t?  What were WW and I—chopped liver?

The week flew by (doesn’t it always when you’re having fun), and we didn’t wake up from our choke-hold of greed until we were in the cab going back to the airport.  As we had done all week with anyone who served us, we asked the cab driver how long he had been living on the island, especially because he was an American and he was around our age.

Cabbie:  “I’m from upstate New York.  I came to the Cayman islands twenty years ago as a hotel manager.  It was a great life until Hurricane Ivan struck in 2004.  I lost everything (my house, my car, and my job) as did many of the other residents.  There’s the hotel I managed over there on the left.  It was never rebuilt—only the shell remains.  The entire island was out of electricity for three months and out of water for two months.  Sometimes it would take all day to queue up just to get a gallon of water.  And the summer heat was off the charts.  The hurricane sucked all the clouds and the trade winds out to sea while the mosquitos came up out of the swamps by the legions.  I swear they were the size of helicopters.  The very rich left on their private planes before the storm hit and hung out in one of their many other homes since they only come down here a couple of times a year.  Many of the international hotel workers who escaped via the evacuation never returned since everything they owned was in their luggage and what got left behind was destroyed anyway.  Everyone else who stayed was forced to keep their windows closed at night or the mosquitos would pick them up and carry them out to sea.  It was either die of heat exhaustion or be eaten alive.  Homeless families moved in with whoever still had shelter.  It took us quite a while to get back on our feet as an island and we still haven’t gotten back to where we were before 2004.  Poverty is at an all-time high, and the rich who use the Cayman’s as a second, third, fourth, or fifth home have driven the cost of real estate to the moon.  None of the locals who work in the service industries can afford homes anymore, and there is very little rental property for local use.  Because there are no taxes, the public schools are sub-standard (those who can send their children abroad to boarding schools), and the Island’s infrastructure is crumbling.  So here I am driving a cab in my golden years when I should be retired in paradise, but at least I’ve got a job and a home.  Have a safe trip back—I’d give anything to see snow again.”

As the sun set over the sea and we thought about the cab driver who was part of the 99% in the Cayman islands, WW and I got our sanity back, and thanked God for the “gift” of being able to experience a little piece of heaven.  Then we promptly dropped our lust to be part of the 1% into the sea as we headed back home with grateful hearts that we didn’t have to permanently live in the tax sheltered shadows of the rich and famous.

I am discovering that there are respites in our lives that are given to us as gifts to revitalize and encourage us in our journey.  They are meant to be enjoyed and relished.  But the gifts are never meant to be lusted after and sustained for life.  When that happens the respites are no longer gifts—they are heroin—and we will be consumed by our lust for them.

I am home now and it is freezing.  I’m back at work to make money so that I can take another trip next year to bring WW and me another joy-infused vacation (somewhere world) because travel is our “joie de vivre.”  We just won’t get greedy about it.

I am home now and my head hurts.  Another racist low-life has disrespected President Obama by jamming her finger in his face as if he were her house-boy; Paula Deen has fallen into disgrace by hiding her diabetes diagnosis for years while foisting hamburger, egg and bacon, donut sandwiches laced with sweet tea on her fans; Demi Moore is in the hospital for substance abuse after being screwed over by a little boy, and the Republican Party is eating its own.  But at least for a week, I got to go to heaven with the man I love and leave these types of troubles behind, and the Caymans gave me enough of a joy-infusion that it kept my head from exploding from all the crazies in the land.

Happy Birthday, my love!


“There is a very fine line between loving life and being greedy for it.” ― Maya Angelou

“Greed, envy, sloth, pride and gluttony: these are not vices anymore. No, these are marketing tools. Lust is our way of life. Envy is just a nudge towards another sale. Even in our relationships we consume each other, each of us looking for what we can get out of the other. Our appetites are often satisfied at the expense of those around us. In a dog-eat-dog world we lose part of our humanity.” ― Jon Foreman


All text and photos by Eleanor and John Tomczyk © 2011 , except where otherwise noted

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.


Posted by on January 28, 2012 in Uncategorized


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39 responses to “My Application to Join the 1%

  1. Maggie

    January 28, 2012 at 12:32 am

    You two sweethearts and your exotic trips!! So glad you and WW relaxed and got some well needed fun and sun. After being in Hawaii for two weeks almost a year ago now, I know what you mean about “getting used to” the fine life! But flying back home, I realized as did my sweetheart that what we could afford to live in there made our home here look like the Taj Mahal!! We came home very grateful for jobs and the home we have been in for many years now!! Love all the pictures of the trip, especially the helicopter ride!! Hugs, Maggie

    • etomczyk

      January 28, 2012 at 12:38 am

      Hi Mags. Isn’t that helicopter ride a hoot? It was just like the opening of Hawaii Five-0. AWESOME! The trip did the trick with WW. He’s happy as a well-fed baby and I can relax and write. Thanks so much for being one of my first readers and commenters on this story. Much appreciated. Hugs back. ET

  2. Lori Franks

    January 28, 2012 at 12:33 am

    I enjoyed this story with a sense of understanding exactly what you experienced. Every time my husband and I travel we are afflicted with the same lust demons! Why is that? Maybe it is the “Grass is always Greener” syndrome? Then there is the added factor that when you are vacationing you are relaxed and carefree. Any place you live takes on a whole different perspective when you are abiding there day after day.
    Oh…. but let me try it out on some tropical isle….just to make sure of the theory!

    I’m really happy that you both had a wonderful time…especially the birthday boy!

    • etomczyk

      January 28, 2012 at 12:44 am

      Me too Lori–if someone gave me a beautiful home in the Cayman Islands, I wouldn’t throw it off the island. I’d give it a try and write blogs about my trials and tribulations living the good life. 🙂 Although, after hearing the taxi driver’s assessment of Hurricane Ivan, I’d be one of the people on the first plane out before the storm hit and to hell with the gorgeous house.

      Thanks for reading and leaving such a fun comment. I’ll drop by to see what you’ve been up to once I get some sleep. All the best.

  3. Ragnhild K Ulrich

    January 28, 2012 at 1:01 am

    Great story… I’m glad the two of you had a sun-kissed, exotic birthday celebration for WW! Love the paragraph, “I am discovering that there are respites in our lives that are given to us as gifts to revitalize and encourage us in our journey. They are meant to be enjoyed and relished. But the gifts are never meant to be lusted after and sustained for life. When that happens the respites are no longer gifts—they are heroin—and we will be consumed by our lust for them”… it is profoundly true!!!

    • etomczyk

      January 28, 2012 at 1:49 pm

      Hi Ragnhild. Thanks for stopping by and for sharing your thoughts on my blog. It was quite an experience and I am always amazed at the juxtiposition of conditions of people in every country I visit. The Cayman Islands hide it well, but if you barely scratch the service and befriend the locals, the truth always surfaces. The trillions of dollars that flow through that country with no taxable accountability is a sin. At one point England refused to loan the islands any more money and told them to start taxing the banks. I hope they keep the pressure on.

  4. Greg

    January 28, 2012 at 1:21 am

    The boat life is quite do-able actually and the bonus is when you want to leave and/or run from a hurricane, you just pull up lines and beat feet, or sails, whatever. 😉

    I have been blissfully ignorant of the rantings and ravings of media for a few years now and coming from someone who was forced to watch it as his job for 3 years I can tell you I don’t miss it one itty bitty bit.

    • etomczyk

      January 28, 2012 at 1:52 pm

      Hi Greg. Thanks for stoping by. Yes, I think I could get into that if I could ever learn to swim 🙂 Also, our captain told us an horrific story when he and a crew of 8 had to move his sailboat away from a hurricane and ran right into the eye of it (bad calculations by his then boss). It was “The Perfect Storm” all over again but they survived. Yikes!

      • Greg

        January 29, 2012 at 9:11 pm

        yeah, having a competent captain is kinda clutch. I married one so, ya know, got that part sorted 😉

  5. becomingcliche

    January 28, 2012 at 7:52 am

    I am so glad you got to have such a fantastic vacation. Is it just me, or does the captain look a lot like the helicopter pilot?

    • etomczyk

      January 28, 2012 at 1:54 pm

      Hi BC: WW liked to pretend he was the pilot and the captain but thank God we had “real”
      ones in the air and on the sea. Cheers!

  6. Lindy Lee

    January 28, 2012 at 8:59 am

    Home is, most definitely, where the heart is. All the misery in the world comes from greed. This is another absolutely fine post by you, etomczyk.

    P.S. We have a cool President and some [insert your own descriptive] just can’t stand it.

    P.P.S. You sure do have a fine set of teeth to support your splendid smile…

    • etomczyk

      January 28, 2012 at 1:56 pm

      Lindy. Thanks so much for your wonderful encouragement. You’re the best. Thanks for the props on the teeth. I like to smile, so I’m glad they are presentable 🙂 Cheers!

  7. Kirsten

    January 28, 2012 at 9:57 am

    Happy Birthday, John! May this be the best year ever. Eleanor, can’t wait to hear all about this in person when we catch up in February. XXOO

    • etomczyk

      January 28, 2012 at 1:59 pm

      Hey Kirsten. Can’t wait to catch up, as well. Cheers!

  8. morristownmemos by Ronnie Hammer

    January 28, 2012 at 11:32 am

    Eleanor, That was a delightful post. We went to the cayman Islands years ago and understand your lust for the life there. It’s a good thing that your cab driver waited until your last day there to burst our bubble of fantasies.

    I once read a wonder easy that said “The real importance of vacations is that they make you realize how beautiful your own home is.” Welcome back.


    • etomczyk

      January 28, 2012 at 1:57 pm

      Hi Ronnie: You’re so right. We’ve lived abroad for an extended period of time, as well, and that is where I learned to really cherish my country. I love to travel, but I love coming home even more. Cheers!

  9. eurobrat

    January 28, 2012 at 12:49 pm

    I agree about not being greedy…but I also think that with as much as people work their asses off in this country, every family should be able to afford a vacation like this once in a while to decompress. Americans deserve it!

    • etomczyk

      January 28, 2012 at 2:02 pm

      Eurobrat. You’re so, so right. In fact, we need to decompress consistently through the year. Europeans take longer holidays and have much more vacation time than the average American worker. I think we wouldn’t be so hellishly angry all the time if we could decompress more.

      Thanks for stopping by. It’s always good to hear from you. ET

  10. composerinthegarden

    January 28, 2012 at 3:40 pm

    Oh, I’m going to give this post to my husband to read and suggest a similar present for my 6-0 coming up 🙂

    • etomczyk

      January 28, 2012 at 3:46 pm

      Hi Lynn. I just came back from your site. I left you my kudos on the jazz post. Bravo! I also spent a lot of time reading the comments on the “reblog” toggle. I had no idea that was so problematic. I see the toggle on your site but it isn’t on mine (not that I want it). I’ve had a couple of scenrios where my stories were copied and pasted at will and only found out about them by accident. I can’t believe WordPress makes it easier for others to steal our work. Good grief.

      Definitely plant the seed now about your 60th. WW started 5 years ago! I couldn’t afford it until this year. He’s always wanted to go to the Cayman Islands. Cheers!

      • composerinthegarden

        January 31, 2012 at 7:54 pm

        Hi Eleanor. Thanks for the jazz post comments; I had a lot of fun with that one and got a great response.
        The “reblog” issue continues on; I just read (via a web translator) a post from Indonesia that copied bits and pieces of dissenters comments from the WP reblog blog, and the blogger went from wondering what the problem was to agreeing with those of us who complained to WP – I guess expressing the dissenting opinion can make a difference 🙂 Who knew?

        We started the 60th celebration discussion last night – hmmmmm. . . .

      • etomczyk

        January 31, 2012 at 11:02 pm

        Hi Lynn. I’m definitely in agreement with you. I researched what I could about the reblog situation and I am not pleased. It should be an option–turn it on if you want to allow others to steal your posts or leave it off if you are not in agreement. I was amazed at the overwhelming positive comments in favor of the reblog. Good grief!

        Starting the 60th celeb, huh? Go for the best!

  11. MJ, Nonstepmom

    January 28, 2012 at 8:44 pm

    You have more will power than I , we drank the koolaid last summer, gave in and bought a sailboat. Our plan: when the last kid goes to college, we’re packing up and not telling anyone where we headed !

    • etomczyk

      January 29, 2012 at 1:57 pm

      MJ: Great to hear from you. That sailboat option does sound delicious. When we were doing our sailboat thing in the Cayman islands, I must say it seemed like a life I could really get used to. You go, girl!

  12. Hudson Howl

    January 29, 2012 at 9:20 am

    WW is a one ‘LUCKY’ son of a gun. Firstly, he has you in his life. And then, and then, and then you scrimp and save an take him to the Caymans. Phssssst. I hope he appreciates what he has………am glad you two had a great time…….as always, lotza meat between the bread in this sandwich (post).

    • etomczyk

      January 29, 2012 at 3:35 pm

      Hudson, my man! I’ve been wondering where you’ve been. So glad to hear from you from Beyond Plum Creek. Yes, WW is most appreciative of his B-day gift. He says to tell you that the gifts he’s given me rival in comparison, so I’m not hurting in the deal at all. 🙂 (The children tell me that God broke the mode when he created their father and that they have been ruined in finding spouses to live up to his example of how a man should love a woman–I concur.)

      I just came back from visiting your site at Beyond Plum Creek. Tried to leave a comment, but I kept being thrown into the intro overlay. I’ll try again. All the best. ET

      • Hudson Howl

        January 30, 2012 at 9:16 am

        It appears then you have found the right dude!!!!

        Am having technical difficulties on the blog portion. Little wordpress Gremlins have infested something somewhere. I get to the bottom of it soon, I HOPE. The contact and send comments on real site is fine.

  13. imagesbytdashfield

    January 29, 2012 at 3:51 pm

    Lucky man! Lucky man! And blessed both of you. I sooooooooooooo miss Cayman! I am too chicken to do anything with the rays but did you make it to the turtle farm? I loved that! Snickering here about the “bougie” how that word gets flung about. Rum tour? Tortuga Rum? AWWWW MAN!!!

    • etomczyk

      January 29, 2012 at 6:05 pm

      Aw yes! It was indeed marvelous, T. We flew over the turtle farm and learned the history of turle meat and the ship captains who used it to feed their crew. I didn’t get in the water with the rays (can’t swim), but WW swims like a fish and has no fear.

      It was a dream trip come true and made even more decadent because it was 16 degrees at home. Thanks so much for stopping by. ET

  14. biscuitfeatures

    January 30, 2012 at 6:40 pm

    How good it is to get some perspective – I really appreciated your conclusion. It’s well and good to enjoy the gifts of God’s earth – they weren’t put here to be spat at, after all! But when we make that the focus of our life, suddenly nothing seems fulfilling, nothing is enough. How much more there is to be gained by helping those less fortunate experience those gifts we take for granted – giving is the essence of life, and is guaranteed to bring a return every time 🙂

    Sounds like you had a fab time, thanks for sharing!

    • etomczyk

      January 30, 2012 at 8:35 pm

      Hi Bekkyb! Loved your feedback to my story. You’re so right. My husband and I are still laughing at the pull that perfect week had on us. But, of course, that was the point–it was one week out of 52. It was a week that was blessed with grace, but it doesn’t mean that the other 51 would be. That’s why the taxi driver’s story was like a plumb line in both of us.

      Thanks so much for reading and commenting. Much appreciated.

  15. aFrankAngle

    January 31, 2012 at 7:44 pm

    Hey E-Tom … Hmmmm … the Cayman’s you say? Well, I’ve never been there, so I guess I have to take your word for it. 😉 … Meanwhile, telling about the trip through your style is a hoot. Well done … and Happy Birthday WW!

    • etomczyk

      January 31, 2012 at 10:58 pm

      Hi Frank. You and Mrs. Right Angle should go to the Caymans. I think you’d like it. It’s definitely a great experience.

      Hope your project is coming along. I’m still trying to carve out enough consistent time to complete my project while still maintaining a blog. It is not easy. Thanks for dropping by.

      • aFrankAngle

        February 1, 2012 at 7:49 am

        Good news for me … the project is no more.

  16. talesfromthemotherland

    February 1, 2012 at 2:43 pm

    Eleanor, Great post, as they all are. I’m so glad you’re back from your holiday break! 🙂 I’m pulling my act together, but agree that you and I have more in common than one might anticipate. You do make me laugh, and think, every time.
    So, I’ve nominated you for the Sunshine Award. It’s another of those blogging awards, that are tad nebulous, but isn’t it nice to be appreciated by your peers? I appreciate you Ms. Diva. I really do!
    Check out your award:
    I try very hard to not put my link no other’s pages, but had to here… hope you enjoy!

    • etomczyk

      February 2, 2012 at 1:20 am

      BJD: Thanks so much for your lovely comment and for nominating me for the Sunshine Award. I am really touched and very honored that you find my blog worth reading. The best part of blogging has been meeting people like you and becoming a part of such an encouraging group of writers. Thank you. Thank you.

  17. An Observant Mind

    April 23, 2012 at 3:34 am

    Happy (belated) 60th to your WW! What a wonderful gift you gave him, your relationship is one to be applauded and admired! So sad about those 1%, but I always say, its NEVER as good as it looks. Life just seems to work that way, and it seems that if relationships are anything to go by, you too ARE the 1%!!

    • etomczyk

      April 23, 2012 at 9:10 pm

      Karyn. Thanks for the belated b-day wishes for WW. He’s still flying high off that trip. It was worth saving up for it so that his b-day would be one to remember. He is such a gem and I love surprising him. We have a lot of fun together, too, which makes traveling a great joy!

      I so appreciate your reader support and love, love the comments you share. All the best. ET


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