Rico's in love
More life lessons from the island legend
Rico did it. The cheeky beach chicken found a girlfriend.
This is the same Rico who a few weeks ago shared his island wisdom from a banana chair and had me eagerly ordering a burger with blue cheese and peanut butter on it.
He finally found love.
What a guy. What a moment. Not just for him, but for all of us.
We crossed paths recently down by the water. I was at Shupe’s Burgers and Beers, an open bar on the boardwalk with red umbrella’d tables that bare the brunt of the afternoon sun.
The burgers are good at Shupe’s, as you’d expect. The beers, too. Cold and crisp and cheap—just the way I like them. But this afternoon’s thirst called for a rum so I ordered the punch. The Captain’s Mix they call it.
Two down, with a third halfway gone before I’m pulled into Rico’s orbit once again.
“Rico!”
“Aye aye,” he said, as he melted his way to the bar like a tanned amoeba.
I pulled out a bar stool for him and he ordered a rum to fill his travel mug.
“Big day on the boat?” I asked.
“The usual riff-raff,” he replied, referring to the snorkeling charter he’d just returned from. I see him and a crew take people out every weekend.
I sipped my rum as Rico had a brief exchange with the bartender. Everyone knows everyone down here on the boardwalk.
Then he turned to me, slapped his hand on the bar like a man who’d solved a riddle, and said: “Man, this place is good for the soul, ain’t it?”
“How do you mean, Rico?” I like saying his name.
“Look around!” He was standing at the bar, his arms were splayed out like he was welcoming everyone to the boardwalk himself. “The sun, the water, the people, the simplicity of it all!”
“I’ll drink to that,” I added.
He started on a thought that I assume he’s shared a few times before: “The best thing about living on St Croix is you’re surrounded by people like you. And by that I mean we’re all running from something.”
He pulled the cigarette from his ear with his finger and thumb, as if he knew it would add to the drama. “It doesn’t matter what people tell you, we’re all down here to escape something. Some folks are still running, others have found what they’re looking for.”
He lit the cigarette and told me how he came to live on St Croix. It featured the usual beats I’ve heard from other folks like Rico I’ve met here and elsewhere: Cubicled drones turned free-spirited beings who leave it all behind for greener pastures, or bluer waters.
Rico’s sea change came after a breakup, as so many do.
“I came down here for a two-week vacation to break the funk,” he explained. “And I just stayed, I guess. I flew back home to quit my job and sell my stuff and took a flight straight back. That was 4 years ago.”
The more I hear stories like this—and I hear them often in this part of the world—the more I think that these are the people who’ve figured it all out. Living their life the way they want to. Not subscribing to the fluorescently-lit 9-5, or should I say 8-7. Not worrying about rubbing the wood against the grain and what that might mean one day down the line.
Just living a way that makes them happy.
Escapism is potent down here on the islands. Like Rico says, people are either trying to find themselves or already have and are living freely because of it.
It’s not that their way—island living—is the only way to live, either. I think it’s more that they’ve figured out what’s important to them and that’s all that matters.
I admire that.
Because it’s easy to get lost in life. Amid the corporate kibitzing, money chasing, stress, and miscellaneous dramas, you can lose sight of the finer things like happiness and contentment.
“You married or have a girlfriend?” Rico asked me after he finished his island story.
“Yeah, the whole kaboot. Wife, 3-year-old daughter—they’re up at the house,” I said as I finished the punch and swirled the leftover ice around the cup. I signaled the server for another. “You?”
“Yeah, I met a girl. At trivia night,” he said.
“Ayyyy! Rico!”
“Yep,” half-smiling, he took a big swig of his drink and pulled out another cigarette, tapping it on the bar before placing it between his lips. “I haven’t a good track record with women and relationships,” he said through pincered lips. “But if there’s one thing I learned...” He paused to light the cigarette and took a long drag before blowing the smoke across the bar. “...It’s that you should never let life get in the way of living.”
My drink arrived and I ordered an extra for Rico.
This one was on me.