No vacation would be complete with mistakes and embarrassing moments. This one is no exception.

Upon our arrival, we were informed that it is important to always shut and lock all windows and doors when nobody is home. Theft has become a problem here on Bonaire. (No violent crimes like assault, rape or murder, but petty theft is on the rise.)

Each apartment is equipped with its own safe. So, immediately upon unpacking, Mary Ellen asked me for my wallet, our passports, and our flight reservations for the trip home. I handed them all over to her, and she locked them away in the safe and hid the key in a safe place.

Two hours later, I asked Mary to take my wallet out of the safe so that we could go out to dinner, and…she forgot where she hid the key.

At first, I was calm. We methodically went through every room in the apartment…and came up empty. No key.

We went through every room again, and…(Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results)…no key.

Our passports. Our flights home. My wallet. Our credit cards. All cleverly hidden away in a wall safe where nobody, and I mean nobody could get to them!

Now, panic began settling into my brain. I started saying things like, “I can’t believe it! Mary! You’ve got to be more careful about things like this! We can’t even get air to dive tomorrow because our diving certification cards are with the passports! We can’t even eat tonight, because there is absolutely no freaking food in the apartment, and all of my cash is in my wallet!”

At that point, Mary, still cool as a cucumber, told me not to worry. “I’ve got cash in my pocket for dinner tonight, and tomorrow, we’ll ask the manager of the apartment for the master key to the safe.”

Tomorrow is Sunday, I thought. No freaking apartment manager on island time here in Bonaire is going to show his face around here until Monday.  And chances are, when he DOES show up, he’s never seen a safe master key in his protected and isolated life! We’re screwed!!!!!!!!

I ranted and raved for a few more minutes, refusing to go out to eat or do anything else until we found the key.  If I couldn’t find the damned key, all I wanted to do was what any full-blooded American male wants to do in these situations - curl up into the fetal position, suck my thumb, tug on my earlobe and pout.

But I didn’t; I forced myself to remain at least semi-“grown-up” about the whole predicament THAT SHE had gotten us into! (Where’s Oliver Hardy when you need him? “This is another fine mess that you’ve gotten us into!)

After about twenty minutes of sitting on the bed and lamenting about people with bad memories and twiddling my thumbs as loudly as I could, my stomach began growling.

So, begrudgingly, I stood up and said, “Let’s get something to eat.”

Now, mind you, all of this time, Mary Ellen, to her credit, remained completely calm and coherent. We climbed into the rented pick-up truck and started down the road. After about a mile of driving in icy silence, I said, “Are you sure that you checked all of the clothes that you wore today?”

She nodded and then, her face lit up like a Christmas Tree. She then reached into her bra, and pulled out…BA-DA-BOOM!!!!...the freaking key!

My mood swung from desolation to elation to anger all within a tenth of a mile. “See?” She smiled, “I knew I put it in a safe place!”

I wanted to kill her. Then, I reached over and grabbed the key out of her hands. “I hold onto that from now on!” I said.

After another moment or two, we both burst out laughing.

We ended up having a wonderful dinner at a restaurant owned by a friend of ours – Richard’s Seafront Restaurant, where you dine on the finest Venezuelan beef and most exquisite seafood you’ve ever put in your mouth while sitting under the stars with the Caribbean Sea lapping at your feet.

After that meal, the trauma of the lost key just seemed to melt into the ether.

The safe key is hidden in another safe place now…under the ice tray in the freezer of the refrigerator.