COZUMEL: October, 2005 (Part 5)

By the final slurp of our Brandy Alexanders we had a course of action. If the weather was no worse in the morning, I would go off in search of Dramamine while William packed the snorkeling gear. We would take that glass-bottom boat trip, we would see pretty fish, and we would not vomit.

Later in our room, while brushing my teeth, I drifted over to the television and clicked on CNN. I froze mid-brush and stared at the weather graphic in front of me. I made a gurgling noise to get William's attention.

The tropical depression now had a name: Wilma.

And she was a Category 5 hurricane.

This is the worst storm in Atlantic history for as long as storms have been recorded, the broadcaster intoned.

The map on the screen didn't target the Yucatan. It didn't target Cancun.

The single location pictured was a tiny island: COZUMEL.

Toothpaste dripped down my chin as I pointed to the TV. We have to get out of here. Mierda.

After umpteen futile attempts to reach the airline by phone (at $3 a minute), we had no choice but to wait until morning to seek help from the concierge.

We crawled into bed, exhausted from stress and hard thinking. After flopping around on the bed, smashing my pillow and uselessly squeezing my eyes shut, I gave up. I exhaled shallow, anxious breaths and tried to imagine how events would unfold.

Thanks to CNN, my head was filled with terrifying facts.

The power would go out early in the game, probably when winds reached Category 1 status at 74 mph. Our room would plunge into blackness. The air conditioning and refrigeration would shut down. An ocean surge would flood the hotel and the streets.

A Category 2 force of 110 mph would shatter those floor-to-ceiling windows in the lobby and blow out the sliding glass door in our room.

And when the Category 5 gusts hit at upward of 155 mph—

COZUMEL: October, 2005 (Part 4)

That evening, the weather forecast on CNN remained indeterminate. The tropical depression over Jamaica still looked far off.

Despite that, over a bottle of wine at dinner, we discussed our options.

We quizzed our waiter about management's contingency plans in the case of a storm. He told us during Hurricane Emily, in July, the hotel ferried its guests across to Cancun and another resort. He also reminded us this brand new hotel was substantially built. No worries.

We knew it was unlikely we'd be reimbursed if we left early. People save for years for a vacation like this. Were we alarmists to consider bolting?

Do you think there's a tiny part of us that would like to experience the drama of a hurricane? I asked William.

Possibly.

That isn't a good reason to stay, is it?

No.

An employee at the front desk informed us that in the event of a natural disaster, the hotel would look after its guests. We would be granted "refugee status" and be "cared for."

Mildly assured, we went to the bar and ordered Brandy Alexanders. William wondered if the tourists dragging their wheelie suitcases down New Orleans' flooded Canal Street after Hurricane Katrina were also told they would be "cared for."

By our second drink we asked ourselves what we'd be staying for. We couldn't snorkel as long as those black flags continued to billow. We'd pretty much done the "all-inclusive" eat-what-you-want thing and enjoyed Jacuzzis every day in our room.

The only item left was a brackish trip on the glass-bottom boat.

Sometimes I wonder if it isn't better, in the case of a natural catastrophe, to have it just happen. In Los Angeles an earthquake shows up whenever it wants, full of surprise and gotcha!

With a warning, decisions have to be made. I knew I was being childish, but I wanted the vacation to last. I wanted it to be everything I read and everything I saw in those photos. I wanted, I wanted, I wanted....

COZUMEL: October, 2005 (Part 3)

The glass-bottom boat docked at the hotel pier and I asked a few disembarking passengers about any seasickness. The men said they got ill and the women laughed, but everyone agreed the snorkeling from the boat was worth the rough waters. As they walked away, one fellow looked back and said, You may want to get out there sooner than later. Weather doesn't look good for the next couple of days.

The television in our room offered limited local news. We watched CNN International and learned that a tropical depression had formed in Jamaica with a possibility of heading toward the Yucatan. And a possibility of gaining strength and becoming a Category 2 or 3 hurricane.

We came into our room after dinner and from the balcony I could hear waves lapping at the rocky shore. Karaoke singing floated up from the bar. The black warning flags flapped over the railing. We went to sleep with the balcony doors cracked open to the sounds of the sea.

At four a.m. I awoke to hear loud crashing waves and something blowing in the wind. Creaking chains or rope. In the dark, I started across the room to close the doors and forgot about those hazardous two steps down. Suddenly airborne, I flew then landed on both feet like an action hero.

A lucky break.

At breakfast, I pointed out a couple of hotel guests with their legs in casts and, over there, a man with his arm in a sling. Perhaps they had not been so fortunate with their steps.

You know how things happen in threes? I said to William. Well, I nearly lost my contact lens and I nearly broke my foot....

William, not easily impressed with omens, nodded and added sugar to his coffee.

It was Tuesday and we were off to Chankanaab for some spectacular snorkeling. On the tour bus we met a couple from San Antonio and asked if they'd heard any weather news. Not really, but the woman had asked her sister back home to call with updates. Originally from Florida, they'd survived Hurricane Andrew, a Category 4 in 1992.

You were lucky.

Yeah, I guess. We came home to four walls on a slab of cement, but we got through it.

CNN reported the possibility of a hurricane coming our way.

Possibility is the key word, the woman said. They can easily drift in another direction. We've lived through so many of those warnings where nothin' happens.

These folks knew a thing or two about hurricanes.

William and I struggled to snorkel in Chankanaab. The rough ocean made William queasy and I had to constantly stop to clear my snorkel. We were knocked against rocks and spent most of our time trying to avoid cuts and bruises. The water was cloudy and, frankly, any colorful fish seemed to have vacated the area. Perhaps they knew something we didn't.

We found a pair of lounges on the beach, opened our books and held tight to the riffling pages. I glanced up at the palapa above our head. How do its branches and leaves stay together during a storm? Still, the sun shone brightly from a nearly cloudless sky and we lathered up with suntan lotion.

COZUMEL: October, 2005 (Part 2)

Down below, I noticed red warning flags fluttering on the deck railing. On closer study, the ocean was actually jumping with whitecaps. We were prepared for rain but hadn't considered wind. Snorkeling off the hotel deck would be impossible in such strong wind. We'd be bashed into the rocks. I pushed aside the worry. The gusts will calm.

The room was tastefully decorated in dark brown, blue and beige. A split-level design had two steps leading from the bed to a sitting area. Hmmm. The combination of the glossy marble floors and those steps could prove deadly after one too many glasses of champagne.

In the evening we took a stroll and explored the hotel. We sipped piña coladas and peered over the deck at crashing waves. It was not looking good. Maybe tomorrow will be calmer.

With my back to the ocean, I faced the hotel. Guests chatted over cocktails at the warmly lit bar. The lobby and the hotel's three restaurants were all visible through tall windows. Because there was no beach it felt as if we were on an ocean liner. Laughter floated from across the pool. Glasses tinkled and a balmy wind blew strands of hair across my cheek.

I thought of the Titanic.

On Sunday afternoon we wandered through the town of San Miguel and made our way north along Cozumel's coastline to a park. The beach was filled with locals. We sat on a log and watched families picnic. Dads drank beer, moms cradled infants and children threw themselves fully clothed into the warm sea.

When we returned to the hotel we noticed the red warning flags had been replaced with even more serious black ones. The wind had intensified.

The resort offered us two free tours from several options, including the Mayan ruins of Tulum, a glass-bottom boat ride and a snorkeling trip to the national park of Chankanaab.

We picked Chankanaab for Tuesday and the boat ride for Wednesday. Until then we'd read and lounge by the pool.

Poolside on Monday morning, I knocked out a contact lens while putting on swimming goggles. I managed to snatch it up before the strong breeze did.

A lucky break.