The Art of Trespassing at Hotels

I am so ridiculously well-behaved that my friend Bronwyn (Williams. …Hi Bronwyn Williams)  once said to me “Sharon, just don’t do anything you wouldn’t do”. One of the reasons I am this way is because every time I do anything even a little bit wrong I get caught. Except for one thing: Trafficking drugs. I’m just kidding. It’s obviously (as the title of this blog implies), trespassing at hotels. I have had much experience in this department. I have done this twice recently and I thought I would take this opportunity to share my expertise with you. 


Just over a week ago I went trespassing at the One and Only hotel on Paradise Island which is that fancy island just across from our port in Nassau where the Atlantis resort is and where Oprah and Mariah Carey and Tiger Wood’s ex-wife own really big houses with yachts parked outside. The hotel was similarly super-classy. 

Together with a largish group of Youth Counsellors and Musicians, we took a water taxi to the Island and wandered to the other side, not to the hotel as this was not a premeditated act of trespassing (Wow, I’m so hardcore) but rather to Cabbage beach. - The free beach just down the coast from the $80 a day beach-pass Atlantis beach. 

After frolicking in the sand and failing to pull off the ‘High School Musical Pose’ I love so much, some of us attempted to swim. It was windy and the waves were quite rough. Actually, my roomie Christina succeeded (I think she’s such a good swimmer because she comes from the UK and it rains so much there that you practically have to swim everywhere you go). But (coming from sunny South Africa where we only swim in the swimming pools in our own backyards) I was too scared to venture in with her. Instead, I played chicken with the waves and still managed to get battered quite a bit.  





The problem came in when I then needed the bathroom. When you’re not prepared to pay $80 a day to go to the Atlantis beach you can’t really expect access to a public restroom, can you? And while my view is usually that if it’s good enough for Flipper it’s good enough for me, today this was not the case. So I spotted the beach entrance to a fancy-ass hotel and spent a while psyching myself up. When the need to pee overcame my fear of getting into trouble, I went for it. 

I have to say, it definitely helps to be a descent-looking white girl who’s not wearing much more than a bikini. Male security of any sort are not very discouraging of you entering whatever premises they are associated with and any day fare they are probably supposed to ask you for is wavered if you’re not carrying a handbag.

I wandered in past the security. There was a restaurant overlooking the beach, but when I got up close I saw that it was full of really well-dressed older folk. I got the impression that you needed to be clothed to get in there so I kept walking like I knew where I was going. I wandered barefooted through the manicured lawns past hammocks hanging between palm trees and stopped to ask someone for directions in my slightly extra-proper South African English accent. She asked me if I knew where the adult pool was. ‘Of course, yes!’ I continued to walk the general direction she indicated, took a bit of a detour to admire the spa facilities (Wow!) and then found the pool area. There were all these super fancy people lying on deck chairs around a pool that didn’t have a single ripple in it with beautiful gardens stretching into the distance. It was hard not to gasp in aw and give myself away. 

I eventually found the bathroom and it was quite something. It was so fancy I actually felt bad urinating in it. And the paper hand towels, they were so soft I was tempted to take one as a souvenir. 

On my way back I stopped to see if I could spot my friends from a deck overlooking the ocean. They were too busy being abused by waves to notice I was gone. When I got back to the beach I told them of my victory. They followed the directions I gave them and when they found the bathroom they went one step further and took showers in it. Why didn’t I think about that? I’ll have to go back. 

Here are some tips to keep in mind if you ever feel like attempting this (or if you need to pee really badly)
  • Separate. This is not a horror movie. 
  • Don’t carry cruise line branded towels - a dead giveaway that you’re staying elsewhere.
  • If you’re on a hotel-owned beach don’t stick to the outskirts - it looks like you’re encroaching. Sit in the middle and make use of the facilities. Take a dip in the pool at the very least.
  • Be super friendly - If you get caught it’ll be harder for them to be mean to you. 
  • Mingle with the other guests.
  • Take pictures selectively. I obviously couldn’t in this case but I did steal some from the internet. - Ooh, there’s another bad thing I can get away with. I know, I’m so gangster. 
The restaurant with clothed people

A view of the pool from the restrooms



The same pool from a different angle

In other news (but not really because it’s sorta related): 


I went on the same adventure again but with different people
Speaking of trespassing at hotels, when my friends heard about my adventures with Evan, they too wanted to visit the Queen’s staircase and the Greycliff - that creepy desolate hotel for ghosts with the hummingbird nest in the chandelier I mentioned in my previous blog. I was a bit reluctant to go back there because I thought this time it might be full of people and my impression of it would be ruined but I agreed to show them where it was, if I could remember myself. That and my plan for a beach day was messed up by the weather. 

Once again we started this adventure at the place where adventures start: Duncan Donuts. This time I opted for a hot chocolate instead of one of those overrated vanilla bean milkshake things. It was way better, but irrelevant to the rest of the story. Then we wandered the backstreets until we found it, the Greycliff. It was as it was before, all decked out but without any guests in sight. 

Another failed attempt at 'High School Musicaling'
Outside the hotel, we saw a sign for the cigar factory, so in the interests of ‘trying to find the cigar factory,’ we took a look around. -And took a ridiculous amount of pictures. The hummingbird and its nest were gone. Evan and I didn’t wander further than the courtyard area but this time we wandered into a second outdoor lounge area and put Kika in a box because we had no Jack’s in our party. Then we found the pool area. There were two separate pools, the second one was massive and tiled with painted ceramic tiles. It was quite beautiful and yet surrounded by vacant deck chairs. We attempted our High School Musical pose again. And failed again. We continued walking and found an overgrown garden with these weird wooden lion statues before ‘giving up’ on finding the cigar factory’, and wandering back through and out.



My mother actually googled the hotel and apparently, according to the all-knowing internet, the Beatles have stayed there. Other guests have included: Aristotle Onassis, some other famous person, I forget who, and bed bugs. I stopped listening after she said 'Beatles'.







Then Christina took over as the tour guide. She took us past the Pink House (not that she knew what it was before we stumbled upon it), then some World War II monument, and then we went to the historical institute - partly to look at their exhibits but mostly to use the bathroom. We then went to the Queen’s staircase, which we climbed. We stopped for lunch at the top where we found a little black bug on our table that I initially mistook for a droplet. We named him ‘Carlos’. He was a good bug. Then he flew away and left us. Jerk. Then we explored Fort Fincastle before heading back. 
The Queen's Staircase


Carlos
Fort Fincastle

I also took more pictures of derelict houses. Maybe one day I should try trespassing at those?


In other news (but really this time):


Gay Pride
It was Miami gay pride this weekend so some of the guys from Cruise Staff threw a pride party in the Crew bar with pink champagne. I made a half-assed attempt to dress like Dorothy to support my friends of Dorothy. 




Our Youth Program Manager Shyne who was really awesome and inspiring and who I’m very happy to have gotten to know went home
Yes, that sums it up.




And that’s it from me for now.

46 cruises down, 6 to go!
Sets of matching outfits spotted during embarkation gangway duty last cruise (Why do people do that?):  7


               
               



            

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Sharon Waugh

Sharon is a writer, cruise ship entertainment host and freelance unicorn wrangler. She is currently taking a break from her seafaring adventures to explore some more landlocked locations from her homebase in Johannesburg, South Africa. She likes to photograph a plastic lawn flamingo 'Rodrigo' on her travels because it seemed like a good idea ten years ago and 53 countries later, it’s probably too late to turn back now.

 Sharon greatly dislikes reading 'travel blogs' by people who are just rephrasing press releases or composing lists like '15 ways to travel the world for cheap', specifically formulated for SEO, with absolutely no evidence that the writers have ever left their bedrooms. (This is not one of those blogs.) Sharon also dislikes bigotry and referring to herself in first person, apparently.

To find out more about Sharon and Rodrigo’s travel aspirations read this.

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