On New Year's Day I received an Evite to my high school friend K's wedding . . . on Necker Island in the BVIs . . . which is the private island home of Sir Richard Branson of Virgins Music, Atlantic, America, Blue, etc etc fame. Ian and I discussed and postulated how this could possibly be and decided that, knowing K, it was equally likely that on one hand he had come upon enough money to rent the island for the event, or on the other hand that he had met Sir Rick himself and had been invited as a family guest.
In the event, it seems that K and his lovely fiancée A (whom we met in a flying visit to Seattle in mid-January; they are currently New Yorkers) are, in fact, renting the island, although the man who introduced them to each other does, unrelatedly, work for Branson in some capacity.
Anyway, I'm leaving tomorrow morning at 4:30am (when I ordered my taxi just now the agent said "and you're still out of BED?!?"), and flying in multiple legs to Tortola. A ferry to Necker Island on the 10th, in the afternoon, has been mentioned, but true to many private events of the rich and famous, who are trying to avoid contamination by the riff-raff, I as yet don't have any more information than that.
Will someone pick me up at my hotel on Thursday afternoon? Will I be blindfolded, or put into the back of a windowless van and driven . . . somewhere? Will a note appear at my hotel telling me where to go? Or will it simply mock me for taking the bait and flying myself all the way to the Caribbean for nothing?
If it does turn out to have been a hoax, and I find myself without 2.14 employees dedicated to me and me alone for three whole days, I suppose I'll just have to make the best of it. At my second tropical paradise in two months. Sigh.