“Whatever you do,” said our tour guide for Dunn River Falls, Jamaica, “do not tell anyone your name or buy any souvenirs from the merchants – they are overpriced.”
With that, our royal blue bus, a refurbished airport limousine from Japan of all places, some ancient stickers on the backs of the seats giving away its familiar place of origination, swung around the corner and lurched into a parking spot.
The driver opened the door, and we climbed down the beat up, black linoleum-covered steps.
After an hour’s ride over steep highways and winding shoreline roads, it felt good to stretch while standing on the sidewalk. The sun was brutally hot, and I took a few steps toward the shade of a nearby tree.
“Ya mon!” said a guy standing next to our bus. “Welcome to Dunn River Falls! Is this your first time?”
“Yes!” I answered, truthfully.
“My name is CJ. I work here. What’s your name?”
“Sarah.”
“The falls are beautiful, Sarah,” he said. “The guys clean the rocks every day, so they’re pretty safe. It looks scary, but you will be fine.”
“Thanks, CJ.”
“Is this your husband?” he asked.
“Yes.” I was thankful to be stepping closer to Tom. Something didn’t quite seem right all of the sudden. Why did this guy care?
“He has a beard that looks like Moses! What is his name?”
“Tom…”
Oh, craaaaap. Suddenly, the tour guide’s words came back to me and made perfect sense.
Mr. Shadypants was putting something in my hand. A woman. Carved from wood. With my name etched on the side… next to someone the name of someone else that had been quickly scratched off.
“In Jamaica, the woman is the boss,” he said, trying to impress me.
I was mad. Mostly at myself.
“Yeah? Your wife is your boss? And you’re okay with this?” I said, trying to hand him back his trinket.
“Oh, that’s a gift for you,” said Mr. Shadypants, pushing it back towards me with his open palm. “We men say, ‘No problem!’ See how it’s carved right here?”
My skin crawled as I noticed the guy’s pupils were dilated as big as saucers. Why didn’t I see this before? Crap! Crap! Double Crap! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
In his other hand magically appeared a male figurine with Tom’s name carved along the side. Beard and all. Wow, Mr. Shadypants was fast.
“Tom, mon!” he said, getting Tom’s attention. “See how they kiss?” He smooched the two figurines together. “This is a gift for your wife. She’s a good woman,” he said. “This one, though, well, I was hoping you could give me something for it… you know… whatever you think it’s worth. I have a family to feed, mon!”
Tom shot me a lethal look, retrieved his wallet, and gave Mr. Shadypants $10.
Mr. Shadypants went to go hustle the people getting off of the next bus.
“You had to tell him your name, didn’t you?!” growled Tom.
“You had to pay him!” I retorted. “You could have said, ‘my wife is crazy… no thanks!'”
“He was a scary dude!” said Tom. “Aren’t you afraid of big scary dudes?”
To my detriment, no.
I am a naïve little girl who always thinks the best of people… especially on vacation when my guard is, apparently, down. (Note to self!)
I hate myself because I know better.
Dunn River falls is amazing, and you must climb it if you go to Jamaica.
Just, please, don’t give anyone your name.
Have you ever been hustled into buying something? At what point did you realize you’ve been had? Please tell me your story so we can commiserate together.
In it, Ezio, the assassin, has a poisoned blade he uses to poke targets. They die moments later, after he is long gone. 
