I'm crammed into a middle seat, row 26, Copa Airlines. The lady to my left kept the window open to gaze at the sky (no judgment, just a little bright for my liking), the lady to my right is already fast asleep just minutes into the trek to Bogotá, her face shielded by a mask (judgment intended). My elbows tucked to my sides so I have juuuuuuuuust enough room to crack my fingers and start typing. Three weeks into the season. Three missed cuts. But this isn't going to be a negative entry today.
The first few weeks we were in The Bahamas, one of the many places I've never visited, nor ever wanted to.
Nassau was like Disney World with a $1,000 entry fee — overcrowded, aggressively chlorinated, and kitschy unless accompanied by a 9-year-old with the same last name. The vibes were weird. I kept trying to read the minds of everyone around me and landed on the same thought: this is what we spent thousands of dollars on?
I feel bad about overgeneralizing the entire island of Nassau based on my one experience; this wasn't intended to be a smear campaign. But Atlantis must have been created based on a book titled 'How to build a 'paradise' for upper-class Americans in the Caribbean'. I'll trademark that in case anyone thinks that's a good book idea. I hope it's not.
So we gambled. And sat on the beach. And gambled. And ate at overpriced restaurants. And gambled. And squeezed into an overcrowded gym. And then gambled a little bit more. We rode every slide that Atlantis had to offer. Lost countless games of knockout to Blades Brown — the kid is either 18 years old or a great athlete, or both. We ate dessert at Ben & Jerry's every night. And retreated to our living quarters once we lost the battle to fatigue.
We watched the Texans beat the Steelers in one of the worst football games ever played. We ran into Julio Jones at the casino. We continued to return to Shake Shack after multiple below-average visits. We scoffed at the idea of vacationing at Atlantis. And got pissed that every mediocre meal was $41.
Atlantis won't be winning any awards besides maybe:
- Hotel most likely hotel to run into a confused DeAndre Ayton wondering why he isn’t in Cancun
- Worst ways to spend $3-5,000
- Most crowded gym in the world, with people who appear to have never worked out before
And that was Nassau
Abaco was much better.
We stayed in a beautiful house overlooking the ocean. We played an absurd amount of padel, before finally admitting that Daniel Summerhays and his 42 years of age proved to be unbeatable as the kids scrambled around just to steal a few points to make the scoreboard (somewhat) respectable. I ran on the beach and up some hills. Ate some home-cooked meals from our lovely hosts. Hung out with their dog, Rosco, a rambunctious yellow lab. I made a new friend who also happened to win the tournament. I watched some waves crash into the rocks. And then, just like that, it was time to go. Life in the clouds would resume some other time (hopefully).
Abaco Club is one of the few places I've been where it's genuinely difficult to convey the beauty and wealth associated with it. Your boss's boss's boss probably doesn't even know someone who's visited. Or I'm completely misreading it. Other contenders for coolest places I've ever been: Gozzer Ranch and El Dorado. This was in a similar category.
After that, I flew home for a few brief days in Houston, where I ran 15 miles one morning as my 'preparation' for the Austin Marathon (that I'm like 81% committed to). I finally took my buddy to my favorite breakfast spot — shoutout The Pit Room for having the best breakfast tacos on planet earth, you're welcome if you ever use this recommendation.
And then I was off to Panamá. A hop, skip, and a jump... The Bahamas, Texas, Panamá. What a life.
Writing has made me realize how negative my thoughts can get — this place wasn't great, golf is hard, that thing was underwhelming. You probably know that, as you just read how much I enjoyed my visit to Atlantis. I used to associate negativity with credibility — the brother of a friend to all is a friend to none... If you love everything and only give out positive reviews, your credibility dwindles. That can also lead you down a path of extreme pessimism, always poking holes in an attempt to criticize or stand out.
The good news is that when I do like something/someplace, I'll ride or die for it. I'll swear by its charm... the loyalty I so deeply value.
Enter Panamá.
I had zero expectations for our trip to Central America. I assumed it wouldn't blow me away, and it would be similar to my trips to other countries for golf: overpriced and lost in my memory.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
Panamá was freaking delightful.
The food was terrific. I don't think I had a meal below a 7.7 on Beli the entire week. It was $7 for a 30-minute Uber. You could walk to so many good restaurants. We found a coffee shop to die for: Leto. A burger place to rival anywhere in the States: Antiburger. A mall worthy of an afternoon: Multiplaza. A record store that tripled as a music store, nightclub, and coffee shop. A dinner spot with a blue door that made me want to move there, 9.4 on Beli, Chevre. And an ice cream + speakeasy hybrid that will probably never be dethroned as my answer to: what's the best ice cream place you've ever been to? Güt Panamá, and it's not close.
We visited the Panamá Canal — underwhelming as an activity, overwhelming in its importance. I hopped in a quick Uber to run along the beach, because when in Rome. And then zipped over to the golf course to watch my friend (interviewed here) try to win a golf tournament, but he came up a little short. The ride home was a little sad as he continued to refresh the Korn Ferry Tour leaderboard before realizing that the tournament was over and there would be no more updates.
But we rallied.
I turned 25. Enjoyed dinner with 3 friends, washed it down with a massive ice cream sundae, and called it quits. A very memorable start to my Jamaal Charles year. I woke up sad that it was my last day in Panamá.
Onto Bogotá.
Drew Murdock aka Murda
