On Facebook Marketplace, I thread the needle. It’s the art of lowballing unapologetically, with a “don’t shoot the messenger” white flag waving in the breeze.
I’ve already told you—people overvalue what they have. Which means my undervaluing it doesn’t exactly set the tone for a graceful first move on the dance floor.
Their inevitable “How dare you?” gets met with my most sincere and transparent: “Here’s why I dare.” And just like that, we’re off—negotiating in that sweet, reasonable middle ground.
But honestly, I don’t want to be talking about negotiating. Or anything, really.
What I want is a teleportation device to Saturday, straight to the moment our plane touches down on the tarmac at Queen Beatrix International Airport in Aruba—currently rocking a 3.9 out of 5-star rating on Google.
I hope I don’t regret this, but let’s go ahead and read some of the less-than-stellar reviews:
“One happy island. One miserable airport.”
“Absolute NIGHTMARE. I would avoid coming to Aruba just because of this airport. Took us 4 HOURS and several lines just to make it to our gate. I’ve traveled to multiple countries and I have never seen such disorganization. Swim home if you can.”
This is funny because earlier today, someone asked Dave how we were getting to Aruba. I thought the question was odd. He said, “We’re swimming, ” which I found perfect. Turns out they were asking which airline. The answer? Spirit.
So, how about we head over to Spirit’s reviews, shall we?
“Most horrible airline… They are racist against disabled people, treat passengers like homeless and treat them like trash. Talks about them with other agents. They have no respect for their passengers. I will never ever fly with them. I jinx this airline.”
Nothing like a confidence boost before takeoff.
But hey, swim or Spirit—either way, we’re headed to turquoise water. So I’ll pack the sunscreen and the sarcasm. Let’s ride!
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 