Polly Frost

FRIENDS IN PARADISE
by Polly Frost

As your plane lands you gaze happily out at the lush mountains, sparkling ocean and perfect skies. Did the flight attendant really announce it’s a delicious 72 degrees? You see the red tile roofs and gardens of the estates dotting this part of the world. You can’t help feeling envy at the carefree life your friends lead in this little stretch of paradise.

But you’re grateful they invited you to spend a week with them. You’ve left your city’s bitter winds, and dangerously icy highways. You reflect on all the money you saved by not paying for hotel rooms at a resort. At that moment you realize something wonderful: that nervous twitch you developed this winter has vanished!

And -- is that really a smile on your face? Yes. You’re thinking about all the people stuck back in your wintry city.

As you deplane and enter the adorable, crowd-free airport, you spot your friends: they’re tan, fit, looking a decade younger than you, even though you’re the same age. Your friends are damn lucky people.

Then, as you hug each other, they say:

“We’re so sorry about this terrible weather we’re having!”

You feel the wafting warm breezes and think they’re being funny. You laugh about the below-zero sleet you left behind. But your friends are most definitely not joking.

 “And there’s smog today.”

Their angry hands point at the azure horizon. You can’t see the noxious yellow, only a flock of seagulls merrily dipping and swirling.

They drive you in their pastel convertible along gorgeous, clear avenues giving you a tour of their perfect small city:

“The traffic here has gotten so bad!” they say, as you pass the first other car.

“The parking in this place has gotten unbearable!” as you glide down their upscale downtown’s main street.

“People have gotten incredibly rude!” as they nearly knock down a bicyclist.

You reach the tree-lined roads of their exclusive neighborhood, passing one exquisite villa after another.

“This place has been ruined.”

Your friends pull into their long, orange and mango tree-lined driveway. They walk you into their spacious, airy and Architectural Digest-ready mansion, and take you to your quarters. You marvel at your view of both a private beach and a hill studded with eucalyptus trees. You enthuse about hiking and swimming.

“You don’t want to go in the ocean. It’s been spoiled.”

“And you shouldn’t go into the hills unless you want to be bothered by flies.”

After you unpack your bags, you join them for an al fresco lunch on their bougainvillea draped terrace. You compliment them on their stunning location.

“We’re planning on moving,” they say. “We can’t take it anymore here.”

You are about to offer to exchange homes with them, but they’re rattling off the names of more perfect places: Santa Barbara, Sayulita, Maui...

You’re now feeling annoyed, even if your friends generously let you come to stay. But rather than make a snarky remark about how fortunate they are, you change the subject. Yet somehow they always take the conversation back to the hardship of maintaing their estate, their labrador retriever’s depression, the dreadful neighbors next door.

And then you feel it. That nervous twitch you thought you’d left back home.

Know what? You’re going to feel that twitch a lot during this visit. In just a few days you, too, will start complaining about the weather when it dips below 75, feel put upon by the three cars ahead of you at the stoplight, and worry about the longterm effects of that swim you took in the lapping waves of their ocean.

You may have thought it was hard eking out an existence in your chilly city. But at the end of this week your friends will convince you there’s nothing more stressful than living in paradise.

Copyright Polly Frost