He and his group took the necessary puddle jumper from St. Barths to St. Maarten, where they had every intention of transferring to a private plane home to the U.S. But, long story short, the flight couldn’t leave and, after knocking on one hotel door after another, his group found a vacancy. The next day, all flights were grounded, and his host decided to return by boat to St. Barths. “I’d rather be stuck in St. Barths than St. Maarten,” Rose says. “No offense to St. Maarten.”
At this point, Rose adds, “You have to just roll with it.” And roll he did, all the way to the castaway vibes and tropical beats. He was joined by “a pretty big-time model.” Ally Mason, if you’re wondering. “I think I annoyed the shit out of her,” says Rose.
At the fully booked hotels, people were also rolling with it. Luc Lanza, the CEO of Le Toiny, a Relais et Châteaux hotel, heard about the grounded flights on the morning of January 3 and started entreating guests to accept a modicum of hardship. He asked those with two villas—”one for the parents and one for the kids”—to cozy up in one with beds set up in the living room to free up space for other guests. “Actually, I was a bit surprised that people took it very easily,” he says. It may have helped that “people drank more than usual. Most of them were pleased with the situation.”
Jean-Georges Vongerichten, who has a house on the island and heads the Sand Bar restaurant at the Eden Rock hotel, says, “I’m glad I do food and not politics.” He found that no one seemed terribly bothered by the inconvenience, perhaps because the island was still well-stocked. “There’s no shortage of caviar,” he told me when I stopped him on Saline beach on Sunday.
A group of TikTok influencers from Australia stood next to their six aluminum Rimowa roller bags by the entrance of Eden Rock, waiting for their taxi and clutching a stack of euros. “We’re supposed to leave tomorrow,” one told me. “But I’m hoping we get stuck.”
Additional reporting by Elise Taylor.
Linda Wells
Source link