Once upon a time, a high-spirited woman went to St. Maarten for a holiday and got herself in a bit of trouble. The nature of the trouble was never mentioned, but suffice it to say she was in sorry need of a knight in any kind of armor.
The hero arrived not on horseback, but by boat. A sailor named Mark hailing from the U.K. but residing most recently in the hamlet of Coral Bay on the island of St. John in the U.S. Virgin Islands witnessed the spectacle and bailed the lady out. "She started to go strange and we straightened her out," the modest Mark said with a shrug.
The good Mark's deeds did not go unnoticed. The damsel in distress turned out to be related to a certain Lord Gray (think Earl Gray tea) and Mark was richly rewarded with a title of his own. Thusly, Mark the Sailor became Lord Mark, Lord of Hillborough, Duke of Beltinge. The investiture ceremony was held at Coral Bay's unofficial town hall, the venerable Skinny Legs bar and grill. Most of the locals and a healthy number of donkeys were in attendance.
This story has absolutely nothing to do with me, except that I had the honor of having my picture taken with Mark just days before the Lordship Ceremony, when he was still a commoner, and it's a pretty good shot of what my hair looks like right now. (You didn't forget that it's all about hair, did you?) In addition, I like any story that illustrates the wackiness of St. John. Nobility in Coral Bay! Go figure.
The Tale of Lord Mark is also, I believe, more entertaining than the current reality, which is that I'm back at Jefferson's Imaging Center, getting pumped full of radioactive whatever and drinking the barium sulfate (Creamy Vanilla Smoothie Flavor!) in preparation for yet another PET scan. Three months have passed since treatment ended; now it's time for a week of follow-up tests. Anyone want to ride to the rescue?
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