Jas the jetsetter
So after the snowy Christmas antics of Aspen, we lived up New Year in Vegas and then MC (Mariah) took us on the third and final part of our adventure. Except it wasn't. We flew out of Vegas on New Year's Day to spend a few days in the Bahamas at Mariah's new, yet still uncompleted beach-front home. As we landed at the privately owned international airport, and were whisked from the plane through customs, I decided that I could get used to feeling this VIP-ish. This annual taste of the good life is the best.
However, my joy was short lived as we got to customs and realised that we'd arrived at the wrong airport. All of MC's escalades were waiting for us at the island's other airport, an hour away. So we drove to them, catching a great tour of the island en route, before arriving at what can only be described as paradise.
MC's home is like a more fabulous version of Richard Branson's Necker Island (which she was inspired by when I took her there three years ago, when I was filming Sir Richard's crib out there). Complete with an infinity pool to rival all infinity pools, and an open air dining area poolside, with a banquet-sized dining table and a turquoise colour theme scattered throughout its pure tropical bliss. As if that wasn't enough, the beach is covered in - wait for it - pink sand. Very appropriate for our princess, right?
But alas: All isn't always peace in heaven and moments later, the rain came and it was actually cold. Being optimistic, we thought it would clear up soon. It didn't. The following day was as wet and cold as England. Most people would try and make the most of a wet vacation. But Mariah isn't "most people". She, not wanting our festive annual vacation to end on a downer, decided we would go to wherever the sun is. "I know," she declared, "let's go to Jack's favourite spot: Puerto Rico!" So we re-packed, jumped back on her jet and whizzed off to San Juan, Puerto Rico, pretty much in the same way I'd catch a 207 bus from Southall to Shepherd's Bush.
We sailed out to one of MC's favourite places in the world: the island where she filmed the video for her classic hit, Honey. We always refer to the deserted island as the "Honey Island". It was tiny, tranquil and the turquoise sea around it reminded me of one of my favourite places in the world: Trinidad.
MC's personal trainer (Patricia from St Barts), had me, MC and Da Brat in the water doing hours of water exercises until the moon came up. At one point, the captain blew his whistle real hard and insisted we get back in the boat due to his concerns about the dark and a possible storm. You know I was the first one outta that water. I've watched way too many Jaws-like movies to know that whistle at sea equals danger. Back on the boat, we laid on the deck watching millions of shooting stars go by, and played our favourite boat game: concentration.
Now that my three weeks of VIP-dom were up, I practically had to be pulled off MC's jet as I gripped onto the plush, padded leather seats. But after much soothing and coaxing from her that we would see each other again soon, calm was restored and I reluctantly wafted down the jet steps back to my normal life. The next day I left the islands and flew to New York for a day before heading back to London.
In NYC, Estelle had arranged a pre-birthday dinner in my honour, which was lovely, as a great mix of my London and New York friends were there. Choreographer Royston, Musicworld's Daren Dixon, Rampage's Richie P, stylist to the stars Nadia Chin, Mariah's friend and backing vocalist Trey Lorenz and former Hot97 radio head honcho Tracy Cloherty (now head at K Rock), were all in the mix.
We ate too much, made way too much noise and a great night was had by all, as we took "adjective photos" for our Facebook pages. We paired up around the table and had to "act out the adjective". Richie and I were pretty good at "confused". Estelle and Charles weren't that great at "scared" but killed it with "hood". Worryingly, Royston and Nadia were very convincing with "seductive" and we all fell about shrieking and laughing until we got kicked out.
By the way, Estelle's new track American Boy is being killed on radio stations in the USA, and my American mates were all falling over themselves to meet her coz they "love her song!" How cool is that? Represent girlfriend.
Back in London, my neck smells of Mariah, my wrists smell of P Diddy and my feet smell of Usher. Not because I've been having a rambunctious threesome with hip-hop superstars, but because I'm trying out all their fragrances: body lotions and foot creams. Call it a bizarre need to use up all my goodie bags at once. I've turned into Willamina Slater from Ugly Betty; I want it all and I want it now. What a fabulous way to begin the year: by losing my mind. (Jasmine Dotiwala for The Voice Online)
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