Jenni

We arose very late on Saturday morning, got us some giant coffees at Dunkin Donuts, and headed toward my old hometown of Wheaton. It’s a tradition to drive through and see it every time I’m in the area.

i lived here for grades 1-5.

We drove through my old neighborhood and cute little downtown Wheaton, which is scarred irreparably by a Starbucks. We then headed to Portillo’s for lunch. I was thrilled to see that they now have a veggie sammich.

Very sleepy from lunch, we made our way into Wisconsin, with a quick stop for gas and naked ladies.

We checked into the hotel and then headed back out to pick up tickets, Wendy’s friend Rick, and grilling supplies. We arrived at Miller Field a mere hour or so before the game, in the rain, but this did not prevent us from getting our awesome tailgate on. We had plenty of company there, too. Milwaukeeans know how to party.

willis drinking a 40 from a plastic bag

that’s leftover deep-dish pizza on the grill!

wendy with a yard of berry weiss, smoking strawberry and tequila swisher sweets at the same time.
and she’s wearing a cape. yeah.

Post-tailgate, we headed toward the stadium, but were diverted at the Sausage Haus. We went in to use the restrooms, and they were blasting ‘Party Like a Rock Star’ at ear-bleeding volumes. We didn’t know it then, but this was some serious Wisconsin foreshadowing.

Miller Stadium is amazing. It has a retractable roof (which was closed due to rain, but that was alright), and is designed really well, in a way that makes me very excited for the open-air stadium here. Also, they have sausage races. We saw two of the sausages going up in the elevator, both leaning folded-over on the people in there with them. It was hysterical.

We found our seats and somehow ended up drinking Sparks again, for reasons only Wisconsin understands. Round about the fourth or fifth inning, Willis and Matt and I got up to go to the bathroom, and then decided to check out the outdoor bar. It was there we met Bobby Chicago and his girlfriend, the people sitting next to us at the game. Bobby and I both grew up in Wheaton, and he told me how everybody thinks he’s hardcore because he’s from the 187 (the zipcode is 60187). They introduced us to the Captain Bomb, and we possibly didn’t realize how long we were out there until Wendy texted, wondering where the hell we were.

We went back inside just in time to catch the sausage races and the end of the game. The Brewers had a pretty spectacular win, and we stuck around for a bit afterward watching to see if the Cubs fans who showed up just to aggravate the crowd would get their asses kicked. There were a couple people escorted out by the cops, but that’s about it. Also, it’s pretty funny to see the difference in the baseball crowds between Chicago and Milwaukee. As we all know, Wisconsin = booze.

We made plans with Bobby Chicago to meet up after the game, and headed to the store to shop. We stopped again at the Sausage Haus on the way back to the parking lot, and this time I found Wendy a son. He was laying on the floor under the sinks on one of those little-league photo buttons. She named him Jacob.

Since there was a line of traffic waiting to get out of the lot (admittedly, a very short line, but we’ll take any excuse), we decided to continue tailgating for a while. We ended up blasting Minneapolis hiphop with all the car doors open and dancing in the parking lot. After that, Rick drove us to the Safe House.

I cannot really express how awesome the Safe House is, so you should probably just go. We all whispered the password and passed our $5 to the girl in the entryway, happily escaping the customary televised ridicule of people who had never been there.

We shared a giant drink called the Mission Impossible, explored as much of the place as we could figure out how to access, went in the sound-effects phone booth, touched Burt Reynolds there, and a couple of us may have gotten up to naughty bidness in the downstairs hallway. Possibly.

We finally found ourselves sitting next to the dance floor, and then there was dancing to things like ‘Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy’ followed by ‘Crazy Bitch’ (best two-song playlist ever!), ‘Fergalicious’, ‘Sexyback’, and, yes, ‘Party Like a Rock Star’. The floor was so sticky that my flipflops kept adhering to it; I’d dance out of one of them, then have to dance back toward it to retrieve it again. There was a bachelorette party going on next to us, complete with a male stripper with his boxer-briefs on inside out (they dubbed him Skidmark). And there was also Black Derek, but I cannot possibly explain about that. All I remember was his shirt, and the fact that he was there dancing on the stairs with us.

I have no idea what time we got back to the hotel, because I was sleeping in the backseat most of the way there. I have vague memories of them getting lost, and apparently that did actually happen. Oh, Wisconsin.

Sunday morning, we slowly got our stuff into the car and headed toward Madison. By the time we got there, we had plans for at least four breakfasts, but ended up only having one. Thankfully, it was awesome: Mickie’s Dairy Bar. I’m still amused that the last time we ate there, we didn’t even notice that it was across the street from Camp Randall.

Our second breakfast was to be at a place called Bennett’ Smut-and-Eggs, but it was sadly missing. Wendy found out afterward that it closed earlier this year.

The rest of the way home, we laughed about Black Derek. I seriously couldn’t stop, to the point that it was painful. We’d be quiet for 5 minutes, and then someone would mention something about him again. He attained legendary status, and was either a ninja or Chuck Norris by the time we got home. Possibly both.

If you know a dude in Milwaukee whose name probably isn’t Derek and was at the Safe House Saturday night, you should probably have him give us a call.

[View the entire Flickr photoset from this trip here!]

We left Minnesota postwork on Thursday and headed north in the Dead Hooker. The Nodakia crew consisted of me, Matt, Cindi, Jumi, and Wendy. We were raucous. I have a video of Wendy laughing so hard she can’t see, which is bad considering she was driving.

We stopped at a few truck stops along the way, but for the most part made the 530-mile drive straight through. We pulled into Cindi’s parents’ driveway close to 2am, and headed to our respective sleeping-spots as quickly as possible, after arranging Cindi’s stuffed animals in a creepy manner so she could cuddle.

Matt and I got her sister’s old bed. It squeaked. We were careful.

Cindi’s mom made us breakfast out on the patio, and the local DJ dedicated a song to us on KCAD. It was then it was time to get in some nature before the party began. We headed west, to Theodore Roosevelt National Park, and decided to do some hiking. Since we hadn’t really planned on hiking, none of us were prepared; we had no water, and I was wearing flipflops. But I’ve been in much worse situations before.

painted canyon, in the badlands

cindi and matt on the trail

my awesome flipflop tan

We hiked down to the bottom of the canyon, wandered around for a while, then had to hike back out. It wasn’t easy. We got to the top and all had to rest for a while. It was hot and dry, and we were thankful for the warm outdoor drinking fountain.

Further west, we passed the Home on the Range for Wayward Boys:

Then we drove to the Montana border, since neither Wendy nor Jumi had been there before.

matt in montana, while we were in north dakota

we took turns riding in the trunk

We then turned around and headed to the Medora exit, to see the cute little town Cindi had been telling us about. It was full-on western. We had lunch at the Cowboy Cafe, because they served buffalo. Ick.

horse tongue!

matt’s buffalo steak

We wandered around, stopping into a few shops, and then Wendy rode the mechanical bull. We also had beers at the Iron Horse Pub, and sat out on the patio in the glorious weather. Well, I laid on the bench there. They didn’t seem to mind. It was perfect.

Late in the afternoon, it was time to head back to Dickinson. We took a spin through another part of the park first, to see the prairie dog villages (note: Jumi is scared of prairie dogs!) and look for buffalo. We didn’t see any (presumably because they’d eaten them all at the Cowboy Cafe), but we did see a very, very excited male horse. We couldn’t stop talking about it.

Back in Dickinson, it was rodeo time. I’d never been to a rodeo before, so I had no clue what to expect.

cowboy with a cellphone

We got our programs and started putting money on the riders, though none of us actually ended up settling our bets afterward. Matt opened his program and said, “hey, mine’s signed already!” Deb got very excited, because apparently that meant he won something. When they did drawings later, his prize was revealed: a championship belt buckle. SO AWESOME.

calf roping

this kid spent half the rodeo glaring at us. he was hysterical.

I’m glad I got to see the rodeo, but I’m glad I don’t have to go see one again. I kind of felt bad for the animals, especially the calves for roping.

We went to dinner with Cin’s parents at the Crunchy Kitten, where Terry couldn’t stop giggling over double-entendres. Afterward, we headed downtown (sans parents) to Uncle Ron’s Spur Bar, where crappy karaoke was in full swing.

wendy’s $3 beer

We were kind of bored with the place, so we decided to go to Army’s West instead. That may have been a mistake on a few levels.

1) a girl told Jumi they didn’t play much hip-hop there (presumably because she’s black)
2) they had long islands in pitchers that they just served with a bunch of straws
3) there was a crazy lesbian (presumably on meth) on the dance floor that scared everyone
4) they played the ‘Numa Numa’ song (which is the reason we decided to finally leave)
5) lots of potential date-rape action going on with the dancing.

ICK. However, we rocked the naked lady matching game. A lot.

Saturday, June 30, 2007 will forever be remembered as the day we invented Fuzzy Tang. Before then, I didn’t even know that sugar-free Tang existed.

We carried our creation to the Roughrider Days parade, where we met up with Cindi’s parents and uncle Mike, who’d arrived very early to save us a good spot. Since we were still early, we took advantage of the $2 long islands that Ponderosa Liquors and Wildlife Gallery was selling right behind where we sat. Very soon, we had bathroom-related emergencies, and one of the locals took us into the beauty salon to pee. We loved Dickinson.

The parade was awesome, as expected. There were Shriners in little cars, class reunion floats, Denny Halsted the rodeo clown (the two-time Canadian entertainer of the year!), gigantic tractors, candy raining from flatbed trucks, and mardi gras beads.

Also, a “you’re going to hell, sinners!” float. That was my favorite. You don’t see that much ’round these parts.

After the parade, we went to Dan’s supermarket for beverages and such, and it was there that we discovered NOBBYS, the coated-peanut snack that’s the worst thing you’ve ever tasted, and yet you can’t stop eating them. We went back to Cindi’s parents’ house for lunch, and were joined by Cindi’s aunt Rosemary, possibly the coolest old person we’d ever met. She told us she was a pimp, and called her garden hoe ‘velvet’. It was confusingly awesome.

We took a nap, and then part of the group headed to look at scary cemeteries while Jumi and I sat on the patio, knitting. Michelle, Dustin, and Gavin arrived; we played with fireworks and monkey nuts in the backyard until it was time to go back downtown for the main event.

matt’s blue balls

wendy having a time-out

gavin’s smoke bombs

We piled in the Dead Hooker and headed downtown to the Party on the Pavement. We’d heard rumors about it, and were very excited to experience it ourselves. We began at Bernie’s Esquire (rentadrinkingbuddy.com), where we played some naked ladies, met some dude Cindi went to high school with, and got ourselves nuzzled by Bernie. He’s related to her somehow, just like everybody in Dickinson.

We went down to the other end of the blocked-off street to see the band, but they were having technical difficulties. We decided to check out the Eagles Club, where we signed the guestbook, turned off all the lights in one side of the bar while trying to ride on the motorized chair installed in the stairwell, and pissed off the people at the class of 1987 reunion by visiting their special bar. Then we went to the ladies’ room and met probably the only black girl to live in Dickinson. She told us about her favorite cocktail: Hpnotiq and Grey Goose. You drink it, and all the old guys go HOLLA!

What else could we do? The bartender asked, “you know that’s two kinds of liquor, right?” Duh. We even got one of the rodeo cowboys at the end of the bar to try Hpnotiq. As expected, it was absolutely terrible. And so we loved it. HOLLA!

We took our drinks outside, and by then the band was playing. Half the city was standing in a half-circle in the street, about 50 feet from the stage. This was confusing; apparently North Dakotans don’t know how to party, but we did: We took up spots right in front and started dancing (as is my wont, I danced barefoot). The band was none other than Bismarck’s finest cover band, 7 Tall. We loved them, and were suitably outraged that they had to remove ‘Crazy Bitch’ from their setlist. It had bad words in it, after all.

the autographed 7tall setlist

After the band finished, we hung out talking to them for a bit, and then Cindi wandered off with the high school dude to do dirty things in a port-a-potty. We went back into the Eagles Club. Matt and I visited the handicapped stall in the ladies’ room together for, uh, moral support. Yeah. While he went to go use the men’s bathroom, I busied myself with digging through drawers in the banquet room. I have no idea why, it just seemed like good entertainment at the time. While we were doing that, Wendy was upstairs almost getting into a fight with the class of 1987. When the guy almost jumped on her, she knocked his drink out of his hand and took off.

DICKINSON RULES.

We returned to Bernie’s just in time for last call, then everybody piled out into the streets to stagger around, shouting at each other. We finally regrouped, and Wendy, Jumi, and Cindi headed to the NoDak Motel for a lesbian pool party (you’ll have to have one of them explain), while Matt and I went back to the house to take advantage of nobody else being around. We didn’t hear them get home sometime after 3am.

We got up Sunday morning and sat downstairs giggling about events of the previous night until we heard a weird squeaking sound coming from Cindi’s room. I went to look and she was halfway off the bed, trying to get our attention. She had almost no voice, and proceeded to throw up in a garbage can. She won at North Dakota.

We had breakfast and packed up the Dead Hooker for the return trip. We were all fairly hung over, so the drive back seemed even longer. And we had to stop and see the giant buffalo in Jamestown, of course.

We also saw the famous white buffalo, which apparently means that the buffalo burgers they ate in Medora were not from the last buffalo on earth. Just the second-to-last.

After the buffalo, we couldn’t get back to civilization fast enough. That doesn’t mean we’re not going back for Roughrider Days next year!

[To see the entire Flickr photoset from this trip, go here!]

Sunday morning at 3:00am (which was still technically Saturday night), I dragged myself out of bed, tearfully said goodbye to my boyfriend (the trip had been booked long before we were dating, or I wouldn’t have subjected myself to an entire week without him), and drove to my mom’s house to catch a ride to the airport. Wendy, Stephanie, and I piled our gigantic suitcases into the sexy red Neon, and we headed to the airport.

I don’t remember much of the flight, except that Wendy and I probably giggled like retards, and our flight attendants were named Ginger and Mike. I only know this because it’s the first entry in my travel journal. In Philadelphia (the flight wasn’t exactly direct), the pilot told us we were 17th in line to take off. I’m pretty sure Crashy Airlines (i.e. AirTran) doesn’t often get precedence on the runway.

wendy examining the map of st thomas

We arrived uneventfully and only a tiny bit late. Outside the airport, we got ourselves a cab and rode to Port Everglades; it’s about a 10-minute ride, and cost $15. It’s kind of ridiculous that the shuttles charge $20+ a person.

Porters at the entrance to the dock took our bags, and we headed into the embarkation area. There was a long line, but it moved fast, plus everybody was just really damn excited to be going on a cruise. We gave them our tickets, registered our credit cards, and headed toward the ship. They took a really gay picture of us holding a lifesaver, gave us handwipes for our own personal cleanliness, and suddenly we were on the ship.

We stood in the lobby, not really knowing where to go. It’s so huge and ornate that’s confusing. We asked a crew member, and were pointed in the direction of our cabin, where Wendy’s birthday surprise awaited us:

birthday cake for wendy, a card from the captain, and champagne.

The champagne didn’t last long, and the fact that there were only two glasses wasn’t really a problem for us. We scrambled around the cabin, investigating every very exciting thing we could find (the tiny bathroom, the minibar, the cruise itinerary, the note from our cabin steward, who was quickly renamed Il Duce for reasons that are still unclear). The minibar was locked, so putting in a request to have it unlocked was our first order of business.

They had put us at the regular instead of the late dinner, so we set off to find the maitre d’s station, as noted on the map. They switched our mealtime, and we set off to wander around the ship until it was time for the muster drill.

docked at ft lauderdale

Promptly at 4:30pm, we put on our very sexy lifejackets and headed to our muster station. They lined us up three deep, and we tried really hard to restrain our laughter. The ship started moving, and just then, a little boat sped past us on the way out of the harbor. The girls screamed and flashed their tits. We hooted. The others around us were not as excited.

muster drill

lobby bar

We went up to one of the top decks to check out the view leaving Florida, and of course attend to the important business of getting us some cocktails. The bartender made me a mojito with Equal instead of sugar, and I’m pretty sure the guys behind the bar were the nicest people we’d ever met.

leaving ft lauderdale, with mojito

We sat out on the back deck watching the land receding, then found a table where it was less windy. The bartender came and asked if we wanted another round, remembering both my name and my drink. We were instantly in love with the cruise.

We went to our cabin to unpack before dinner, then went to explore the ship some more. At that point, it seemed incomprehensible that we’d ever learn how to get around it all. There are still a few places I’m pretty sure we didn’t manage to see over the course of the week. We did a great job of finding awesome hangouts, though.

Dinner was at 8:30, and there were people lined up outside the doors of the two-level restaurant when we got there. We had an 8-person table, so we were seated with a family from Chicago. They had two really cute little girls, who were both dozing off on the table by the end of the meal.

They brought us another bottle of champagne at dinner, to celebrate Wendy’s birthday. We shared it with our tablemates. Then the food started arriving, and holy crap. It seemed natural to pick out one item for every course on the menu, but it was SO MUCH FOOD. There was even a sugar-free dessert.

We wandered around after dinner, looking for a bar with no smoking. There were a bunch of old people tangoing in the piano bar, and we stopped there for a drink. It was a pretty boring bar, and we made a point of dissing it every time we walked through for the rest of the cruise. Hey, the piano guy was not awesome at all. It happens.

We went into the club, which had just opened to the public for the night; it had been singles’ night before that, and now it was time for DANCETERIA 3000 (I just made that up). We had awesome shots called the Woo-Woo, and then Wendy and I headed downstairs to the light-up dance floor. There was a huge projection on one wall that was just film of people on the ship and excursions. So funny. There was hardly anyone there at all, and we slowly realized that most of the people dancing were actually crew members. They’re there to get people involved!

Stephanie didn’t want to dance, so we headed down to a lounge at the other end of the ship (one for which we were predestined, but we didn’t know that yet). The old white-haired doctor was sitting near the bar, drinking, surrounded by ladies. It was awesome.

We didn’t sleep very well the first night because of the rocking of the boat, so we awoke fairly early and went up to breakfast at the buffet. I was thrilled because it was definitely European-style: fruit, croissants, and cheese. Also, gruel. I still daydream about it sometimes.

Sigh. Gruel.

We went down to one of the lounges to try out Super Quiz. We’re generally pretty good at trivia, but it was definitely geared towards old people; there are only so many Rat Pack questions younger people can answer. Team Awesome did alright, though.

After trivia, we decided to go lay out in the sun on deck chairs. I dozed off while reading. After an hour or so, Stephanie and Wendy were starting to turn colors. We went in to have lunch at the buffet, and were far too excited about the many, many dining options, including sugar-free dessert. We went back to our freezing cabin (we set it that way intentionally), stuffed, and Stephanie declared that she felt like a roofied cube steak. Our room instantly became the meat locker, and naptime was henceforth ‘meat locker time’. We made sure to have some every day, and this always involved turning on the TV to the boat channel that showed where we were in the Caribbean, and had Italian opera playing in the background.

I don’t really recall when this part happened, but we were apparently drunk in the afternoon that day. I have a photo of me giving Wendy the finger while she’s sitting with the minibar door open. Given the time we spent on the cruise, however, us being drunk was not a surprise. It was more shocking to be totally sober after noon.

We went to go play canasta in the card room, an activity that would also become a daily ritual. We’d sit in the same area, order drinks from the same waiters (who we got to know pretty well), watch our favorite bartenders, eat boatsnacks (the spicy peanuts were the best), put our feet up on the fancy chairs, and play cards. It was awesome. This particular time, there was a group of old people playing, too, and they were thrilled that we knew how to play canasta.

mojito!

Later in the afternoon, we went to the casino and played video poker for a while. Stephanie won, and bought us another round of drinks. (My travel journal at this point says “quadriplegic”. I’m not sure what that’s about, and that’s probably for the best!) We went to go tour more of the ship, and found the library, where the computers were. I sat down and emailed Matt to let him know we were alive, and find out how the Gophers were doing in the NCAA tournament. Let’s just say I was glad I wasn’t home to see it.

We went back to the cabin to get Wendy’s special water (Patron in a plastic bottle). Wendy and Stephanie examined their sunburns. Around dinnertime, we went back to the buffet; the main restaurant is nice, but it’s so much food, and takes a couple hours for dinner. We only ate there twice during the cruise. We had various items, including pizza, and ate out on the back deck under the canopy. It had rained during the evening, so the deck was wet. Also, the darkness on the ocean is kind of amazing. You can’t see anything else around you, just the lights of your own ship.

After dinner, we returned to our new favorite bar. The bartenders were Rodrigo and Casanova (he had a real name, but it was Bar Casanova, and that suited him better). Wendy had a major crush, because they were awesome. We sat and watched the goofy show going on behind us, and then suddenly the bar was full of people exiting the show in the theatre. The cruise entertainment staff was dressed up in Elvis-era clothing. One of the dudes let me feel his rubber Elvis hair.

Deborah, our ‘English-speaking hostess’ from Australia, was all over the place. We loved her, her awesome accent, and the fact that she told us that the cruise ship can afford to lose 10% of its passengers in ports (if, for example, they’re late back to the boat). She did a round of shots with us, and taught us a new toast that would change our lives forever:

UP THE BUM, NO BABIES!!

She left us with, “see you at the disco!” and headed off to harangue the doctor, who was again at the end of the bar.

wendy and, uh… never mind.

We went back to the cabin, fully intending to go to the 50s dance party at the club. But when we got there, I found couch cushions stashed under the bed, so of course we had to do the obvious: play American Gladiators. This also became a daily tradition. Wendy laid down on her bed, so I beat on her with cushions. We never made it to the dance party.

We got up at 10 and had breakfast at our usual table, which was against the window so we could see the ocean. There were birds diving into the water, fishing, so we stood and watched them for a long time.

We sat out on the deck reading in the sun until it started to rain, then went to play canasta in the card room. There was a big group of old people from Long Island in there, arguing loudly. Since it was close enough to noon, we decided to have some drinks. Wendy set out on a mission to consume everything on the cocktail menu. It was substantial, so we all pitched in.

As we were eating lunch, we started to see land. We went up to the top deck to watch the approach to Puerto Rico, and then ran to our cabin to grab our things and line up for our first stop in San Juan. It was very exciting, and we were prepared.

san juan, puerto rico

We got off the boat around 4:30, after standing in line for almost half an hour. They were handing out ponchos as we left, even though it had stopped raining. In the customs building (where we expected to have to show our passports or something, but no), we were handed free samples of Bacardi, and a million flyers for local services.

We got our bearings and set off up the hill to San Cristobal. We couldn’t actually go into the fort, because there was a long line of army trucks exiting, but we walked around the back of it to overlook the ocean. It was gorgeous. I took approximately 10,000 photos.

san cristobal

We walked along Boulevard Del Valle toward El Morro, following my map. I loved the colors of the buildings, and the overlook from the city wall.

off boulevard del valle

mercado street

We got to El Morro just as San Felipe castle was closing, but that was fine; we wanted to cover as much ground as possible before it got dark. We took seats on some rocks near the castle and watched the sun set over the ocean.

Grateful for the fact that domestic rates still applied in Puerto Rico, I called Matt. I missed him a lot. Also, I give props to Wendy and Stephanie, who had to hear about how much I missed him at least a million times over the course of that week. They were very nice about it.

We headed back toward old San Juan, stopping to see the city gate and the cathedral. There were wild cats wandering everywhere.

plazuela de rogativa

the moon and san juan cathedral

Once it got dark, we decided to find dinner. There were a couple recommendations in our guide, so we walked to both of them and found them closed. We wandered all over the place looking, and were kind of dying of hunger. Before stopping, we ran into a liquor store and I picked up a couple bottles of rum to bring home.

We decided on a place called Lupi’s, which had Mexican food and a sports-bar atmosphere. We had amazing margaritas and tostones (on the menu as ‘plantain nachos’). For dinner, I had enchiladas, and I asked the bartender what the best rum in Puerto Rico was. He said it was Don Q, and made me the best Cuba Libre ever. After eating, we scooted down the bar to play Naked Ladies (you may know this as ‘Erotic Photo Hunt’ on Megatouch machines). We couldn’t have been more excited to find it in a bar in the Caribbean, and the dudes sitting along the wall behind us were quite amused.

After dinner, we headed to the destination toward which we’re inexplicably drawn: Señor Frog’s. Wendy had never been there, after all.

They had a slightly different drink policy than other Señor Frog’s: instead of having a pre-set selection of drinks in yard glasses, you could get anything you wanted. Premium liquors ran $17.50 a yard. It was like Christmas!! We took full advantage; I had a Cuba Libre with Diet Coke, Stephanie had a Long Island, and Wendy had a scary-looking fruity thing. We had Frog Legs shots, then something blue. Behind the bar, they were having contests for free shots. It was typical Señor Frog’s, which is to say: awesome.

Debating whether to order another round, Wendy announced, “hey, we’re not driving! Captain Giuseppe is!” We ordered, then asked our server if it was ok to bring drinks outside in San Juan. She told us sure, that anything goes! I told her I loved her. On the way out, though, the doorman told us no, we had to drink them inside. We sat near the entrance finishing our yards as the DJ played Sexyback. We loved Puerto Rico a lot.

no black men in the water.

We headed back toward the ship, stopping at a mailbox to drop off postcards. I may have been somewhat drunk, as I kept asking Wendy if we’d mailed our postcards yet, even though we’d just done so. When we got near the dock, Stephanie said, “what’s that thing floating in the water?” I yelled, “THERE’S A BLACK MAN IN THE WATER???” I may never live that down.

We boarded the ship, and had to show our passports to the security guards. I was nervous because I had bottles of liquor in my bag, and they’re supposed to take them and keep them for us until we returned to the US. They didn’t say a thing while xraying our bags, though, and they were amused by our collection of yard glasses. We staggered to our cabin, and didn’t even hear the boat’s giant whistle leaving port.

We were up at 6am to prepare for our excursion in St. Thomas, but the ship wasn’t there yet. We got dressed, washed out our many yards in the shower, and put them in the closet. We had breakfast as we were arriving in port.

As instructed, we went down to the Osiris Theatre to gather for our excursion. They gave us numbered stickers, and we sat waiting for our group to be called so we could all leave together. We got off the ship and walked a short way to a waiting catamaran called the Dancing Dolphin. The captain introduced himself and his two assistants, and we were off.

We sat on the deck with our feet dangling over the water for our hour-long trip to the island where we’d be snorkeling. It was unbelievable. The skies had been overcast, but the sun came out right as we neared our destination. The girls on the boat were handing out snorkeling gear, and the captain announced that it was their intention that this excursion would be the most fun we’d have on our entire cruise. We were somewhat doubtful about that, primarily due to how early it was in the morning, and the fact that we weren’t swimming yet.

They gave us some basic instruction, taught us the sign for SOS, and then it was time to go. We had the option of jumping off the side of the boat or going down the steps into the water. We chose the steps.

One of the girls led us around the inlet, showing us where to find sea turtles, pointing out features of the reef, and feeding the fish so they’d swim around us. She told us that if we put our heads underwater, we’d be able to hear the sound of parrotfish biting pieces off the coral. They sounded exactly like Rice Krispies popping.

Wendy and I had both purchased cheap underwater camera cases that were little more than a thick ziplock bag with a plexiglas lens cover. Terrified of destroying my camera, I’d tested mine multiple times in the sink to make sure it didn’t leak. Though it was a little difficult to work the camera controls, it was one of the smartest purchases I’d made for the cruise. I’m so glad I had it for swimming with sea turtles.

the dancing dolphin

When it was time to head back, we got on the boat and were promptly handed glasses of rum punch. The second our glasses were half-empty, they’d hand us another glass of rum punch. Suddenly, we understood what they meant about this being the best time we’d have the whole cruise.

pouring some out for our absent homies

The girls working on the boat were awesome. They came around, applying temporary tattoos, and making sure our drinks were constantly full. We met some dudes who were passing out beer they’d found at the bar. One of them had a temporary tattoo on his forehead.

We quickly learned that they were Brad and Jamie, brothers-in-law from Tampa Bay. They were with their families, including a bunch of kids and grandpa. We loved them. By the time we got off the boat, we’d been invited back to their room for a party. Wendy and I had to split up the numbers of the cabin so we’d remember it: I took 72, and she took 92. We were drunk and sunburnt and it was only 10am. It was the best day ever.

We went back to our cabin to change quickly, then headed out again. We walked to the Skyride, for which we had pre-purchased tickets on the ship. We rode up to Paradise Point, taking pictures the whole way.

our ship, with charlotte amalie across the bay

There was shopping and a bar up at the top. I called Matt again while watching a lady wrangling a bunch of parrots and cockatoos. They kept yelling ‘hello!’ at me whenever I walked past. I’m not sure if he understood a lot of what I was saying, because it’d been a very long morning already. We bought souvenirs and sat in the shade at the overlook, because the sunburn was getting critical. We were all feeling kind of ill from the heat.

Once we started to feel better, we set off on a very important mission: our friends Bill and Katie had been there just a week earlier, and they’d left us a note under a rock at the top of the hill. We had specific directions from Bill on how to find it.

It was unbelievably hot and humid, and we were already dehydrated from the rum punch. As we climbed the nature trails and up above the gazebo, we were pretty sure we were going to die. Wendy and I split my entire bottle of water in just a few minutes. But we found the note, and left another one in case someone else should happen by. It read, “Hello, strangers! This is what happens when awesome worlds collide.” We included an email address.

We climbed back down to the shops and headed to the bar.

Why? Because we needed some limin’, a Bushwacker, and a Blowjob in Paradise, of course. They came with ugly souvenir glasses and everything!

On our way back down the skyride, we rode with a lady who was on our 44th cruise. She was a wedding planner from Boston, and showed us the bon voyage necklace she’d gotten for her first cruise at 21 years old. Holy crap. It would have been pretty awesome, but she also seemed kind of nuts.

We rushed back to the dock and got there right at cutoff time, but there were still several people arriving. We went to our cabin for the best meat locker time ever: TV turned to the boat-map channel, Italian opera playing quietly in the background (we liked to believe it was the captain singing as he steered the ship), us napping in our freezing-cold room. I have to confess, I do still crave meat locker time occasionally. As usual, we were asleep by the time the ship left port, and we didn’t feel it moving.

We awoke at 6:30pm and went up to the buffet for dinner. Wendy and I were both sick from sunburn (and possibly rum punch), so we had to force ourselves to eat and drink water. We went down to the card room and played canasta for a while, saw Rodrigo and Casanova, and were done by 10:30. We were exhausted. We showered off the smell of sea turtles and went to bed.

We got up at 7am and had breakfast, then hung out on the deck watching the approach to the Dominican Republic. It was sunny and perfect outside, which was good, because it was time for the beach.

They loaded us all into tender boats (which also happened to be the lifeboats), and ferried us to Catalina Island.

i hold to the belief that ‘beach chairs are free’ is the dominican national motto.

It was perfect. There were beach chairs and umbrellas for everyone, waiters bringing drinks to us on the beach, and lunch served in a big pavilion in the midst of palm trees. We spent very little time in our chairs, and most of it just floating around in the ocean.

sport cup with strawberry daiquiri

There were tiny jellyfish that would sting us occasionally, and they managed to chase Stephanie out of the water. Wendy and I spent at least three hours just bobbing around, and swimming up and down the beach. I also made a point of taking off my bathing suit in the ocean and holding it above my head.

We had a picnic lunch at noon, then went back into the ocean until it was time to go around 2:30. Though we kept reapplying sunscreen, Wendy was getting even more burnt. It looked painful.

The rain arrived just as it was time to go. We got back on the tender boats, and were in our cabins by 3pm. We showered and examined our awesome sunburns, then went to go have a snack before it was time to get off the ship again. We went to Bar Casanova and got drinks; I ordered a Cuba Libre and Rodrigo asked, “Would you like a strong one?” Yes, please!

We went to the card room to play canasta, and the crabby lady running SuperQuiz in the next room shushed us for laughing too loudly. We saw that we were nearing the port at Casa de Campo, so we ran downstairs to line up, and were in the first group off the ship.

I’d done some research about the Dominican Republic, and read that Altos de Chavon, the only excursion destination, was basically a fake tourist village. While almost everyone on the ship was going there, we decided to follow the internet’s advice and go into the town of La Romana. We grabbed a cab with another couple, and the driver took us into town.

We talked to the couple about where to go; the map indicated a central square with shops in the area, so we all decided to go there. When we got near there, though, the driver didn’t want to let us out. He was apparently planning to drive us around on an hour-long tour for $5/person, stop at some shops, and then bring us back to the ship. We didn’t like that idea at all. We finally convinced him to let us out, but the couple decided to go along with him. They were intimidated by the scene at the central square: it was most definitely a very poor city.

We got out of the cab and stood on the street, trying to get our bearings. A man approached us immediately and said, “I’m one of the people who helps people get around!” and asked us where we wanted to go. We thanked him and told him we didn’t need help, and set off in the direction the cab had gone. We were clearly the only Americans around.

We had walked two blocks and were waiting at an intersection when a bus pulled up . A man hanging out of the doorway jumped off and said hi. It was the same dude again! He said he had seen that we were headed toward a very bad neighborhood, and wanted to stop us. He told us his name was Johnny, and he could show us the best stores to visit.

We agreed, but very warily. I could tell Stephanie and Wendy wanted nothing to do with him, but I figured that he’d have trouble raping and murdering all three of us before we could fight back. Plus I was sure he was just trying to make some cash, so that was fine. We set off with him in another direction, the two of them hanging back while I walked with him.

I heard Johnny’s entire life story on the way to the tourist shop. He was 34, and had a 14-year-old daughter. He asked right away if I had a husband. We talked a lot about how the Dominican Republic loses all of its good baseball players to the US. He led us carefully down the sidewalk, warning us to watch out for holes, which were actually large enough for people to fall inside. I wanted to go slower and see everything, but at the same time, I was really happy to hurry. La Romana was very different, and intimidating.

He took us to a store, and it had everything we were looking for. (This fact made me trust him a lot more, too.) I was in search of Mama Juana to bring back with me, and Wendy wanted a cigar for her boss. They had Mama Juana in all manner of different bottles and sizes, none of them marked clearly. The shopkeeper came to help us, pouring out a sample of the stuff. It was awesome. He told me that once the bottle was empty, I could just refill it with any kind of rum, and it would last forever. That’s already been proven true!

Also in the shop, we ran into the only other Americans we’d see in La Romana. They were two girls from Kansas, there on a missionary trip. Eesh.

Johnny tried to take us to another shop, but it was already closed by the time we got there. Men were yelling at us from across the street (we called it the ‘gringo alarm’), and he almost got into a fight with a couple guys he passed. We were jumping over holes in the sidewalk, and rushing to follow him.

He told us that La Romana was so poor because the government didn’t want tourists there. They built Casa de Campo and Altos de Chavon for cruise ship passengers, and would do things like shut off the electricity in the city to discourage people from visiting. It was nearing 7pm, and we could tell that the city was shutting down. We asked him if there was a bar where we’d feel welcome, so he led us to La Tinaja. I found it on the map while we sat there, and it was only a couple blocks from the spot where the taxi driver had dropped us off.

Johnny ordered us a couple beers, then told us he had to run and do something, so he’d be back in a bit to take us to get a cab. After he left, we were told they didn’t take credit cards, and couldn’t give change for dollars. We had no local currency (the travel guides swore up and down that American dollars were wanted there, and the cab and shop took both credit cards and cash, so we didn’t think much of it). We told them they could just keep the whole $20, but they got the guy we presumed to be the manager, and he calculated out the exchange rate for our money and gave us pesos in return. We sat there staring at our 510 Dominican pesos, with absolutely no clue how much it was worth, or whether we had enough for a cab back to the ship.

Decisions had to be made, and quickly. Johnny was coming back at some point, and we felt we’d be better off taking the opportunity to escape without him. Since we had no idea about the cost of a cab, we decided we’d walk. The travel guide said it was only about a mile from the port to town, and I had paid careful attention to the way we’d come in the cab. We knew which way to go, had a good map, and were determined to get out of the DR alive, with our 510 pesos or without.

It was quite dark by the time we’d crossed the bridge over the river where our ship was docked. We stood there and looked at it, because it was very nearby. We just needed to figure out exactly which streets to take to get there. We walked past the baseball fields and headed toward the road the taxi had turned from to get to La Romana. The sidewalk disappeared and turned into a little dirt trail worn in the grass alongside the road, which was crowded, and cars honked at us constantly. By the time we were crossing a train trestle on a narrow piece of concrete, with a train rumbling by beneath us, we were all at wit’s end. The constant honking and lack of a place to walk was freaking us out a lot. But we could see the road from there, so we kept going.

A man pulled up alongside us on a motorcycle, and started yelling. We indicated that we didn’t speak Spanish. Honestly, I’m capable of understanding quite a bit of Spanish, but I couldn’t pick out a single word in his Dominican accent. Finally, he communicated to us that we should turn around, and take the path near the baseball fields. We’d crossed a sidewalk in that area a while back, and noticed some people walking there, so we’d wondered about it already. We headed back on the narrow trail, crossing the train trestle again.

When we got to that path, the guy on the motorcycle was waiting. He pointed down the road past the baseball fields, in the direction of our ship. We thanked him and headed that way. It led through a run-down neighborhood with barely any lights on, but there were people sitting out on their porches watching us pass. It felt extremely hostile, and we just kept walking as fast as we could toward the port, which we could now easily see. The only problem was that there was also a large fence at the end of the road, and in front of the fence, a bunch of guys sitting on motorbikes. We didn’t have any other good ideas, though, so we just kept walking.

We got to the end of the road near the motorcycles, and there was obviously no gate in the tall fence. There was a baseball field to the right, between us and the ship. One of the guys approached, and we asked him if he knew how to get to the ship. We couldn’t understand him, either, but he started leading us through the baseball diamond. We followed, sinking into the muddy clay, because it had rained that afternoon. He finally led us up to a hole in the fence, and pointed us through it. We could not have been happier.

We rushed our gringo asses back to the ship as fast as we could go. We went to the cabin and cleaned the clay off our shoes, then examined the spoils from our adventure. We had Dominican coffee, Mama Juana, a questionably-Cuban cigar, and 510 pesos, which did in fact equal about $14 American, a fact I discovered after we returned. It would probably have been enough for a cab.

We had dinner out on the back deck, then walked around the upper decks looking at where we’d been in La Romana. We could see the stars clearly. We found a bar on deck 9 and decided to try something different for once, so we hung out there for a while. There were some super-douchey guys, and girls sharing a non-alcoholic drink with two straws. Brad and Jamie came up to tell us they were in search of a certain kind of beer, and they’d heard this bar might have it. They were denied.

Later that night, Wendy lit the boat on fire.

casanova making flaming blowjobs

We went down to Bar Casanova. On the stage nearby, they seemed to be doing some kind of dirty Spanish dancing. Rodrigo asked if he could make up drinks for me, and of course I said yes. He also told us to go have dinner in the fancy restaurant on top of the ship, and gave us the number of his friend who worked there and would treat us very well.

The bartenders were goofy as hell. Rodrigo, Casanova, and Alfred were dancing and playing bull and matador behind the bar. Alfred asked Stephanie if she came here often, because he was convinced he knew her. Casanova gave us shots of Sambuca, and floated 151 on top to light them (Wendy watched me cringe, because Sambuca burns just fine on its own). He then offered to make us a flaming blowjob, and we all died a little inside at the idea of cute little Casanova even saying the word “blowjob”.

He made them in tall, narrow shotglasses, floated 151 on top with a spoon, lit them, and handed us straws. The first time around, we blew them out and drank. He said no, we were supposed to drink them from the bottom with a straw! This seemed dangerous, but he was the bartender. He made us another round.

Wendy forgot the most important rule of blowjobs: suck, don’t blow. The 151 shot out of her drink and onto the bar. I put out the fire, while Casanova just stood there giggling and telling her she needed to suck instead. I’m pretty sure the entire staff was drunk, too.

from wendy’s travel journal

We went back to our room to find our customs forms waiting for us. Wendy started filling hers out, which seemed like a terrible idea. We played American Gladiators again, and I put on my poncho, which upset Stephanie because apparently she thought I was going to suffocate on it like a kid in a plastic bag. Finally, we all managed to shower and go to bed.

Friday, thankfully, was a day at sea on the way to the Bahamas. We got up at 10am, and miraculously, none of us were hung over.

Stephanie and I went to the embarkation talk with Deborah, to learn about how to get off the ship back in Florida (it’s more complicated than one might think), while Wendy went to talk to the nice people at the excursion desk. I emailed Matt, and then we had lunch. Stephanie and Wendy were patiently waiting for the hamburger stand to open near the pool at noon, while I went to the buffet. When I came back with a Mexican fiesta on my plate, Wendy got up and ran to the buffet instead. Mexican food day was awesome.

We were glad it was overcast outside, because we were all badly sunburnt, Wendy in particular. We decided to go hang out and read in the Oriental bar, but this is what happened instead:

How could you not love cruising, when you can do things like take a nap in a bar??

After our naps, we went to SuperQuiz and took 4th place. We played canasta and talked to Rodrigo for a long time. Then we went to the theatre to watch the cruise staff talent show; we figured it’d be goofy, but it was pretty great. One of the bartenders sung Achy Breaky, and the Indian security guards did a traditional dance (these were the same guys who commended on my Sanskrit tattoo all the time).

After the show, we went to the casino to play blackjack. I started with $50, and walked away with $90. The dealer was awesome, and the Australian pit boss was even better. We then moved to video poker; I played $10 and ended up with $4 on top of that. HIGH ROLLER!! I cashed out most of it and kept a chip and some Costa coins as a souvenir.

We went back to Bar Casanova, and Rodgrido asked us to do him a favor. Staff wasn’t allowed to change cash on the ship, but he had a bunch of tips in euros that he couldn’t use. We took it to the casino and changed it into dollars for him. I think it was Wendy’s best day ever, helping one of her favorite bartenders.

We went to the card room and discovered a new drink menu. That was dismaying, because it tripped up our goal of drinking at least one of everything. We set to work! We also ran into the couple from the taxi the previous day, and told them all about our adventure.

After playing canasta for a while, it was time to change clothes for ‘fancypants night’, as Wendy put it. There are two formal nights on the ship (both the at-sea days), and we’d decided to participate in one of them, since it was to be the farewell dinner. We got to the restaurant at 8:30, and found our tablemates already there. The little girls were dressed up and everything.

I had crudites, vegetable ragout, a caesar salad, and vegetarian pad thai that was far more Italian than Asian (it was made by a bunch of Italian chefs, after all). The presentation at dinner was amazing; there was a staff parade, ice cream cakes, and a champagne toast. Everyone cheered for the chefs and staff, and they told us to come back at midnight for the dessert buffet. Holy crap.

We went back to our usual hangout after dinner, and Casanova was there, joking: “MAKE FIRE! MAKE FIRE!” We sat and watched the staff show in the lounge, called ‘Sexy Games’. It was hysterical. We went to our cabin to change into normal clothes again, and went down to witness the buffet. None of us were hungry, but we had to see it. It was insane.

Half the people in the restaurant seemed to be there for the same reason we were: to take photos and witness the thing. There was so much food, we felt guilty about the waste. We all had a little bit to eat (they had cheese and fruit too), then went to our cabin to sleep around 1am.

Saturday morning, we got up early specifically to play shuffleboard. The sports office was only open for a few hours a day. Several of the staff members were playing a miniature version of soccer in the basketball court, and it was awesome to watch.

We didn’t actually know how to play shuffleboard, but that didn’t stop us. It was one of our goals. In the picture above, Wendy is sliding around on two of the disks. I think we all won!

We could see the Bahamas by 10:30am. It was extra exciting to be arriving there, because Stephanie and I had been there before. We had very important destinations in mind. We stood and watched the ship pull into the massive port in Nassau, then ran to get our stuff.

In our cabin, we found toga materials, too:

We took a water taxi over to Paradise Island first thing, because we knew exactly where we needed to have lunch: Bimini Road. We’d eaten there before, and it instantly became one of my favorite restaurants.

Our water taxi had an additional passenger. He was Felix Morley, freelance tour guide. As we rode across the bay, he pointed out things like Nicholas Cage’s house and the Lloyd’s compound. He had stories about everything, and it was pretty fascinating. We tipped him as we got off the boat.

We walked past the giant yachts at the marina, and took up spots at the outside bar at Bimini Road. I had one of their awesome orange mojitos. A creepy dude down the bar started going on and on about how great their mojitos were, because he’d had them all. I believed him. Also, Wendy finally got to have a Kalik, the beer of the Bahamas! (There’s plenty more about Kalik and its biggest fan, Gilbert, in my first Bahamas travel journal.)

On the way out, we had our server put our drinks into to-go cups. I LOVE THE BAHAMAS. We walked over to Atlantis, to wander around the casino and see the lagoons behind it. We bought some souvenirs and wandered through the shops. In the bathroom, Wendy declared her excitement at the fact that she was walking around carrying her drink with her anywhere she wanted.

We took the water taxi back over to Nassau, and Felix Morley, freelance tour guide, was on the boat with us again. We heard the same exact spiel, only backwards, and it was nowhere near as entertaining the second time. Also, the memory card on my camera died, and I thought I lost a ton of pictures. Luckily, I was able to recover them when I got home. Thanks, internet!

We went through the straw market, which was disappointingly lacking in heckling (that’s actually a plus), and walked down to see the parliament building and and our very favorite sign, the one about ya tings. Wendy bought a $1 flute from some kids selling them in the street; it ended up being the best souvenir ever.

straw market

bahamian parliament building

Then we had to pay a visit to the little grocery store we’d been to the first time in Nassau, so I could stock up on Go Ahead. I can’t get them in the US, and they’re the best thing ever. I asked the cashier to please not laugh at me as I purchased 8 packages of them.

And then? It was time for our most important mission of all: Señor Frogs.

We got our yards, and sat there watching drunk girls dancing. It was pretty spectacular. As at the other place, they had games on the dance floor for free shots, even though the people dancing didn’t really need them. I have an awesome picture of a girl squatting down so far you can see her buttcrack; it’s my most-viewed photo on Flickr. Ha!

And just as before, we got to hear Sexyback. Oh, Señor Frogs, I cannot wait to see you again in Cozumel. And Grand Cayman.

wendy and her flute

After a yard plus something between 1/2 and 1 additional yard (none of us remember), we headed back toward the ship, very close to the cutoff time. Outside the bar, we ran into Brad and Jamie again. They were on another mission, and headed into Señor Frogs. We were a little concerned, since we only had a few minutes to get back to the ship.

finishing the yard

We got back on the ship and opened the door to our cabin so we could watch the final people boarding. Stephanie was convinced that Brad and Jamie weren’t going to make it back, and the ship would leave without them. Wendy decided to use her flute to lure them back. She hung out the window whistling loudly, to the vast annoyance of the people making out on the balcony below us.

Once we settled down, it was time to pack. Sigh. Suitcases had to be left outside our cabin doors that night, and we could pick them up the following morning at customs.

We went to go play canasta, and confused the hell out of Casanova when we ordered water and Coke to drink, instead of cocktails. We had dinner out on the back patio, and could see several other cruise ships on the horizon. There was a full moon, so the ocean was very bright that night.

We returned to our cabin to put on our togas and head to the Osiris Theatre for the passenger talent show. They did it in a Roman-forum sort of way, with the staff as Caesar and his court, voting thumbs up-or-down on performances. Most of them were pretty boring or terrible, and we could tell there were some passengers who did this kind of thing a lot. The best part, though, was when a woman came up and sang the love theme from Titanic. Um, WHAT? The staff acted out scenes from the movie behind her, including a lot of drowning. It was hysterical.

We went back to our cabins to finish packing, and hauled our suitcases outside. We had to keep our toiletries and a change of clothes with us, obviously, but otherwise we were ready to leave the ship. SAD.

We had to get up far too early on our last day, in order to gather in the theatre at 8am. We had breakfast on the back deck one last time, and watched the sun rise. We were already docked in Fort Lauderdale.

Since we had booked an excursion, we got to get off the boat a little earlier than the rest of the passengers. We found our luggage in a giant room in the embarkation building, and had to stop to talk to a customs agent on the way out. I was worried because we were slightly over the limit for alcohol (one person can only bring back two bottles). I handed the dude my slip and passport, and he asked, “Do you have any alcohol or tobacco?” I replied, “I have a 750 of Dominican rum.” He said, “Don’t drink it all before you leave the seaport!” Um, next time I’m bringing back an entire liquor store.

We got on the bus for our excursion and sat there for a long time, waiting for the rest of the passengers. Since our flight wasn’t til late afternoon, we were going to the Everglades, and then the bus would drop us off at the airport.

We drove about a half-hour to a private park in the Everglades, and parked right at the airboat dock. Riding an airboat is one of those things I’ve been dying to do forever, and we didn’t have the opportunity in Louisiana. I was excited.

The airboat was awesome. It was low to the water, noisy, and went way faster than we expected. We saw a ton of other wildlife, but it seemed like we’d been looking for a long time without seeing any alligators. I was starting to think we might not.

And then!

We got so close to some of the alligators, it was kind of scary. I felt like they were looking me right in the eye.

After our boat ride, we went down to see the alligator-wrangling demo. They also had a tiny baby named Bobber, who we took turns holding.

We watched a big redneck dude wrestle and pin an alligator, then pry her mouth open so we could see. I kind of felt bad for the animal, because she was hella crabby about it.

We hopped back on the bus, and it drove us to the Fort Lauderdale airport. Half of us got off; the rest were going on to Miami. We got there around 1pm (our flight was at 4:30), and figured we’d have plenty of time to have lunch in the airport and hang out. Oh, but we were dead wrong. The line snaked all over the check-in area and back down the main hallway. We stood there for over 2 hours, talking to the people around us, and reading standing up. We took turns going into shops for snacks and pop, and going to the bathroom. It sucked a lot.

After checking in, we then had to get in the line to drop our bags off. We left exit the building and lined up outside. After a bit, we noticed that half the bags in line didn’t have tags on them, which meant they hadn’t checked in yet. We and a bunch of other people were in the wrong line; we went back inside and took up spots at the end of another very long line. It was horrible, and the people working there looked miserable.

After another 45 minutes, we were able to leave our bags, and headed to the security check. We were close to being late for the flight, as was probably everyone else in that airport. Finally we got to the gate, boarded, and the plane seemed as if it would be only a little delayed. Wendy and I were punchy, so we passed the time making signs to hold up to the window, hoping passengers on other planes would see them. One of them was “HELP! There’s an alligator on our plane!!” We were laughing so hard that the flight attendant came over to see what the hell we were up to.

Our flight crew was Captain Bob and Johnny Payne; I’m pretty sure they were superheroes. Captain Bob introduced the flight attendants as ‘pretty girls’. We got to Atlanta on time, and had three hours before our connecting flight, so we took the train into downtown to find dinner. We wandered around for a few blocks, and every single business there was closed. The city seemed deserted. Because the train ride took so long, we decided to just get food at the airport; we headed back and went to Houlihan’s, where they made me a veggie burger and I considered napping on the table.

The flight to Minneapolis left on time, thankfully, and we got back to the cold close to midnight. The best part of all of that was that Matt stayed up waiting for me to get home. I missed him like crazy, which is exactly why he’s coming on the next cruise with us.

Stay tuned for Cruise II: THE REVENGE, when Wendy, Cindi, Jumi, Matt and I return to the Caribbean, and possibly even light the boat on fire again. We can hope.

We got started early at the lovely Hubert H Humprey Terminal at Minneapolis-St Paul International Airport. We continued the party on the aeroplane. The party also included canasta and the sammichsammich. We landed in Las Vegas, and were greeted at the airport by a limo driver holding a sign reading TEAM AWESOME.

We hopped in our limo and broke out the champagne. We got to Excalibur, checked into our widely-scattered rooms (which they told us would be together), and regrouped half an hour later, ready for action.

We had dinner. We drank tequila-based beverages. We video-gambled at New York New York. We wandered up the strip and eventually found ourselves in the Barbary Coast, the lesser-known pirate casino. While most of our crew headed for more games, Matt and I circled the casino and stopped cold at the entrance to the bar. There, onstage, was a cover band with a keytar. We were ecstatic. After a series of hair-metal ballads, and as if it was not already the best day ever, they launched into Faithfully. We died of joy.

…And then were resurrected to go across the street to the Flamingo. Katie and Wendy ran over to play the Wheel of Fortune, so I grabbed a seat, put in $10, hit ‘max bet’, cashed out, and walked away with $81. We watched poker for a while, and headed back to the hotel sometime around 3am.

Now, not to ruin the suspense or anything, but I’m going to go ahead and tell you that Saturday was the all-time official best day ever. Really.

our pretty-pretty-princess castle.

We got up and met up with everybody at Mandalay Bay for the brunching. The AVN Awards were going on that day, so we saw several porn stars and producers in the restaurant. We hopped cabs to downtown, and wandered into Binion’s to play blackjack. We found an empty table so all six of us could play. And then, we met Robert. Our lives will never be the same.

Robert alternated between berating us and telling jokes (some of which he would forget partway through) for the next three hours, with regular 20-minute breaks during which we missed him a LOT. Our favorite moment was when he started talking about buying nickel and dime bags, then tried to explain what they were to his pit boss, who had no idea. He said that it was heroin, as opposed to cocaine, which one buys in rocks. Also, he remembered the days when one could walk down Fremont Street counting a handful of cash; nowadays, you walk down a few blocks holding a twenty, and you’re bound to get shot.

Robert took all our money over the course of that three hours, but I don’t think any of us minded it too much. We departed Binion’s and headed across the street to the Golden Nugget, where we poked around on video machines, for which we all know the main purpose is losing money at a slow, measured rate while getting as many free drinks as possible. Then, knowing we had a long awesome night ahead of us, we headed back to the hotel for an hour-and-a-half nap, during which I had a highly exciting dream involving the football game that was on TV. We awoke and got dressed: Matt in a suit, and me in a black cocktail dress, wrap, and high heels (SERIOUSLY). At 7:30, the rest of the group joined us in the pimp room for champagne, and then we headed downstairs to catch our limo.

The driver was Clint, and he had a bluetooth headset grafted to his head. We told him we had reservations at the Venetian at nine, and would like to ride around the strip until then. He drove us down to the Las Vegas sign, parked in a turn lane, took our picture, and then drove us back up and down the strip until ten to 9. We drank champagne and talked a lot about awesome.

We dined at the Pinot Brasserie, and the food was incredible. Our goal was to hit $500 on the bill, but we came up a little short. We met Wendy’s boyfriend, a dude in way-too-tight pants barrelling into the kitchen to pee, who was escorted out shortly thereafter by giggling staff. Katie walked around the bathroom with her pants down, because they were out of toilet paper. We talked too loudly and swore too much, and in short, we were motherfuckin’ classy. As always.

We gambled for a bit at the Venetian, then decided to head back down towards Excalibur to find a bar we could stumble home from sometime the next morning. We stood for what seemed like two weeks in the cab line (more like 20 minutes, but I was wearing 3″ heels). We readjourned at MGM Grand, and wandered around looking for a bar. Eventually, the shoes lost the battle, and Jumi and I walked around the casino barefoot (and saw several other girls doing the same). We finally found the bar I’d remembered as perfect for what we were seeking, and it was. Therefore, we found us some seats at Rouge, and we closed the place down.

All I remember from the walk back across to Excalibur is Jumi loudly insisting that I go right up to the room and take photos of my feet, because we had been walking around inside and outside casinos barefoot (fun fact: casino carpeting has a LOT of wet spots!). She told the same thing to another pair of girls who were walking around shoeless, too. Hahaha. I’m pretty sure that 3am-5am Las Vegas is one of my favorite things ever.

On Sunday, we walked up to Aladdin for brunch-buffet, an idea which seemed really great at the time, and even better once we saw the insane variety of food they had there. While the food was indeed excellent, it was all most of us could do to not lie down and nap afterward.

some big-pimpin dude told wendy he liked her prada sunglasses. they’re from superamerica.

Jumi and Matt and I went over to Caesar’s to mostly windowshop in the crazy overpriced stores there, and I actually made it out of Diesel without buying anything. Not too surprisingly, our only purchases came from the Playboy store. We walked up to the Wynn and dedicated ourselves to blowing a few more bucks in the machines while exploiting the beverage service. We discovered there that Steve Wynn mixes much stronger drinks than anyone else we’d yet encountered. We liked Steve a lot.

We hopped a cab back to our hotel, then another limo to the airport, and hung out eating pretzels and watching planes take off from the giant window in the D concourse until Jumi texted, ‘you know the flight’s leaving early, right?’ We hurried to the plane, and laughed about sammiches for at least half of the flight home. Also, I lost at canasta, dammit.

We arrived in the middle of a snowstorm, which made the landing somewhat nervewracking, and the drive home at least four times as long as it should’ve been. I went to bed way too late, cursing the universe for the fact that I was the only one who had to work on Monday. Holy crap, that hurt.

[To see the entire photoset from this trip, go here!]

We went to happy hour at Brit’s Pub, then Matt took a somewhat-tipsy me to the airport. Our flight was delayed an hour and we were early as it was, so Stephanie and I went to a bar in the concourse. By the time we got to the gate, I was loudly exclaiming, “Dude! I’m not too drunk to get on this flight!”

We were airborne after 11pm, in a plane with nonworking air conditioning. They said something about attaching portable a/c to it, so all I could picture was a window unit stuck in the side of the airplane. I slept for most of the flight.

Stephanie and I arrived in Denver and picked up our car at 1:30am. It was a gold PT Cruiser. We cursed him, then named him Poontang. We drove what felt like 100 miles, and got to bed around 3am.

Saturday morning, we drove Poontang up to Estes Park to get our hikin’ in the Rockies on. It was freezing there and we were unprepared, so we stopped at an outfitter so I could buy a fleece. There were elk everywhere, wandering around in people’s yards and everything.

We encountered a snowstorm around 8,000 feet! It was gorgeous, though the wind was ridiculous. They closed the main park road because 80mpg gusts were pushing cars off of it.

nymph lake

on the emerald lake trail, with a snowstorm in the background.

dream lake

me freezing at dream lake

We hiked a ton, til we couldn’t feel our toes anymore, and then descended from the mountains around dusk in order to see the elk rut. It was fascinating. An elk would trumpet and a whole herd of ladies would try to fend off his advances. We saw a little bit of aggressive behavior between males, but nothing major.

elk in the mood for love

We had dinner at a Mexican restaurant north of Denver on the way back to the hotel, then fell over exhausted from hiking.

Sunday morning, we had brunch at Tom’s Diner in Denver. I fell in love in an instant.

We drove around and saw the city, then headed to Pepsi Center to see the Dalai Lama.

It’s hard to explain what it’s like being in the same building with him. I started crying the second he walked out on stage. He’s such an amazing combination of absolute serenity and goofiness. I loved him. It was over way too soon, but I feel like his insights and just the memory of being there are going to stick with me forever.

After the event, we wandered downtown and found ourselves in the middle of Oktoberfest in Larimer Square. There were shots of Jagermeister, polkaing, and a tshirt that reads polka like you’ve got a pair. I intend to wear it to Gasthof’s.

We walked around downtown Denver, checking out the shops and local sights. There was a huge hispanic festival going on in a park, but we didn’t know what it was about. We walked back down towards Pepsi center and encountered the halfway-to-St-Patrick’s-Day party at the Pour House. We met a bunch of dudes from Wisconsin and ended up having a singalong to Don’t Stop Believin’ with the entire bar. It was perfect.

Afterwards, we had a very late dinner downtown, and had a very sleepy return to our hotel.