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 walked down to the harbor from our hotel, checked in for our Kenai Fjords cruise, and went to a nearby bakery for oatmeal and coffee. We had some time to kill before the boat left, so we shopped. I fell in love with Helly Hansen, and bought a bag I’m still using for my overnight gear every day.

We had assigned seats on the boat, and were paired with an Indian couple from San Francisco who were fascinating. Right as we left the harbor, we had our first wildlife encounter: otters gettin’ it on in the water.

sea otter lovin’

sexy in raingear

The ship took us out of Resurrection Bay and into the Gulf of Alaska. We’d taken Dramamine because of the many warnings to do so, but I felt we probably didn’t need it. It wasn’t rough at all, just very damp and cold. In the gulf, we saw whales!

whale spout

We then headed into Aialik Bay to see the glaciers. The water was an amazing color, more like what we’d seen in the Caribbean. I didn’t expect that in Alaska.

three-hole point (supposedly the most-photographed item in alaska)

holgate glacier

Seeing glaciers up close was nothing short of mindblowing. We were still a half-mile away from it, but it seemed like we were right up close. It’s just a gigantic, blue wall of ice, and it thunders. I couldn’t believe it. Something else I didn’t expect? That we’d actually see it calve. It happened several times while we sat there watching; once it sent huge splashed up in the air and rocked the boat quite a bit.

holgate glacier calving

The water was full of ice chunks from other pieces breaking off, too. Some of them looked like little icebergs floating around.

We left Aialik Bay and headed out to the Chiswell Islands, part of the Alaska Maritime National Wildlife Refuge. To me, this meant one thing: PUFFINS. I’d seen them floating around in the water, but hadn’t seen them up close yet.

chiswell islands

sea stars

PUFFINS!

We hung out watching the puffins for a while, then went around to another island to see seal lions. They’re pretty much just like my cats: lazy and noisy.

sea lions

gulf of alaska

We had dinner on the way back, and spent a lot of time chatting with our tablemates. On the trip, we’d seen a ton of wildlife: baleen whales, humpback whales, porpoises, puffins, cormorants, bald eagles, a black bear, sea lions, harbor seals, and otters. Honestly, the puffins affected me more than the whales. I just like them a lot.

We got back to Seward Harbor around 7:30pm, and the sun was still shining. We walked back to the hotel, then downtown, and decided on Christo’s Palace for dinner. We had pizza and a couple blue glacier martinis, which turned out to be very strong. I giggled the whole way back to the hotel.

The next morning, Alison was moaning about her hips and thighs, and I realized that I no longer get sore after dancing all night. Clearly, this means I must go even more often, ALL THE TIME.

Monday morning, we were up bright and painfully early, because we had a convertible to pick up and take to the beach. I had reserved a Sebring, but when the guy told me there was a Mustang available, how could I resist? I had even considered buying one at one point, but realized a RWD car is kind of retarded in Minnesota.

Anyway, I loved driving that car. It wasn’t as fast as Miguel, but it was powerful, sounded awesome, and was heavy like a muscle car. We spent the day driving along the coast with the top down and laying on the beach at Melbourne. I wore very little clothing, which is something I’m rarely brave enough to do, but holy shit! I was in a hot convertible driving along the ocean. It was the right thing to do.

And oh, we were sunburnt. We reapplied sunscreen several times, but I think the sun there is just too much. I had the awesome raccoon-like mask from my sunglasses, and parts of my body that rarely see daylight, like halfway down my cleavage, were pink. But, man, it was great.

We drove back to Orlando and I called Alina for dinner. It was so awesome to see her again; I can’t believe how long we’ve known each other. She reminded me of the time we saw a midget riding a Segway in Celebration. I hate how I can spend an hour or two with someone and feel like they’re part of my life on a regular basis, and then realize I don’t get to hang out with them all the time. That’s so strange to me. However, the really funny thing? The condo she just moved into is three blocks away from my brother’s house. AWESOME.

Taking the car back to the rental agency, my sister was driving Scott’s car, so I was alone. It was dark and had cooled off quite a bit; I was blasting the radio with the top down and the wind in my hair and it was so fucking perfect. And then I drove by the creepy sheriff’s car with the coconut head in it and freaked out just a little. What the hell??

Friday morning, I awoke at 5:30 because the sun was already up. We put on bathing suits and sunscreen under our clothes and went to breakfast in the hotel. From the dining room there, we could watch the cruise ships pulling into the harbor.

A shuttle came to pick us up to take us to the harbor on Paradise Island, and we were not surprised to see that it was Frankie again. Watching Frankie drive, I was surprised we arrived anywhere safely; he only seemed to be watching the girls on the street, turning to look back at each of them as we passed. We got a tour of the Paradise Island hotels again, and then he dropped a busload of us off at the marina.

on the catamaran

We boarded the boat and went up to the top deck, even though it was only in the 70s. There was sun, dammit, and we were going to enjoy it. We laid in deck chairs and watched the islands disappear into the distance as we went out to sea.

It took about an hour to reach Rose Island, a little sliver of land that seemed to have only one property on it apart from the tour company’s outpost. On the side where the boat docked was a stairway leading down to a little inlet, which opened out onto the reef where we could snorkel. The other side of the island was a beautiful white-sand beach lined with palm trees with hammocks. On the top ridge of the island was the large deck where they served lunch. They had bathrooms, changing cabanas, two bars, and an equipment house with snorkels, sea kayaks, and floaty things for kids. That little island was hooked up.

island dog

We got masks and snorkels and headed down to the inlet. The water was cold, but it was just a matter of dunking a couple times and yelling loudly to get used to it. A couple showed us how to use the snorkels correctly; they didn’t allow flippers because they damaged the reef.

snorkeling

I thought it would be really disconcerting to breathe underwater, but it was fine. We could even talk to each other through the snorkels. We both had trouble getting the mask to seal completely, so water would slowly seep up around our noses as we swam. It didn’t really bother me to have water in the mask until it started fogging over, and then I discovered the real fun when I went to empty it: for some reason, whenever I came out of the water, I’d automatically breathe in through my nose. Salt water up my nose and out my mouth; I nearly threw up (we called it chumming the waters). After doing that three or four times, I finally managed to force myself to not breathe in while I ripped the mask off my face. YUCK.

Besides that, though, I loved snorkeling. It was amazing. Yeah, I know all those fish I see in aquariums actually live in the ocean, but I didn’t expect to see them right there. I didn’t see fish at first, and then I started to notice them hanging out in the shelter of corals, looking at us. Then I saw them everywhere. We saw friendly blue fish and nervous green fish. We saw eel-like fish peeking out of holes in the coral. We saw purple fan coral and yellow brain coral. I was experiencing the Discovery Channel live. When they called us for lunch, I didn’t want to go.

Here are several of the shots I took with my disposable underwater camera. The composition isn’t great, but I was kind of wearing a mask at the time. If you look closely, you’ll see a bunch of fish.

one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen

rose island (reef side)

We had lunch up on the deck, from which we could see both sides of the island. It was really windy, but the sun was warm. We ate beans and rice, bread, and bananas from a giant pile of fruit in the center of the complex. We took advantage of the ‘unlimited free wine’, which was served from gigantic glass jugs (but was totally boxworthy).

perfect beach

After lunch, we went down to the beach side of the island. The waves were huge. I stood in the surf laughing my head off as each one hit me and I stumbled to stay standing. After getting knocked down twice, I followed Stephanie down the beach to explore.

exploring the beach on rose island

She disappeared on one of the secluded beaches down the shore; I decided to head back and lay in the sun. A couple guys from New York were swimming nearby, but otherwise we had the whole thing to ourselves. Right as she got back, it clouded over, and even rained for a few minutes. We gathered our things and wandered around the island for a while, then finally decided to hang out in hammocks. A bunch of the older people from the boat apparently spent the afternoon on the deck drinking the unlimited free wine, which seemed kind of silly to me when there was ocean and palm trees and hammocks to be had. You can sit on your own porch and drink cheap wine whenever you want, really.

in a hammock

The sun is out in full force until around 3:30 or 4 in the Bahamas, and then clouds start to come in the closer it gets to dusk. Stephanie insisted on riding on the top deck of the boat again on the way back, even though it was cold in the wind, without the benefit of the sun. I was wearing my bathing suit, tshirt, board shorts, hoodie, and I had wrapped myself mummy-style in my beach towel, but I was still cold. I demanded to know why we always have to be hardcore (even though I already knew the answer). We didn’t go downstairs until it started to rain.

The entire group of 25 or so were down on the first deck. The female half of the couple who had given us snorkeling advice was beyond drunk, presumably on unlimited free wine. She was demanding loudly that her husband get her another beer, that she needed help in the bathroom, and that she really really wanted to hold one of the New York couples’ babies. She sounded like a loud, whiny four-year-old, and it was something to behold. New York guy came and talked to us for a while, and he was drunk on unlimited free wine, too. There was a dad dancing in a really frightening way with his teenage daughter at the back of the boat. So, boat ride back to Nassau? Quite a spectacle.

We got back to Paradise Island, and everyone shuttled back to their hotels, saying bye to everyone else as they left. All the old people were pals, and as each couple got off the bus, the others would review their life stories out loud. I was glad we were the last ones off the bus.

We hurried to change at our hotel, because we wanted to go back to Paradise Island, but we weren’t sure how late the ferry ran. The sign said 6, but that was Bahamas time, which meant ‘whenever we feel like it’. My hair was turning blonde, and was completely straight from swimming in the ocean, but it looked awesome. It’s unfortunate that I cannot reproduce that look at home, but there is sadly no ocean about.

We walked down to the dock and waited for the ferry. It was about 5:45. At ten after six, we gave up and walked up to Bay Street to get a taxi. It costs $8 plus the $1 bridge toll to get from downtown Nassau to Paradise Island. The fares are set by the government because they used to have so much trouble with tourist-overcharging.

paradise island

We planned on exploring Paradise Island the next day, so that night we were just in search of dinner. There were four or five restaurants in Atlantis, but they were all really upscale and we were underdressed. We walked the length of the resort, then followed signs pointing to restaurants that were located outside; they turned out to be located in Marina Village, a cute little walk lined with shops that really, really reminded me of Downtown Disney.

We picked a restaurant called Bimini Road, and it was exactly the right choice. I fell in love with our server right away, an older woman who called us ‘honey’ and ‘baby’ (of course, everyone in the Bahamas calls you ‘honey’ and ‘baby’, but from her it was actually charming). She put a basket of plantain chips on the table, and we ordered drinks: I had an orange mojito I’m still fantasizing about to this day, and Stephanie got the pina colada she’d been wanting since we got there. I had a mushroom wrap with taro chips that was awesome. We stayed there a really long time, for once appreciating the fact that everything moves at such a leisurely pace there. I had a drink with rum and tamarind that I could barely touch, so Stephanie played wounded soldier: no one left behind. We tottered back towards Atlantis, weaving through a bunch of women dressed like showgirls, representing the Junkanoo Parade later that night.

crazy glass sculpture at the atlantis casino

I wanted to play video poker in the casino for a while, because I’m totally cheap and $20 lasts forever in that game (in Vegas, you can sit there for two hours playing $20 and get $25 worth of drinks, just FYI). The machines didn’t take Bahamian dollars, so I played the $6 American I had on me. I while later, I cashed out with $10. Oh, I am a high roller indeed. IN YOUR FACE, ATLANTIS!

We went out front of the resort to get a taxi back to Nassau. Our driver introduced himself as Gilbert, and proceeded to ask the usual questions: where we were from, how long we’d been there, first time in the Bahamas? By the time we got to the other side of the bridge, he had cranked the music as loud as he could, and announced that we were riding in The Party Taxi. For a minivan-taxi (as all taxis are in the Bahamas), it was pretty pimped. He even had XM radio.

Gilbert next announced, “Did you know that it’s legal to drink and drive in the Bahamas? We never have any alcohol-related accidents here because they don’t test for it!” He asked if we wanted to party, and made a move to pull over in front of a liquor store. We said no, no, we were tired and going back to the hotel. He tried to convince us otherwise. Gilbert liked to party. Everyone in the Bahamas liked to party. He had a cold six-pack of Kalik up front, and a case in the back. Gilbert was prepared for ANYTHING.

His conversation got more and more suggestive, and I could tell Stephanie was about to throw punches. I, however, was in hysterics. Gilbert was trying SO hard. He had his routine down. And as long as he got us to our hotel and didn’t take us to an alley to rape us, he could talk about it as much as he wanted.

I asked him a bunch of questions to try to distract him. We talked about the clubs downtown. He said they were frequented by an equal mix of tourists and locals; he liked to go there because he preferred white women. He then made some statement about why he preferred white women, but luckily it was drowned out by the music and I missed it. He tried his best to convince us to stop somewhere with him, but I told him we weren’t up for partying. Stephanie said she wanted to go to bed, so he announced that he could hear her bed calling his name. Gilbert was AWESOME.

We got to the hotel, and he opened the door for us. As I handed him his ten bucks, I went to shake his hand, because every shuttle-and-taxi driver there shook hands. He grabbed me instead and hugged me; I moved to allow him the least body-contact possible, and as I did so, he swung around and kissed my neck. He handed me his card, and told us to call if we wanted to have some fun tomorrow.

And that, my friends, is the last time I saw Gilbert. But if you want to have some fun in the Bahamas, he’s your man.

Saturday morning, we got up and walked downtown. We got coffee, and since breakfast food is hard to find, we stopped into the supermarket. I got a banana and some apple-and-sultana-filled crackers called ‘Go Ahead’ that I ended up buying a ton more of and bringing home. YUM.

straw market

We braved the straw market, which even without a hundred tourists inside was chaotically crowded. It was the typical souvenir schlock, but there’s always something charming about the constant pestering to stop and look, the ‘baby’, ‘honey’, and ‘beautiful’. I found a big straw bag to tote my hoodie and travel guide around in, and offered the boothkeeper $8 for it. I didn’t realize til later what an awesome beach bag it is, too.

carving a parrot

We shopped up and down Bay Street, then walked all the way down to East Bay, about a mile from downtown. We went down under the Paradise Island bridge to Potter’s Cay, a market made up of booths selling seafood and produce. The mail boats make their deliveries down at the end of the dock, so the items for sale at the market are truly fresh off the boat. Apparently, most of the restaurants buy their supplies there.

fresh conch: this guy asked for a hug for this photo

Their most popular item is conch. You can get conch in endless forms everywhere in Nassau, and several of the booths were serving it at picnic tables out front. We looked at all the booths and headed towards the East Bay side of the bridge, looking at the harbor.

this thing goes in the ocean?

A couple blocks down, we reached our destination: the Poop Deck. Yes, we totally went there because the name made us laugh every time we said it. And also because it got good ratings in the travel guide.

the poop deck

We got there at 11:40, and the guy there told us they didn’t serve lunch til noon. We asked if we could hang out, so we ordered drinks and waited. The restaurant looked out on the harbor and Paradise Island.

kalik: the beer of the bahamas

We ate a small lunch, because there wasn’t much on the menu that wasn’t seafood. I had a coffee with rum, because I’m still nostalgic about comfort coffee in Prague. We left the place giggling and headed back towards the bridge. Because we’re hardcore, we had decided to cross to Paradise Island (PI, for those in the know) on foot.

look hard at this photo to see a sunken ship, a sinking ship, and a bunch of cruise ships docked at port.

paradise island bridge with the famous mail boat

paradise island from the bridge

We headed east on Paradise Island, towards the portion that was not part of Atlantis. I was glad that the map’s scale was a little off, or we wouldn’t have walked it in the heat; it was quite a ways further to our destination than I expected. We passed the entrance to the only public beach on the little island, and headed up towards the One & Only Resort, which hosts the Versailles Gardens.

the cloister

At the top of the hill at the south end of the gardens lies the Cloister. It was imported piece by piece from France in the 1920s by William Randolph Hearst, but not reassembled until it was purchased by the A&P heir and placed on that site. They didn’t have any instructions for putting it back together, so they guessed.

the cloister

It was a remarkably serene and beautiful place, and seemed so in a more authentic way than the rest of the island. Everything else there is so manicured and well-maintained, it has an air of unnaturalness to it. Some people enjoy the luxury and exlusiveness of those fancy resorts, but I am not one of them. I like authenticity.

harbor from the cloister

We walked down through the Versailles gardens, which reminded me a lot of some of the gardens near Lake Harriet, only much more over-the-top. Some of the statues were beautiful, and they were all very different from one another.

water lily

in versailles gardens

versailles gardens with cloister

um, fdr.

We tried to cut through the One & Only Resort, but were denied. We went back to the main road, and turned at the public beach sign. Near the entrance was a neverending line of taxis, and a woman directing us to the beach. The path was lined with cotton trees, covered in puffs of cotton.

public beach on paradise island

We didn’t have our beach stuff with us, so we didn’t spend much time there. The waves were even higher than they were the previous day on Rose Island. There was a huge crowd of college kids sitting on the steps to the beach bar.

We walked over to Atlantis, this time to actually see the resort, since everyone makes such a big deal of it. It’s very much like one of the fancier Vegas casinos, Caesar’s Palace or the Bellagio. I wanted to get a peek at the beach there, but it’s nearly impossible to get anywhere on the beach side of the complex without proof you’re a guest. We had the sense that we’d be thrown in the brig if we tried to slip past security.

yachts parked in the marina

We went back down to Marina Village to cool off and relax. We had been in the sun for several hours, and were feeling it. Stephanie got ice cream, and I got iced coffee. We sat outside on the wall and watched the passers-by, gawking at the insanely hootchie outfits on some of the women. Again, I was reminded of how much Atlantis is like a Disney property: it’s totally perfect and clean. Bright colors, friendly staff, the smell of a lot of money. Considering the conditions in Nassau, it’s kind of ridiculous. It’s like it’s there to shelter people from the reality of a poor place.

We walked around the outside of the building, and ended up back in the casino. We headed out the other side towards the beach. Finally, we saw it. They had a huge complex set up, but of course it was just for guests. The rest of us could walk along the balcony and peer at it, however.

the lagoon at atlantis

While we were standing there taking photos, a woman came up and poked at my arm. She asked, “Are those yours or henna?” I said they were mine. She launched into a monologue about all the great tattoos she’d seen there on the island. She was drunk off her ass, and amusing as hell, as was her husband, Curtis.

We were expressing some frustration over not being able to get nearer to see the beach, so they assured us that there was a way to do it if you knew how. They had managed to sneak onto the beach earlier in the day. They set off with us in tow, following the balcony towards the far end. Along the way, we saw a guy feeding the huge fish in one of their several aquariums.

atlantis: the bridge-like room costs $2,500/night. minimum 4-night stay.

It soon became apparent that Curtis and Jess really had no idea where they were going (even though they were convinced they knew). We didn’t mind, because they were fun to talk to. We walked up and down, and finally it occurred to them that they had probably come into Atlantis from the beach itself, walking down from the public area. It was time for them to head back to their cruise ship, so we said goodbye.

We wandered around Atlantis a while longer, then decided to catch the ferry back to Nassau so we didn’t have to pay for a cab again. The ferry only costs $3 each way, and it’s awesome to be out in the harbor with the cruise ships.

cruise ships

They crowded as many people on the little ferry as possible, and everything seemed a little rickety. I had the seat closest to the back (the stern, duh) so I could take photos as we left. I leaned back against the railing to turn around, and it gave. It was held onto a post by twine. Thankfully, I did not fall off a ferry boat into the ocean.

nassau waterfront

straw market with cruise-people

The big cruise ship days in Nassau are Tuesday and Saturday, so the straw market was mobbed when we reached the dock. As we had several times already, we walked past Señor Frog’s, the notorious spring break bar originally from Mexico, and I asked Stephanie jokingly if we were going there for dinner. She yelled NO again, as always.

We walked back to the hotel and got our beach-stuff so we could enjoy the last bit of sun before the clouds came in. We sat on the beach across the street from our hotel and watched cruise ships leaving port. We gaped in disbelief as this monster of a ship backed out and did a 180 in what seemed to be a way-too-small harbor. It followed the pilot boat out into the ocean, and was on its way. We decided we really needed to take a short cruise sometime, because places like the Bahamas seem especially geared towards that kind of vacation. The hair-braiding woman came over to offer her services just like she’d already done four times since we arrived. We again declined. Someone tried to sell us timeshares, just like they’d already done. We got out of it by telling him we were leaving the next day.

We went back to the hotel and perused our guide, looking for dinner options. We didn’t really want to take a taxi again, lest we encounter Gilbert, nor did we want to pay the $20 to get to PI and back, since we’d just come from there. The British Colonial Hilton was nice but boring, and the several restaurants along Bay Street were primarily seafood or take-out. I said, “So, it’s Señor Frog’s, then?” She didn’t think I was serious. She should’ve known better, since we have a longtime history with this kind of thing: ‘Want to go to THAT tacky tourist restaurant?’ Joke about it 50 times, and all of a sudden you HAVE to go, just because you’ve talked about it so damn much.

we know how to party.

Oh, we made the most of our visit to Señor Frog’s. We ordered normal-sized drinks, but they arrived in yards anyway. We watched a bunch of drunk 19-year-olds dancing on tables near the bar, and girls with the worst voices ever singing karaoke just to get free shots. We ate bad Mexican food that somehow tasted really good. I went to the bathroom at least three times, and the last time I opened the stall door to find the janitor standing there with a mop and bucket. He said, “Oh, sorry, baby.” No problem, dude. I’m kicking it tacky-tourist-style at Señor Frog’s!

We laughed our way out of the place, me clutching most of my second yard of whatever it was. We walked back to the hotel, and met a guy along the way who asked us the usual questions. I suppose I felt some apprehension for a minute: drunk American chicks walking alone along a beach in Nassau. But he was friendly and wished us a good trip home. My drink went into the trash can in the hotel untouched, although I offered it to Stephanie (from the trash can) several times and SHE WOULDN’T DRINK IT. I loudly proclaimed from the bathroom that I was having the best pee of my life, and then I very soon after collapsed into bed.

Sunday morning, we walked downtown for breakfast. This was a challenge, as nothing was really open yet. I had a cappuccino, but I really really wanted more Go Ahead and the grocery store was closed. It was to be expected that things would open late on Sunday in the Bahamas.

well-fed wild dogs in nassau. they mostly hung out at the ‘beachside jerk’.

We walked around Bay Street. About a quarter of the shops were open. I was looking for my usual Christmas ornament souvenir, and we wanted food to bring to the airport in case there was nothing there. We knew we’d probably be sitting around for a while.
We found a pharmacy that sold food and souvenirs. No ornament, but the double-bonus on the Go Ahead. Between the two of us, we bought nine packages to bring home. Score!

We walked back to the hotel, said no to the braiding lady for the last time, packed up, and checked out. A shuttle arrived with a driver we did not know, and that was surprising. I was kind of hoping for Frankie. There was another couple waiting for the shuttle at our hotel, too; the girl looked and acted exactly like Kaia from The Real World, and the guy seemed sullen. There was apparently some ticketing mixup, so she wasn’t going home until the next day. The guy sat down in front of us and was silent.
We made a stop at another hotel on Cable Beach. The people weren’t standing there, so the driver went in looking for them. Our shuttle companion spoke up, without even turning around. He said, “Are you going back somewhere with snow, too?” All of a sudden, we loved him.

We compared vacations, because he had booked a similar package to ours. He was going back to Chicago, and seemed very unhappy about it. He told us he was on a Delta flight to the middle of nowhere; it was the same as ours, to Cincinnati, only his left 15 minutes beforehand.

We had been told multiple times to get to the airport two and a half hours early, and that was for good reason. There was a long line along the front of the building for security, and most of the airlines’ desks were crowded. We were relieved to be able to get seat assignments for our connection back to Minneapolis, considering the trouble we’d had getting there. We got in line for the first security scan before customs, which took close to half an hour.

We cleared customs quickly, I had my suitcase searched, then we stood in another line going upstairs, which turned out to be for yet another security check. I’m not sure why we had to have our stuff xrayed so much, but whatever. We were in the gate area more than an hour before our flight, so we could relax.

The gate area is all in one building, and it was mobbed when we got there. There was a shop, a bar, and a restaurant, so we decided to have a real lunch, if by ‘cheese sandwich’ I mean ‘real lunch’. As we were sitting down, we heard the announcement: our 2:25 flight was delayed until 4:30. Awesome.

Since we only had a 50 minute layover in Cincinnati to begin with, I knew we had a problem. I called Delta, and they said to talk to the people at the gate. Well, everyone was talking to the people at the gate, because it was chaos. All their outbound flights were overbooked. Half of them were delayed. The 2:15 flight to Cincinnati that Chicago boy was on was boarded and then unboarded because they put them on the wrong plane. Our plane was experiencing ‘mechanical difficulties’. We finally got to speak to the guy at the gate, and he told us to come back after the other flight was boarded correctly. We really wanted on that flight, but it was already full. We decided to take the next logical step: have a drink at the gate and enjoy ourselves. That’s exactly what we did.

We went back and talked to a different agent later. He spent about half an hour trying to get us on any flight he could find that would connect back home, but it was impossible. I couldn’t really be crabby with him, because he did his best and I could tell it was pissing him off that he couldn’t work something out. So at 4:30, we got on our return flight to Cincinnati, knowing we’d be spending the night there.

The flight was insane. We quickly discovered that the slimy, nasty dudes from the flight down were on that 48-seat plane with us. They were now accompanied by a couple girls in their early twenties, who they were very happily groping. The smarmiest one of all was seated in the exit row, with the loud, drunk blonde chick next to him. The flight attendant came and told her she had to move out of the exit row, because she didn’t trust her to perform her duties in case of emergency. Personally, I didn’t trust the nasty dude, either. He was clearly disappointed when she moved.

She sat a few rows up, bitching about what had happened. The flight attendant went back up to her and told her she was THIS close to being kicked off the plane. That seemed to shut her up.

In Cincinnati (the airport is actually located in Kentucky, so from then on it became Kentuckinnati), we had the pleasure of being in line behind the Detroit Mafia at the desk where they were handing out hotel vouchers, or trying to make arrangements for people on other flights. The dudes were seriously considering the airline’s offer to fly them to Cleveland and get them a cab to Detroit; they wouldn’t just get them a rental car due to liability. They finally grudgingly agreed to take the vouchers, and of course we were extra thrilled that meant they’d be staying in the hotel with us.

We got our vouchers for the hotel, meals ($7, good anywhere in the airport, whatever), and our boarding passes for the flight the next morning. We hopped on the shuttle with the Detroit Mafia. We cringed as we listened to their conversation. They were truly disgusting.

In the lobby, they all insisted on separate rooms, because Delta was paying for them. They ate a bunch of the hotel cookies and wandered in and out of the lobby, watching some game on TV. They’d occasionally try to talk to us in the lamest way possible: ‘Hello Kitty, huh?’ ‘Yep.’ They asked where they could get dinner, since it was after 9. The girl at the front desk said that the Marriott down the street was the only nearby restaurant, which meant we were going to again end up in the same place. I was dying to ask her to get us a room far away from them, but they were there the whole time. GROSS.

We managed to get to the restaurant long before them, and were almost done with dinner before they showed up. They were seated far away, so at least we were spared that unpleasantess. We ran back to the hotel, called work to tell them we’d be late, and spent probably the only night of our lives in Kentuckinnati.

I got up at 7 and felt like maybe I had already adjusted to the time change. Stephanie and her sunburn (which was substantial enough to constitute another entity) got up and we headed off down “Highway” 19 (highways in Hawaii are something entirely different than in the rest of the universe. They could conceivably term a cattle track a highway, from what I saw there.) We were in search of food, and soon discovered nothing was open, not even the coffeeshops. The whole town of Honaunau was without power. We finally found a grocery store in Oceanview, and bought fruit and snacks. In the midst of the lava-dust parking lot, they were hosting some kind of weird outdoor flea market thing, with fruits I’d never seen before.

old lava flows

The Kona Coast is all trees, ferns, flowers, and coffee farms. About 40 miles to the south, the lava fields begin. The first time I saw them, I wondered why all the earth was plowed up like that. It looked like a freshly-tilled field in Wisconsin, only with scrubby plants. The colors range from brown to grey to black. I thought it was what it must look like on the moon.

We drove through a cute little town with a classic car parade and a giant sea turtle painted on the roof of the main building, very close to the southernmost point in the US. We stopped to see a black-sand beach along the south coast of the Big Island; it was incredible. The sand is very gravelly and hard to walk on until you’re close to the water, and then it’s fine and powdery and warm from the sun. We climbed over lava flows and watched black and red crabs scrabbling over the rocks. I was really smart and wore flip-flops to do this. Also, we very quickly discovered that one cannot spend a single moment outside in Hawaii without sunscreen. Within 10 minutes, I could feel my nose burning.

We got to Volcanoes National Park, made the obligatory stop at the visitors’ center to pee and see if the rangers were hot, then set off for some hiking. We saw steam vents, which made walking around in the heat extremely unpleasant, and then the sulfur vents like one sees at Yellowstone.

steam vent

sulfur banks

kilauea crater

offerings to pele

We saw the crater at a couple different overlooks, then spent time walking around the gravelly lava rock. I was fascinated by these piles of rocks I saw everywhere; at first I thought they were trail markers, but there were way too many. I still can’t figure out what they were about, but I fell in love with them.

We hiked up Devastation Trail to the other big crater, then toured the Thurston lava tube. The lava tube portion of the park was the first real rain-foresty environment I’d ever seen in my life. It was amazing.

devastation trail

kali-kilauea crater

thurston lava tube

By 2pm, we were exhausted from the hiking and not having much to eat. We decided to drive to Hilo, which was the opposite direction from our hotel, and the other “big” city on the island. It was probably the lack of food that made us extremely cranky, but we were immensely pissed off at Hilo. We couldn’t find the downtown. We could only locate fast food and Wal-Mart and a crappy mall. We drove in circles until finally the guidebook led us to the Hilo Bay Cafe, one I had originally chosen.

The food was excellent, and we were both reminded of Real Food Daily in L.A. at the exact same time. Our faith in Hilo was restored.

We asked our server girl if it would be faster to take the loop around the top of the island from Hilo back to Kona, becase it seemed it might be quicker that way (technically, there’s the Saddle Road that cuts across the middle of the island, but apparently it’s only passable half the time). She said it was a nicer drive to go that way, so we did. On the way out, we discovered the real downtown Hilo, and our faith was doubly-restored. It wasn’t the industrial, boring city I had read about at all. It had a cute little downtown, an awesome farmer’s market, and a natural foods store where I stocked up on healthy treats like a crazy person.

Eleven miles north of Hilo, we turned off to see Akaka Falls. The route led us through a tiny town of maybe six buildings, with a very cute cafe where we stopped for coffee. We drove up the hill through bamboo farms, then hiked in to Kahuna Falls, then Akaka Falls.

akaka falls

This was even more rainforest than it had been at the national park. I couldn’t get over it. Monstrous trees, ferns, and dangling vines everywhere. It was so humid it was painful to breathe. It had its own little local rainshower.

It seemed as if there were hundreds of birds singing in the trees, but I couldn’t get a glimpse of them at all. It was beautiful.

We drove up the coast over valleys, each with their own waterfall. Near Waimea, we took the exit and drove up to see the Waipio Valley, along the north coast. The travel guide warned us three times to not drive Captain Cook down into the valley, as he would likely never come out. Just the walk to the overlook was so steep I was worried about falling down the hill. We got to see the sun starting to set over the ocean.

waipio valley

We drove back to Kailua in the dark, which pretty much sucks on those Hawaiian “highways”. We decided to give in to the ridiculous touristy aura of the tiny main drag in Kona, which was all bars and restaurants on second-floor decks over ABC Stores and the like. We went to Lulu’s, because the book said they were offbeat and their servers had horrible attitudes; it screamed Luce to me. Of course, no place can ever be Luce but the real thing. The main lesson of the night was do not make eye contact with drunk guys at any cost!

But the nachos were awesome.

We arose mas early, got coffee, and headed back to Volcanoes National Park. Stephanie made the drive in about 2 hours, which is remarkable; it’s only 90 miles, but then it’s also Hawaii. We took Chain of Craters Road 20 miles down to the southern coast, where Kilauea is still actively producing lava.

On the way, I called the 800 number to get the lava update. They tell you where red lava was last sighted in the park, and give you about a million safety precautions. You drive down to the ranger station at the end of the road (it used to be a much longer road until it was buried in lava), you hike in a half-mile, and then you start climbing. They tell you to come fully prepared for a hardcore hike, and not to even think about it if you’re any kind of pussy.

The park ranger at the station explained to us where the lava was sighted: they had four beacons set up, three following the coast to mark the do-not-cross-or-fall-in-the-ocean-and-die line, and then the fourth inland near the furthest reaches of the safety zone. He said the lava could be found somewhere around the 3rd and 4th beacons, somewhat inland. We set off on the hike.

I’m having a very hard time explaining the hike through the lava field. It was like nothing I’d ever seen before, and nothing I ever expected to see in my lifetime. It was the most surreal, barren, and beautiful landscape. It makes me cry to think about it now; it was completely unbelievable.

lava spilling into the pacific

As we climbed lava hills along the coast, we could see the steam plume rising from the ocean. We had been warned that the vapor from the plume contained hydrochloric acid and bits of lava glass. To get out to the fourth beacon, however, you kind of have to spend some time near the plume. It made me nervous.

The route out to the first beacon was marked with little glow-in-the-dark tabs to lead the way. People hike the route at night, because it’s easier to see the red lava. (Having done that hike during the day, I think anyone who does it at night is either insane or suicidal.) Once you get there, you’re on your own… you know the general direction of the beacon, but it’s way too far away to see it. You just walk and hope to find it. We managed to find 2, then completely missed 3 somewhere near the coast. As we were about to collapse from fear of being lost in the lava field, we found 4, and took triumphant photos with it (involving rock hands, as usual).

pahoehoe

I was pretty worried at that point about the steam plume. I licked my lips and had the most horrible taste in my mouth. In addition, the lava out that far was a lot less stable. There were big collapsed holes where gas bubbles had burst. I’d walk over areas that were much, much hotter than the rest. We knew there had to be fresh stuff nearby, but didn’t know how much longer we should be out there. Finally, we saw a couple walking back from much farther out; they said they saw some red rocks about 45 minutes away, but no flowing lava or anything. We didn’t want to die and were running low on water, so we decided to head back. It was a hell of a long hike, and it was hot.

fresh lava – still glass

Halfway back to the ranger station, Stephanie slipped and slid down onto a rock. Well, lava being like glass, it did some damage. She had blood running down the back of her leg like crazy. We did our best to clean it up with Kleenex, and she had to limp the last couple miles back to the ranger station. By the time we got there, we were out of water, covered in this strange volcano dust probably consisting mostly of acid, and exhausted.

We went to Volcano Village and found nothing of use, so we drove into Hilo for supplies to patch her up. We then drove back around the top of the island (which is now known as the ‘fast route’), and arrived in the Kona area around six.

We drove south 20 miles or so to the national historic park of Puuhonua o Honaunau. It had been a sacred site and place of refuge in the 16th century for warriors and people who had violated kapu (taboo). [Note: kapu quickly became one of our favorite words of all time.]

the big’un was about 6″ long.

We arrived at the perfect time. The sun was starting to set, and the place was beautiful and serene. It was a salt-and-pepper sand beach around an inlet, with ceremonial huts and tiki idols. We climbed on the lava rock amongst tidepools and and looked for sea turtles.

puuhonua o honaunau

We both spent time wandering around by ourselves, and I felt like it was one of the most perfect, calming places I’d ever been. I took almost 40 photos there, just trying to capture it.

We stood with the tiki statues at the mouth of the little inlet and watched the sun disappear into the ocean. It’s a place and time I’ll never forget.

After dark, we drove back to Kona Town and the touristy strip again for dinner. This time it was enchiladas at a Mexican place. I realized as I was sitting there overlooking the street that I had become completely accustomed to that constantly-sticky feeling one gets from excessive heat and humidity. It’s something that drives me crazy at home, but in Hawaii it just seemed to fit.

We got up early and stopped at Starbucks for coffee before heading to the airport. I was way too excited to buy the special edition Hawaiian Starbucks card, to complement my superspecial ‘original’ card from Seattle. If I was also supersmart I’d have bought extras, because baristas always try to buy them off me. Alas, I am not supersmart at all.

rock graffiti

We had discovered the night before that the Big Island has some of the most fascinating road-graffiti I’ve ever seen. North of Kailua-Kona, it’s all black-rock lava fields. People take white rock and leave messages all over. They’re everwhere, and must look amazing from a helicopter.

The Kona airport, as I’ve mentioned, is a series of tiki huts. There’s the long building with all the check-in counters, and once you get past there, it’s a few huts for gates, and restaurant/bar hut, and a shopping hut. We spent 5 minutes in the shopping hut buying tacky postcards, and the rest of the time in one of the gate-huts writing them out. Luckily, I had about 30 of them to send, or I’d have been bored to death.

kona tiki-huts

We arrived at the usual pre-flight time, which meant way too early for such a little airport. It took about 5 minutes to return the car, get the shuttle back (the shuttles at the Kona airport are completely unnecessary), and check in. This time we were flying Island Air, and the people were just as friendly. The flight was barely half an hour long, but we still got beverage service.

haleakala

We flew to Maui on a turboprop jet that was smaller than a tour bus. I loved it. We could see both of the islands at the same time from the air. I saw the huge resorts around Wailea, Haleakala, and sugar cane fields as we landed.

wailea resorts

As before, we got to climb right out onto the tarmac. The Maui airport was much bigger, though; jets are allowed to land there.

Since it was only 9:30, we decided to set out on the road to Hana, which the book described as an all-day drive (it’s 52 miles). We got the exact same car in silver and named him Captain Hook. We stopped at what was soon to become one of my favorite natural-foods markets (Down to Earth) for picnic fare, and set off on our way from Kahului.

surfers at Hookipa Beach

The road to Hana begins in Paia, a town which quickly became a favorite. It’s on the windward side,
so it’s all about windsurfing. Full of cute shops and restaurants, it’s the kind of place I love to wander. Past Paia, we wandered around Hookipa Beach at the overlook, watching the surfers and gawking at the color of the water in the tidepools. It seemed that the ocean along the beaches in Maui looked a lot different that it did on the Big Island; much more clear and turquoise.

The drive up the road to Hana is amazingly slow. There wasn’t even much traffic at that time of the morning, but it’s a tiny 2-lane ‘highway’ that turns into a single lane on bridges, of which there are more than fifty. You round a switchback at the edge of a cliff, drive down into a gulch, stop at a one-lane bridge, wait til it’s clear, then cross. Then up out of the gulch, around another tight cliff-switchback, and repeat. Each gulch had its own stream and/or waterfall coming down from Haleakala. We saw gigantic groves of bamboo, dense hanging vines, and the road was littered with flowers. We saw banana, pineapple, sugarcane, coconut, and papaya farms. It smelled like eucalyptus the whole route.

We turned off to drive down to the Keanae Peninsula, a tiny old village on a lava flow. The coast was lava rock and tidepools, with waves slamming up over the rocks. I couldn’t believe how picturesque Maui was. It was almost too much to absorb.

Outside Hana, there were roosters running around all over the road. I was a huge fan of Hawaiian Road Cock (not so much of the Hawaiian Road Weasels we saw in both living and flattened form… apparently they were some kind of mongoose). We made it to Hana close to lunchtime, and visited the famous Hasegawa General Store. I tried Maui potato chips and was unimpressed (they also made me sleepy). We considered driving the 20 miles past Hana to the 7 Sacred Pools entrance to Haleakala National Park, but the road was tiny and I later read that we weren’t actually supposed to take our rental car out there. We went back to Hana and had our picnic lunch at the beach in town, which had reddish-brown sand. After lunch, we headed back down the way we had come.

waterfall and pool

Right as we left Hana, it started raining. It was mostly heavy mist, which didn’t prevent us from getting out of the car and hiking around by a waterfall, even though we came back drenched. Then the rain really began, and we all of a sudden knew the meaning of rainforest. It was insane driving on that tiny, winding road in a downpour. I also started to understand why they said those little streams could turn into raging rivers within seconds.

bamboo grove

As we turned out of one gulch, we saw a giant rainbow. Even though we saw them daily in Hawaii, it was still amazing. We drove back to Kahului and checked into our hotel. It was another of those tacky 60s-style a-frames on the outside, but the rooms were awesome. We changed into bathing suits with our regular clothes over the top, and headed over to the other side of the island, to the resort beaches.

The western side of Maui is the leeward side, and Lahaina is the biggest town (it’s 22 miles from Kahului to Lahaina). North of there, it’s mostly beach resorts. We drove to Kaanapali and found the well-hidden public beach access. For late afternoon on the fourth of July, it wasn’t terribly crowded. The beach was a few miles long with golden sand, and we could see both Lanai and Molokini Crater from there.

kaanapali beach

Now, I haven’t gone swimming since I was in high school, and my skin crawls at the mere thought of putting on a bathing suit. But, dammit, I was in Hawaii, and I was going to swim in the ocean. We laid out our towels and bags, and as Stephanie stood there telling me how she really didn’t want people there to see her in a bathing suit, I ripped off my clothes and ran into the ocean.

It was wonderful. There were big waves coming in, so we jumped around in them and fought against the current. I didn’t like walking in the seaweed that was 20 feet out from the shore, so I started swimming up and down the beach. Stephanie got caught by a big wave and yelled at the top of her lungs, “IT’S PULLING ME OUT TO SEA!!!” I laughed so hard I almost drowned.

We watched the sun set over the ocean again, then decided it was time to head to Lahaina for fireworks. We showered and rode back into town wearing our towels, then got dressed in a parking lot. We went to a little outdoor taco place with 800 varieties of salsa, and took turns going to the bathroom on the other side of the strip mall to wash up. While we were at Starbucks getting the critically-important evening coffee, we heard the fireworks starting. We walked a block down to the main street and found an open spot from which we could see them being fired from the harbor. The fireworks were OK; they were the same standard seen in most places in the country, set to painfully-cheesy patriotic hits such as Born in the U.S.A.. However, it was incredible being there in a huge crowd of people from all over the world, gathered in that little town on Maui.

As the fireworks were ending, a couple teenagers tossed a big firecracker into the middle of a bunch of people. A woman yelled, “MY BABY!!!” exactly in that way panicked women yelled, “MY BABY!!!” in superhero cartoons of my youth. Apparently, it went off too close to her kid’s stroller for comfort. She set her husband on the teenager, and a fight started. Then the shrieky lady was crying, trying to hold her husband and his flying fists away from the stupid kids. The whole group of them had had way too much to drink. Then the cops became involved, and the fun ended.

We wandered in and out of shops along Front Street. I liked Lahaina for its touristy but not-too-tacky atmosphere; it reminded me of a clean version of New Orleans. There were a bunch of surf shops, 10 or so ABC Stores (about 5% of what Waikiki has), various galleries and souvenir shops, and lots of restaurants. I bought some clothes and a bamboo purse. We decided to come back to Lahaina during the day to see the rest of the sights, so we headed back to the car. On the drive back to Kahului, we noticed THE STARS. I had never seen the sky like that before. It was late and we were tired, so we decided to save that for another night as well. We went back to the hotel, showered sand out of our butt cracks, and went to sleep.

Our first full day on Maui was dedicated to relaxing, which is sometimes a challenge for us on vacation. We put off volcano-climbing til the next day, and headed out to see what else was going on around Maui.

We drove south to the resort areas of Kihei and Wailea. Wailea appeared not to have a real town at all; we drove around on the winding drives through resort complexes for miles before finally finding a gas station (in Kihei, conveniently attached to an ABC Store).

We drove back to the superfancy mall in Wailea right as it opened, because Stephanie wanted to go to Tiffany, and also (this may come as a surprise), we’re fans of shopping. I was vastly amused at Tiffany, because we got some attitude presumably because of how we were dressed. If there’s anything snobby salespeople should have learned from the tech boom, it’s that sometimes even slobs have a lot of cash to spend. It’s funny.

The mall had pretty good shops, at least of the chain variety. There were the usual surf shops, souvenir stores, 8 or 9 ABC Stores, and a store selling tons of Paul Frank merchandise. I found the new version of my black skull flipflops, and purchased them with great excitement.

We had read in the travel guide about a highly-rated restaurant called Seawatch, but had trouble finding it in the maze of resort-streets (they’re not like real streets, they’re meant to confuse you into giving up and staying there forever). After two phone calls, we located it in the clubhouse at the Wailea Golf Club. Now that was some funny shit.

We sat out on the veranda, totally out of place and amused. The server had never heard the word ‘vegetarian’, so I got a not-very-good salad, but the view of the ocean was worth it. I had never in my life spent time at a golf course like that, let alone an exclusive one on Maui. It was too entertaining.

We drove back up the coast, stopping in Lahaina for coffee and to visit Hilo Hattie, because it’s the most famous tacky tourist shop in the universe (well, barring maybe Wall Drug and South of the Border), and I felt, after seeing no fewer than a million ads for it, that we should visit. I later discovered that Hilo Hattie is also located in places like Orlando and Las Vegas (as are ABC Stores), still selling Hawaiian souvenirs. I kind of love that.

We drove further up the coast, past Kaanapali Beach and the man still standing on the side of the highway dressed as a cow, complete with a giant rubber udder. We were in search of the top-rated beach on Maui, along the north shore. Kapalua is another resort community, but they’ve provided public access from one area, if you’re lucky enough to find it. Well, we’re determined, so we did.

kapalua beach

We cut through the resort, speedily evading the Jesus-freak who told me I was beautiful and should not be afraid to touch him. We snuck into the bathrooms at the resort and changed into our beach gear, then headed through the pool area and down to the beach. The resort lawn had a giant pool complex with waterfalls, pool and other game tables on the lawn, two bars, a massage booth, and beach chairs, umbrellas, and cabanas everywhere. It was pretty amazing. The beach was a smallish c-shaped inlet, with perfect-colored water and warm sand. We laid out for an hour or so, and I spent a lot of that time staring up through the palm trees at the sky.

the world’s largest banyan tree

We headed back down the coast and stopped in Lahaina again to get drinks and to witness the most gigantic banyan tree ever. It was so large that I hadn’t realized it was just one tree when I drove past it before; I just thought the courthouse had a grove planted in front of it. It’s one tree that takes up an entire city block. There was no way to fit it all in one photo.

On the way back across the island to the Kahului side, we stopped at a roadside fruit stand so I could buy papayas and a pineapple. The man there barely spoke English, and would yell, NO CHEMEEKAL! in response to whatever question I asked. By the time I returned to the car, I had adopted his bizarre accent, and couldn’t stop talking that way. I still catch myself doing it constantly. Do not do this. It ees kapu. It gave me a really bad headache, and still amuses the hell out of me.

pineapple transport

We drove back down to Paia to check out the shops I had put on the mental must-visit list the day before. A lot of them had already closed (since stores and restaurants in Hawaii open and close whenever they feel like it), but I found one awesome one with a maneki neko sarong in the window. It was pretty expensive and I have little use for a sarong in Minnesota, so I decided to pass. I got a glass neko ornament for my xmas tree instead. This didn’t stop me from obsessing about the sarong, however, because it was beautiful.

west maui mountains

Back in Kahului, we pored through the travel guide in search of restaurants that looked promising for vegetarian folks. Usually I have trouble at Italian restaurants, but the menu at Marco’s Deli seemed awesome. We arrived and found this very popular place that looked straight out of 30’s Chicago. It was awesome, and the food and service were great. I ate too much of an Italian vegetable sandwich, and returned to the hotel wanting to die of fullness.

Only one of the two elevators at our 15-story hotel worked, so I felt like I was riding in a Japanese-tourist clown car on my way to get coffee. The elevator was packed full when we stopped on the 5th floor and were presented with a family pushing a stroller. And they managed to fit in. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t been there, gasping for oxygen.

At Starbucks, an old southern lady behind me asked me for coffee advice. She said, “The drinks here are all so different than they are in the states!” I thought, It’s Starbucks! Bastion of homogeneity! I recommended she get a latte. Skim, for her health.

This was our day to explore Oahu, since now we had a car and weren’t trapped in Waikiki. Or so we thought. It’s nearly impossible to find your way onto the H1 heading west from that area; east appeared to be completely kapu. We ended up taking local streets until we got very near the south shore.

BLOWHOLE.

It was fairly overcast that day, for the first time since we’d been there. We saw Sandy Beach, the most dangerous windsurfing beach in Hawaii. We stopped to see the Halona Blowhole, which spawned infinite amusement. I’m not sure why I was surprised to find that the windward coast was just as rainforest-y as on Maui, but it was. The mountains dropped off very sharply about 2 or 3 miles inland, so there was a larger plain between the cliffs and the ocean.

We got irritatingly lost in Kailua, and I’m not sure if it was the travel guide or the street-sign thing or the fact that there are only 12 letters in the Hawaiian alphabet, so most of the words sound exactly the same, and some of them actually are the same. Kailua? Wasn’t that where we stayed on the Big Island? Didn’t we just come from Kahului? It was confusing.

valley of the temples

very hungry koi

North of Kailua, we found our way to the Valley of the Temples in Kaneohe, hidden at the back of a gigantic cemetery on a hill. It’s an exact replica of the Byodo-in Temple of Equality near Kyoto, and it was beautiful.

We rang the three-ton gong, walked all around the grounds, lit incense in the temple, smashed pennies at the gift shop, and bought bags of food for the hundred billion koi that lived there. We also fed the swans, a few varieties of ducks, and woodpeckers.

inside the shrine

I don’t know why I love temples and Chinese and Japanese gardens so much. There’s something about the sense of calm and serenity there that’s absolutely unique.

chinaman’s hat (hey, i didn’t name it)

We continued on our drive around the island, heading north. We had tried to get reservations for ATV rides into the valley where they filmed Jurassic Park, but they were booked, and it was kind of rainy anyway. We stopped and walked around Kualoa Beach, from which Coconut Island is visible, i.e. Gilligan’s Island. Ha.

more stone stacks!

There was a long series of little beach towns after that, each with about 10 vowels in their names. I yelled when we drove through one with hundreds of stacked stones all piled along the edge of the beach. I have no idea what that was all about, but I loved it.

this happens a LOT in hawaii.

We rounded the northeast corner of the island and found ourself in true surfer country. Also, shrimp farms, which were kind of bizarre. Outside Haleiwa, we turned off the “highway” and headed up the bluff to Puu o Mahuka Heiau (yeah, you go ahead and try to pronounce that), a sacrificial site overlooking the ocean. The road in was a half mile of single-lane dirt path with very tight curves, so anytime we encountered a vehicle, we’d both go inching off the sides of the road into the grass. It was kind of ominous.

puu o mahuka heiau

The little sign there warns that it is kapu to move the stones.

offerings

The sacrificial site itself is about two football fields long. It consists of a rectangle of lava rock, sloping downhill. At the top, there’s a wooden altar covered in fruit, flowers, and leis. I expected it would have a similar feel to the place of refuge at Honaunau, but it was fairly vacant. It was creepier knowing it was out in the middle of nowhere, and obviously we were easy prey for sacrificial-site serial killers.

there’s a car in there. scary.

Haleiwa is the ultimate surfer town, even though the waves aren’t very high during the summer. I was excited by the shops, of course.

cholo’s, haleiwa

We had lunch at an awesome Mexican place with Dia de los Muertos stuff covering the walls. I had a spinach quesadilla and considered taking a long nap. I realized that I was starting to tire out. We shopped for a while, then headed back to Honolulu.

surf shop in haleiwa

It was later in the afternoon, so we thought we could probably fit in Pearl Harbor, but then discovered it closed at five. We decided to do the hike up Diamond Head instead, so we drove all the way through Waikiki (it sounds a lot easier than it is), to discover that closed at six. On the way through Waikiki, we saw several rainbows, including my favorite, the lazy rainbow, which appeared to just be laying across the road. I could relate.

We headed over to Ala Moana Center, because, like Hilo Hattie, I had seen about 500 ads for it. Also, it has a Japanese department store, but I had completely forgotten that by the time we got there. We parked and took some time figuring out how to actually get into the mall (this is a strange trend I’ve discovered in California and Las Vegas as well… malls have very few, very hidden entrances, apart from the anchor stores). She was excited by Sephora; I nearly peed my pants with delight to find they had a Shanghai Tang. We explored the whole mall, and I found Shirokiya last of all.

I crept around the store, wide-eyed and gawking. It was better than Japantown in San Francisco, even. It was the store of my dreams.

Honestly, I can’t even remember what we did that night. I’m sure it involved dinner and then sleeping. I was fairly exhausted by then.

We got up early, checked out of the hotel, and went over to Pearl Harbor as the monument was opening. There was already a line of a few hundred people waiting. We went in, got our (free) tickets for the 11:30 shuttle, and went back to the car.

Stephanie has a sports stadium fetish I don’t really understand, but I liken it to my love of Japanese department stores. We went over to Aloha Stadium, and it was a win for the both of us: in the parking lot, they were holding the Aloha Flea Market.

The flea market had about 95% crap, but it was still entertaining. She took photos of the stadium, and we headed back to Pearl Harbor.

u.s.s. arizona memorial

Before you board the shuttle, you watch a 20-minute documentary about the attack. I didn’t really know much about the history of that event, and it was appalling. We were a bunch of sniffling fools heading out of that theatre.

We got on the boat for a 5-minute ride to the memorial. It’s mounted atop the sunken U.S.S. Arizona, which is also the grave of its entire crew. They asked for silence while on the memorial, but people were there gabbing away. That bothered me a lot.

sunken ship

The ship still leaks oil from a couple locations; we could see it floating on the water.

We took the shuttle back, then drove back into Waikiki. In search of a fast lunch, we stopped at the gigantic food court in Ala Moana Center. At the Hawaiian food booth, past the point at which I had abandoned all hope, I found it: POI.

I ordered a serving of it for $1.75. The cashier gave me a very strange look and handed me a little styrofoam cup and a spoon. I pried off the lid and found a greyish-brown substance inside. I worried that perhaps it had some kind of meat gravy on it, even though it’s supposed to just be taro. I took a bite.

That stuff is nasty.

I tossed it and we found food elsewhere. Then we headed off to climb Diamond Head, rushing to get it in before our flight.

looking west from diamond head

The book made it sound like the hike was pretty easy compared to anything we’d already done. It said something about a bit of a walk and some stairs. That book is full of crap. Yeah, it was nothing compared to the volcanoes, but still. It’s a gradual climb up the inside of the crater, which really wasn’t too bad, but it was long. Then there were stairs. The second set of stairs was 100 extremely-steep steps. Every single person who reached the bottom would stand there and stare up at them in disbelief. It was kind of funny.

waikiki

After the stairs, there were a couple tunnels through the rock, then a spiral staircase up to a strange enclosed concrete room. We climbed out the window of the room and onto the bottom of the lookout. From there, we took metal stairs up to the top platforms. It was a hell of a climb. It probably woudln’t have been that much at the beginning of the trip, but it hurt at the end. It was really hot, too.

hawaii kai (south shore)

The view was totally worth it. To the west, we could see it raining over the ocean.

On the way back down, we encountered two women who were running the hundred steep steps. One appeared to be training the other. She was incredible, and had awesome tribal-marking tattoos around her (monstrous) thighs. She was taking the steps by twos. As she reached the top, I said, “You’re so hardcore. I think you’re my idol.” She said, “Thanks! That’s the fourth time I’ve done that so far.” Holy shit.

It was painfully hot on the way down, I could feel my sunburn, and Japanese tourists kept laughing at me. Well, at first I thought they were laughing at me, then I realized they were laughing at my shirt (it says ‘perfect angel massage parlor’). I was seriously paranoid for a while.

king kamehameha (downtown honolulu)

We started off in the direction of the airport, stopping downtown to see King Kamehameha in his cute little skirt, and the palace. The capitol building supposedly looks like a volcano, but it’s a stretch. We saw Chinatown, too; I’d had greater expectations for Chinatown in a place so heavily Asian, but it was quite small.

We figured the H1 would be a parking lot, but it wasn’t bad at all. We returned the car and got to the airport fairly early. Then our flight was delayed another hour and a half; we killed time in the bar, in every single store in the airport, in the bathroom, and sitting at the gate. My knitting was nearly complete, but I was too tired to continue it by the time we got on the plane.

The flight sucked in a huge way, because I can’t sleep on airplanes. It was a DC-10 and we were in the center section of a totally-booked flight. I’d doze off every 10 minutes and wake up crabby, seeing flashes of the stupid movies they were showing. We arrived in Minneapolis around 10:30am on Sunday, stumbling blinkingly out of the airport. I came home, fed the panicky animals, then went right to bed.

the aftermath

I got up, did my usual coffee-rushing, and we got food at Le Cafe Powell (which can only be said with a ridiculous French accent). We boarded the N train to Ocean Beach, because we were determined to see the coast before we left.

The train took an hour, but we made it. It dropped us right at the beach bathrooms, which were scary but also necessary. It wasn’t as cold at the beach as we expected.

We walked a long ways along the water. I was searching for whole sand dollars and beach glass, both of which are usually hard to find but seemed in abundance there. Stephanie was freaking out over the jellyfish, especially when we found a huge one laying there, still quivering. We tried to decide whether it was still alive, and whether it made sense to try to push it back into the ocean. It washed back out anyway, and by now has probably stung an unsuspecting surfer.

My favorite find was the mini-pumpkin with ‘ADDICTION’ scrawled on it in Sharpie marker. What did that mean? Was it some kind of therapy? Write your issue on a gourd and toss it into the ocean? I found it fascinating. I threw it back, on the off chance it might help the victim somehow.

We walked up to the corner of Golden Gate Park, by the weird giant windmill, and caught the bus back to Market Street. It’s a mighty pleasant neighborhood a few blocks down, one where you walk fast and don’t, under any circumstances, make eye contact. We picked up our bags, rolled them down to the BART station, and took the train to the airport. We had to walk about 30 miles to the terminal, since apparently Northwest Airlines hasn’t been keeping up with its protection money payments.

After going through security and discovering they had removed all the food from our terminal, we walked 30 miles back to the main one, shopped at the SFMOMA store (since we didn’t get to the real thing), and ate a veggie burger at BJ. Yes, BJ.

When we got back to the gate, we hung out for a while until they announced they had moved our gate. We went to that one and it was packed with tired-looking Minnesotans. They told us the plane was overbooked. I went to ask the desk people about my meal, wanting to switch it from diabetic to vegetarian, which has better odds for me. The guy told me they didn’t do special meals anymore. I asked if that meant it was safe for everyone, and he didn’t know. I bought some trail mix at the shop just in case.

When they served dinner, our choices were salami (which ended up being pepperoni, to Stephanie’s dismay), and turkey sandwiches. I asked the flight attendant if they had a vegetarian meal. She looked at me as if I had just told her I was hijacking the plane to Venezuela. She said, ‘Well! This has mineral water and carrots, and this protein bar thing.’ I took my meal, since she made me feel as if not accepting it could land me in some trouble with the law.

Within an hour, I had run out of knitting. This was a crappy old 757, not the pimped-out A330 that had just the other day been built specially for us, so there was no in-seat chick flick or overdetailed map to enjoy. I read the in-flight magazine with Lily Tomlin on the cover. I perused the gift catalog with immense interest, offering to buy my sister half the useless junk for Christmas. She seemed to enjoy being interrupted from her reading every 5 minutes.

With an hour and a half left to go, I was bored to death. I took photos out the airplane window. I wrote a poem. I wrote down the pattern for the throw pillows I was making, because I just made it up but they were coming out beautifully. I ate some trail mix. I interrupted Stephanie some more. I organized my bag. I kept trying to check the time on my phone, and kept finding it turned off. I peered out the window at South Dakota, and finally Minnesota. And then we were home, and it was even colder than in California.

Heather and I sprung out of bed at 4am, crammed my car full of luggage, and drove out to my parents’ house, where we found my family milling around the kitchen, tired and crabby. We piled into the big purple minivan, left our coats in the car at the airport, and hopped on a plane. Since coffee rates much higher than vacation on my priorities list, Heather and I were almost the last to board the plane, and found ourselves seated in the very back row. I like to make an entrance.

Any extended time spent with my family is always, um, entertaining. My mom seems a little freaked out over the fact that we’re all now adults and she can’t take care of us like she used to, so she overcompensates. She was convinced I was going to starve to death on the 2-1/2 hour flight to Orlando because I couldn’t eat the breakfast sandwich they were giving everyone else, so she brought half the contents of her kitchen along as sustenance. Every time I looked at her, she was pushing a baggie of food in my direction. Halfway through the flight, she started fidgeting, and announced, “I’m bored.” Heather replied, “I’m going to have you sedated.”

Each time the pilot got on the radio to tell us our cruising altitude or arrival time or to apologize for the unexpected turbulence over Kentuckinois, we wondered if maybe there was something wrong. He was slurring a lot. But everything seemed fine until we tried to reach the Earth again, and then almost died. I watched about a hundred miles of runway rush past before the plane even touched down, and then he slammed on the plane-brakes (or whatever) and we all went lurching forward, convinced the plane was going to pitch over its front end and land us all right in a ditch full of alligators. All the passengers were laughing that hysterical laugh you employ to keep from screaming, “Sweet Jesus, we’re all going to die!” At least, that’s what I was doing. But, seriously, it’s really hard to try to convince your girlfriend, who is terrified of flying in the first place, that she has nothing to worry about when you know you just barely got out of that one alive.

The airport in Orlando is top-notch because it prominently features a Starbucks and a monorail. We monorailed, then shuttled our way to Thrifty Rent-A-Car, where the guy behind the counter was so condescending and evil that it was all I could do to not leap the counter and strangle his sorry ass out of its tortured, pleasureless existence. It’s one thing to be an asshole to me, because I’ll give it right back. But my parents? That’s cause for a smackdown.

I ended up driving a Nissan Sentra, which was clearly the better of the two cars, sad as that may seem. My dad was driving a Hyundai Something. Our first stop was my brother’s house (Scott, the Forgotten Ripley), where he lives with my sister-in-law, Ali, my niece, Kaitie, and two cats I can’t tell apart.

i have eye herpes!

proof jenni was here.

After lunch, the rest of the family headed to the Disney resort where we were spending one night before taking up residence in our rental condo, and Heather and I headed to the Atlantic Ocean.

We took the most direct route, which brought us to Cape Canaveral, and then Cocoa Beach. Since we were unprepared for chillin’ on the beach, we stopped to buy a towel at Ron Jon’s, which is apparently the original store, as if we cared. They would have been happy to sell us a towel with the Ron Jon’s logo on it for the rock-bottom price of $22. We declined and went to the crappy beach shop across the street (the kind with the stinky aquarium full of hermit crabs), and bought an ugly blue towel embroidered with ‘Cocoa Beach’ in pastels for $12. It was the beach souvenir we never wanted, but it would do.

I had the good fortune of parking right in front of a natural foods ice-cream shop that wanted to sell me a sugar-free frozen yogurt sundae, which was awesome, because that’s exactly what I wanted to buy. We headed to the beach with our yogurt, laid out the towel, and sat down to watch the ocean. Heather fed the menacing seagulls raisins, and I watched the cruise ships heading out to sea. She presented her plans for Epcot II, which will feature all the countries America doesn’t like, such as Afghanistan, Iraq, and Libya. We discussed the awesome food they’ll serve there, and arrived at the startling conclusion that we hate all the countries with flatbreads. It’s chilling.

And so was the ocean, dammit. OK, it was January. I picked through shells on the beach, and found myself a whole sand dollar, which later broke apart in my bag. Sigh.

We stopped at a little Cuban cafe for plaintains and Cuban coffee, then headed back to Orlando. We met up with my family having dinner at Disney’s Pop Century resort. The place was bizarre; each of the buildings is named and decorated to correlate with a decade starting with the 1950s. The 1990s building, the one in which we were staying, had giant cellphones on the corners of the building (set to dial 407-W-DISNEY, of course), and huge CDs. The 1980s building had Pac Man across the top. Each of the structures also had various catchphrases from each era in giant letters atop them: ours had ‘You go, girl!’, ‘Y2K’, ‘Yo’, and other such painful reminiscences.

We went up to our room to change. Stephanie noted that even the bathroom wallpaper had a subliminal Mickey pattern hidden in it. Scary. Ali showed up and we piled in the sexymobile to drive over to Pleasure Island, conveniently located near the West End of Downtown Disney. No, I am not joking about Pleasure Island, either. It’s really called that, and I was hoping it would live up to its name. It’s the 21+ section with all the nightclubs, and we were going there to party with Ali’s Disney coworkers.

There wasn’t much going on there at 10pm. We went into one bar and waited fruitlessly for the single functioning air hockey table, listening to a really bad Disney punk cover band. Stephanie ordered a drink that came in a red plastic bucket. The bartender dissed me for ordering a Diet Coke. I know it seems inconceivable for someone to have fun at a Disney nightclub and not be stupid drunk, but, dude. Whatever.

We decided to try another club, so we headed to Mannequin’s. It turned out to be the techno club, complete with rotating dance floor and strobe lights. It was great, and it was crawling with superhot, supergay boys. You can’t have everything, I guess. So we rotated our way slowly around the club about a million times, dancing like a bunch of white girls and having a lot of fun. After a couple drinks, we even managed to lure Heather out onto the floor. Stephanie was in hysterics because every time we got near one of the few obviously un-gay boys in a grey sweater, he would whip out the thumbs-up in our direction.

After a while, Ali’s friends showed up and we decided to go to another club, called Motion. It was pop/hip-hop, packed full of sweaty dancing college students. I was a little disappointed about the lack of rotating floor and dry ice, but it was fun anyway, watching all the girls in the hootchie getup, and the series of about ten different guys I saw staring down Ali’s shirt.

On the way out, a guy came up to bum a cigarette off Heather, and managed to tell us in the first two minutes that he made 100k a year selling timeshares. Ha. We wandered around, and Ali bought a Jello shot in a giant syringe. She was struggling to, uh, inject it, so a girl came up to help, saying, “Suck and push at the same time, that’s how to do it. Suck and push. Teeth aren’t necessary.” So we yelled, “Suck and push!!” to help her along. At one end of Pleasure Island, a cover band called Kabang(!) was playing the greatest hits of the 90s, among others. We stood in the street and danced along with Nirvana, the Violent Femmes, and ‘Sweet Home Alabama’. Some kids formed a three-person mosh pit in front of the stage. One of the guys in the band was wearing vinyl pants. It was hard to tear ourselves away from Kabang(!), but somehow we managed to make it back to the resort, and sleep.