Thursday morning arrived far too early. I got up early, showered, and then went right back to bed. We finally got up about 9:30, and told Wendy, Cindi and Jumi that we’d meet them for the excursion at 11. We had breakfast overlooking Cozumel, and noted with some excitement that we were docked right at Señor Frogs.

We got off the boat, and followed the path into town. It requires navigating a mall built expressly for cruise ship patrons, presumably for those too scared to actually enter MEXICO. Haha. We decided to walk down to the giant Mexican flag, and scope out some of the shops.

this never ceased to amuse me.

We stopped into Cozumel Mart (yes, it’s really called that) and I bought the largest bottle of Evian I could find. Between the hangover and the humidity, I was considering laying down on the side of the road and dying. I drank all my water as we headed back to the dock to meet our excursion shuttle, and I soon determined that the heat was a huge plus, re: sweating off the ickiness. I felt totally fine by the time we headed to the bus.

Another girl on our excursion was not so lucky: she had to have them pull the bus over so she could get out and throw up on the side of the road. We’d seen her at the disco the night before. She looked to be in really rough shape.

Our tour leader was James, and he was awesome. He quizzed us about our knowledge of Spanish (“Do you know tequila? Margarita? Dos Equis? Burrito?”) and introduced the driver as Speedy Gonzales. He told us it was a half-hour drive to San Gervasio, but that Speedy would make it in 20 minutes. He was correct!

San Gervasio is a national park containing Mayan ruins, though the site we were visiting was private lands adjoining the area. I was excited to see the ruins, but let’s not pretend: we were really there to ride ATVs. The history was just a bonus.

We sat and watched a safety video, learned how to shift gears on our ATVs, and then they handed out bandanas to wear under our awesome helmets. I also saw a dude carrying a tiny monkey curled in his hand. SO CUTE.

I’d read up on the ATV tour, and people recommended bringing a second bandana to wear over your face, because the trails are really dusty. However, it had just rained, so that wasn’t a problem. We got mud instead!

We drove down the main paths, and got up some decent speed on our ATVs. I loved it a lot. Then we turned off into side-paths, which were all huge rocks and pits full of water. At times, it seemed like we were riding through rivers. Our legs and feet were drenched in muddy water. It was awesome, even though occasionally I felt like my ATV was going to tip over. Matt said I’d be more likely to slide off the seat, so I started worrying about that instead.

We arrived at a temple that was used as an observatory. One of the guides explained the Mayan calendar, which ends in 2012, and covered a bunch of popular end-of-the-world mythology. He also explained that the Mayans were very short, smart, and cute, just like him.

at the observatory

drawing the mayan calendar

dirty feet

my ATV

at the gravesites

The next site we visited was a series of tombs. They said that the main tomb (and the only one that had been excavated) contained a Mayan king wearing a jade mask, which was now in the national museum in Mexico City. The other gravesites were the members of his family, who were all killed when he died, in accordance with Mayan tradition.

tombs

We finished our ride around 2pm, and I was impressed we actually got to spend so much time riding the ATVs. Half of us had blisters on our hands from holding on, and we were all covered in mud. My Adidas were full of water, and made a squishing sound when I walked. Thankfully, I’d brought flipflops in my bag, so I took off my sneakers and carried them instead. They were gross. If you take this excursion and it’s rained recently, don’t wear shoes you want to keep!

happy goats

our atv photos (jumi bought them)

The shuttle took us back into Cozumel, stopping again to let the girl puke on the street. We walked back down to Cozumel Mart to buy tacky souvenirs, because it seemed to have all those bases covered. We even picked up a bottle of absinthe for $11, and a big mesh bag to carry my muddy shoes in. We were an interesting sight, all covered in dirt and wearing matching bandanas.

Once shopping was accomplished, it was time for the important stuff: Señor Frogs. We were still two yards shy of a first down.

The place was in good form despite being mostly empty. There were two women from our ship being pretend-gangbanged by the servers. Everyone was wearing balloon hats. Also, in the women’s room, there’s a drawing of a dude with a flap over his parts; when you lift the flap, an alarm goes off in the bar. I had to do that more than once because it reminded me of the Safe House.

the view from señor frogs!

DIRTY LEGS

my atv blister!

We had yards and food (only half of which we could eat), and Cindi learned dirty words from the server boys (such as ‘chupa mi pito!’). We had a Minneapolis moment when Prince’s When Doves Cry came on (and I was surprised to realize I know all the words). Once we finished eating, Matt and I made a beeline for the swinging bar stools. Could there possibly be a better idea than that?

We hung out on the swings once the tab was settled and Cindi and Jumi headed off to go shopping and return to the ship. Cindi returned a little while later, handed the bartender (Humberto) a 500-peso bill, and asked, “what kind of shot can I get with this?” He brought her Cuervo. GAG.

Matt and Wendy and I had better-quality tequila, talked to the bartender about Mexican futbol (the local teams are the Orioles de Cozumel and the Hurricanes de Cancun) , and spent far too much time messing with Wendy’s balloon hat. That’s because it was a giant green penis complete with balls and, uh, a white string hanging off the end.

We waited til the last possible moment, then headed for the ship. We could see it from where we were sitting, and were pretty much experts at arriving there late anyway. We learned that in the Bahamas. And St Thomas. And maybe Puerto Rico; I don’t exactly remember that.

sunset in cozumel

wendy’s italian friend with the awesome hair (in the balloon hat)

this picture sums up the cruise:
wendy holding a yard and penis balloon, yelling “I LOVE AMERICA!!!” in front of the coast guard ship.

my bag full of yard glasses, filthy shoes, and awesome souvenirs

Re-boarding the ship, they didn’t even bother putting my bag through the scanner, because the yard glasses would’ve spilled all over the place. To those of you who are warned repeatedly about sneaking liquor and other contraband onto cruise ships: I’ve heard they’ll confiscate it on other boats, but Costa couldn’t care less. I guess that means you should probably just take Costa cruises from now on. You’ll love it, I promise.

I washed my shoes out in the shower, and couldn’t believe how dirty they were. I stuck the showerhead inside them and let it run for a long time, but the water never came out clear. We put our shoes out on the balcony, hoping they’d dry in the sun. Matt also took a picture of me standing naked on the balcony, but that will thankfully not be posted on this here internet. Nobody saw me but him and the pilot boat! I hope.

matt’s shoes

Cindi called me with a quote from Wendy: “Write this in your little notebook! I’m dirty and drunk and I have a big green dick!” Wendy then apparently got in the shower, singing to herself and laughing the whole time. We showered and sat outside in towels, watching the sun set. Once it was dark, we had a very important life goal to achieve: gettin’ it on on the balcony of a cruise ship, overlooking the ocean. Rating: A+++ WOULD DO AGAIN.

We had meat locker time til 8:30, then got up to eat. Everything was closed but the pizza station, where we learned a little-known fact: instead of picking up whatever they have at the buffet, you can order your own pizza. They were way better than the buffet stuff, too. We had dessert out on the back deck, which is where we found Jumi. She said that Cindi and Wendy were still sleeping. We went down to the card room to play Phase 10.

The show in Casanova started at 11, and it was called “Rock ‘n Roll Couple.” It was in the style of all the previous shows, with dancing and goofy games. My favorite part was when they had the balloon game we’d seen last time as part of Sexy Games. I was sad that Wendy missed it, but she and Cindi seemed really, really dedicated to sleeping. And we couldn’t really argue with that, since we were all worn out. Though it was Sexy Night at the disco, we decided to pass and head to bed. Because of the time change, it was already 2am anyway.

We got up bright and early and headed down to the giant resort commissary. To Disney’s credit, they had plenty of food I could eat, with the glaring exception of the Magic Kingdom. I found myself some oatmeal, and engineered my own Disney depth charge, by procuring two shots of espresso from some very confused ladies behind the counter, then filling the rest of the cup up with their crappy coffee. But it was fine.

We took the shuttle to Epcot and got right on Spaceship Earth, Heather’s favorite ride, ever. Now, Heather and I have wildly different tastes in our choice of Disney entertainment. She likes the slower, educational rides, especially if they feature space or dinosaurs. I’d prefer to avoid Disney entertainment altogether, but if it’s my only option, I choose the fast, loud, mindless rides that make you wonder if you’re going to puke. Too much learning makes me fidget. So we compromised, and went on both types of rides.

Spaceship Earth stalled twice, but we managed to escape the giant silver golfball alive (after a bone-chilling brush with the AT&T promos at the end). According to Spaceship Earth, the future of humanity, the perfection of all our accomplishments, will be videoconferencing (via AT&T networks, of course). And here I was thinking it was world peace, or something. I’m a little ashamed.

After that, we rode the Test Track, which made us scream, and Mission to Mars, in which Heather almost vomited on takeoff. She’ll never be an astronaut. Then we went to the Universe of Energy, which I have always found really amusing, because it’s sponsored by Exxon. (BTW, doesn’t Disney bring in enough cash to pay for their own rides? What the hell?) This was one of those rides that annoys me: first, because it’s educational, and second, because they stall you by making you watch a too-long and unfunny film, in this case starring Ellen Degeneres and Bill Nye the Science Guy. During these films, I mostly become irritated with the kids standing too near me and wonder whether their parents will notice if I elbow them in the head.

After the Exxon commercial we walked over to the countries in Epcot. I like this part, because it has shopping and food other than hamburgers, fries, and Mickey-shaped ice cream. Mexico was under construction. We got our picture taken with a giant troll in Norway. In China, Heather got bubble tea, while I searched for merchandise featuring the good chairman. In Germany, we bought two pretzels and a pop for $8. In Italy, we stopped.

That’s because Italy’s best feature was its boys. Since Disney is all about being authentic in an over-the-top way, the people in the countries are actually from the countries. When the boy handing me my cappuccino said ‘my pleasure’ with that accent, I almost fell over. When he said it a second time, I knew I had to sit down. Near the gelato boy, of course. Damn.

After coffee, we rushed through the United States and went on to Japan. The shops in Japan seemed to know I was there, because they had stocked everything I ever wanted to buy. I picked up and carried about half the contents of the store around with me, then put most of it back and still managed to spend almost $90. They had Hello Kitty stuff I’d never seen before, Totoro, and a million maneki neko. I’m pretty sure it was my favorite place at Disney World.

After Japan, we went to Morocco. We split the vegetarian platter, with hummus, tabouleh, and the best lentil salad I’d ever eaten. We shopped and checked out the henna tattoo artist. Then we wandered through the less-interesting countries of France, the UK, and Canada. I suppose Canada is interesting to some people, but it’s next door to me. I was unimpressed. Although I kind of dig all the maple leaf shirts; it’s a much better fashion choice than stars and stripes.

After more wandering and shopping, we stopped so Heather could have a cigarette. The smoking areas at Disney are really funny. At a few secret locations in each park, which can be located using the map and secret decoder ring, they have a garbage can with a big ashtray on top. This is the designated smoking area. The smokers huddle around it, looking guilty, and their non-smoking companions linger nearby, trying to look nonchalant. If you are caught smoking elsewhere on the property, you will be trampled by college students dressed as giant furry Disney characters.

We circled around back to Mexico so we could sit in the sun and share our nachos with the local wildlife. The herons picked bits of tomato from our fingers, and then made demanding honking noises when they felt neglected. My parents called to say they were nearby, so we walked over by the Imaginarium and waited. While Heather made phone calls, I laid on the bench next to her and dozed off in the sun. I didn’t care much about being at Disney, but I was loving having escaped the overcast weather in Minnesota, and meant to enjoy it as much as possible.

We finally found my family in the big freezer of a building where you can sample Coca-Cola products from around the universe, and get the soles of your shoes so gummy that you make weird sticky noises when you walk. We milled around near the fountain in front of Spaceship Earth while my mom tried to coordinate what seemed to be the most complicated photo-op ever. You would think it wouldn’t be a problem to get a group of eight people standing together and smiling long enough to take a picture, but you would be wrong. At least when it’s my family that’s concerned.

After we ditched the Ripleys, I went to the bathroom for the 18th time that day, and Heather got an ice cream. We went to The Living Seas, which turned out to be a really poor excuse for an aquarium, and then took a boat ride through The Land. It’s all about the future of farming, and turned out to be more interesting than it sounds, because it had giant mutant vegetables. It was like ‘It’s a Small World’, only the kids have been replaced by 50-lb zucchinis. That’s hard to beat.

We went on Spaceship Earth again, dodged AT&T, and picked up my Japan-stuff at the front gate on the way to the shuttle. On the bus, we eavesdropped on a conversation between a couple from New Hampshire, and an old couple from Minnesota (with embarrassingly ‘Fargo’ accents). NH-guy said, “I’ve never met a Minnesotan I didn’t like!” I whispered to Heather, “I bet I could give him a run for his money.”

We found the sexymobile back at Pop Century, and drove it to our new Orlando residence, the Celebration World Resort.

Resorts in Orlando are surreal. There don’t seem to be any regular hotels; they’re all located on these giant plantations with elaborate entry gates, guard-booths, and palm-lined drives. Even the ones that look like glorified apartment complexes, like ours. Celebration World was just down the way from Disney, and the way I remembered how to get there was as follows: take 192, which is easy to recall, because it’s one of those important octets in an IP address (duh), take a left at the giant inflatable Elvis, then a left just past A World of Orchids, which was featured in the movie Adaptation. We stopped there long enough to find our sleeper-sofa in the giant maze of rooms that made up our suite, changed clothes, and headed to Universal Citywalk.

Universal Citywalk is the Downtown Disney of Universal Studios, since theme parks are simply not allowed to do anything original. We pulled into the parking with our $8 in hand, and the girl in the booth said she’d give us VIP parking for $5, since she liked my purse. We were suspicious, figuring it was one of those traps they lure out-of-towners into in order to make them join a cult, or purchase a time-share or something. But, no, it was just VIP parking. We took about 7 miles of moving sidewalk into Citywalk, and looked at the map for a restaurant that might have something I could eat. We decided on Bob Marley’s, and fought our way through crowds of fratboys to get there. Citywalk had the same vibe as Pleasure Island – theme bars and clubs, Jello shots, drunk college students in the street. It also had the added attraction of girls flashing their tits in front of Pat O’Brien’s for Mardi Gras beads.

At Bob Marley’s, I freaked out over the awesome food. I had vegetable/sweet-potato patties (kind of like Jamaican empanadas), yuca fries, and bammy. It was so good, I was even able to completely ignore the ‘One Love’ singalong. After dinner, we headed to Pat O’Brien’s to meet Alina and her sheriff’s-department krew for her birthday party. When I showed the bouncer my ID, he told me that he had just been staying in Minneapolis over Christmas, about 10 blocks from where I live, because he was originally from here. He put on my wristband, stamped it, and told us to have a good time. When he stamped Heather’s hand, he pointed to it and said, “Minneapolis!” It wasn’t until we got to the entrance of the piano bar to pay cover that I even realized what he was doing. Minneapolis got us in for free.

We met Alina and her friends, and everybody was supercool and a lot of fun. Even though Alina’s only worked for the sheriff’s department for two months, it seemed like she had known everyone forever, and it was a really close group. I was a little psyched that two of the guys there worked in the morgue. And Robin was completely awesome. At one point, she was up in front of the stage, leading the whole room in a hand-motion rendition of ‘Joy to the World’ by Three Dog Night. And in my typical vacation style, I even managed to hear the hometown classic, ‘Purple Rain’.

Heather drank two cosmos and three vodka-tonics. I drink a lot of Diet Coke. I was sitting near the wall, and every time this drunk woman walked past me to go to the bathroom, she bumped into me. The last time, she leaned over and apologized drunkenly and profusely. I said it was fine and waved her away as she kept slobbering on me. The next time she passed, she smacked my shoulder deliberately.

I wanted to fight. Admire my restraint.

I figured her life was bad enough as it was, since, as Heather pointed out, her much-older and possibly even drunker date looked like a giant polish sausage. They made a depressing couple.

We wished Alina a happy birthday and left around 1am. We decided to get something to eat, and somehow wound up at Denny’s near our hotel (because, of the late-night dining options, Denny’s is the one that actually has a gardenburger). As I paid the check at the front counter, the manager kept knocking stuff over and making a mess. We laughed at him, and he said it was because I was making him nervous. I asked why, and he replied, “It’s that red hair and beautiful smile.” I didn’t quite know how to feel about being hit on by the Denny’s night manager, but I had completely forgotten about it by the time I passed out in the most uncomfortable sofa bed on the planet.

Day four of the roadtrip began with Jay running (healthy) while Heather and I circled Memphis in search of espresso (unhealthy). No one should be that happy to find a Starbucks, but there it is. We were thrilled.

We walked next door to Graceland and bought tickets for the Platinum Tour, which entitled us to see not only the estate, but also Elvis’ cars and airplanes and some other rooms full of tacky bedazzled crap (as if Graceland itself didn’t have enough of that already). I mean, so much Elvis we wanted to puke (except for Heather, who couldn’t get enough). Graceland sort of reminded me of the House on the Rock, only about ten times bigger. And it’s by no means palatial, it’s basically just your average larger suburban home with its own graveyard. Not only that, it’s in a shitty neighborhood full of pawn shops and those places that cash your paycheck in advance. What does that say about Elvis’ effect on property values? I don’t want to think about it.

Right before reached the gravesite, our audio tour herded us into a large room where all the glory that is/was Elvis culminated. The walls were covered in gold records, and mannequins sported the most glorious of his Liberace-esque jumpsuits. A huge monitor played his final concert, ‘Aloha from Hawaii’. At this point, I realized that I had already seen that concert no less than ten times since I had arrived in Memphis, not even 24 hours before. How was that possible? Everywhere we went, Fat Elvis was sweating and crooning at us in much-larger-than-lifesize. It was enough to give me nightmares.

Then we saw the gravesite. It’s not exactly proof that Elvis is dead, but it’s good enough for me.

We went to lunch, then to Sun Studios. The rockabilly hipsters running the place thought they were way too cool for the rest of us, so the lack of enthusiasm on the tour was kind of a drag. However, I did hold the microphone Elvis used, and I stood in a room where Johnny Cash once stood. Did you ever notice how un-Elvis the Man in Black is? It’s comforting in a way.

Funny thing is, there’s not that much to do in Memphis. As I already mentioned, Beale Street isn’t great. There’s only so much BBQ that a human being can consume, especially when you’re not that into BBQ. So we took the logical next step, which was to visit the world’s largest putt-putt. It was there that we met Jeff Manager.

That night around 10pm, while waiting for our food at Isaac Hayes’ restaurant (uh-huh, you know it) and watching old Prince videos on overhead monitors, Jay and Heather convinced me to go call Jeff Manager and ask him to find us a real bar in Memphis. So I did. Jeff said he’d meet us after work at 1am at this place called Metro, across the street from an abandoned Sears building. So, fine. We went back to the hotel for a while, at which point Jay decided to stay while we went out. Heather and I found the bar easily, tried to park safely away from the homeless people peeing on the Sears building, and went inside. The moment I stepped in the door, a big shirtless guy grabbed me and yelled, “dance with me!!” And that moment, Heather and I found ourselves at gay karaoke in Memphis.

We stayed until 3am, and had an awesome time. Jeff sang two songs, high-kicked, pranced, and did the splits while we sat with his friend and friend’s boyfriend and laughed and cheered him on. We heard stories of putt-putt drama and life in Memphis. I admit that I had a hometown moment singing along with Purple Rain. Afterwards, we drove back to the hotel and I climbed into bed while Heather showered. The last thing I remember before falling asleep was Jay asking, “You’re not going to sleep in your clothes, are you?”

Well, yes.