How's It Going To End?

On Friday night, the Tiki Gal and I went to Dale and Carol's for cards. During the past week, we'd been half-joking that because we had had such a good time at the concert the previous weekend, we should go see the same show in Chicago in August. We decided to stop joking and get serious about it on Friday night so Carol is currently working on arranging our trip. Dale and I had originally thought we might surprise the girls and arrange the trip ourselves but as you've seen from my past experiences, I shouldn't be arranging a trip to the grocery store much less to Chicago. Dale has had a bad experience with coordinating a vacation as well - involving nightly bed checks for scorpions - so we decided it was in the best interest of all of us (and maybe for national security as well. After all, Chicago has already burned once…) if we let Carol make the travel plans.

During our trip to Dallas, we found a beer and wine store near our hotel so we picked up some new beers to try.

Leinenkugel's 1888 Bock

Color: Amber

Skunkiness: 0 skunks. As Carol so succinctly put it, "Not skunky, but funky."

Taste: Although the label said it was a malty beer, we didn't taste much malt. We thought it had more of a bitter hop taste than anything.

Comments: The girls summed this beer up better than I ever could. Carol said it had a "whang." The Tiki Gal said she'd rather have Budweiser. These are not ringing endorsements.

Carol Rating: 1 on her scale of 1 or 5.

Rating: 2.5 pints out of 5.

Maredsous 8 Belgian Dubbel

Color: Dark chocolate with a creamy head.

Skunkiness: 0 skunks. It smelled sweet.

Taste: Rich, creamy and malty with a citrus tone.

Comments: This beer is similar to Chimay and as I've noted here before, Chimay is one of our favorites. Maredsous 8 may even be richer than Chimay.

Carol Rating: 5

Rating: 4.5 pints.

Paulaner Salvator

Comments: We've had this beer many times before. It is still one of our favorites and we are extremely happy that we can now buy it locally.

Rating: 4.5 pints.

We also managed to play some cards. The Tiki Gal won at Cutthroat. I'd have to search through all our various score books but I don't think that has ever happened before. We then split two games of Pitch. Dale and I won the first game and the girls won the second.

As I mentioned in my previous post, on Sunday after the Jimmy Buffett concert we made a startling discovery. It all began in the elevator on our way down to breakfast. A woman wearing a sorority tee-shirt was in the elevator when we boarded. It was hard to tell how old she was because she had obviously had a hard evening the night before but I think she was between twenty and seventy. While the elevator was descending, we were talking amongst ourselves and Dale said something funny. The woman looked over at Dale and asked "How the hell can you be so perky?" with a look of real disgust on her face. We laughed and started talking about the perils of concerts. She then actually said ".. and I don't know why my ass and legs are so sore." Dale mentioned that this might be information she wanted to keep to herself - for obvious reasons. Then the elevator doors opened and she shuffled slowly and carefully away.

During breakfast, Carol observed that we tended to meet really interesting people on our trips. We then determined that Dale and Carol don't meet these interesting folks when they vacation without the Tiki Gal and me. However, the Tiki family always meets those kinds of people no matter where we go. We then started putting the facts together: my red light curse, my vacation misadventures, the fact that restaurants are frequently out of whatever I order, dirty dancing lunch ladies, and freak weather patterns. These events are all very similar to the movie The Truman Show. In that movie, Jim Carrey plays a man named Truman Burbank who is raised from an infant to adulthood inside a reality show. The show is set inside a huge studio that appears to Truman to be a city on an island. Everyone in his world is played by an actor, including his family, his best friend and his wife. The director of the show puts Truman in various situations to drive ratings but for the most part, Truman's life is managed so that things run smoothly.

Our theory is that my life is being managed similar to The Truman Show except the technology has been greatly improved. Instead of restricting me to the inside of a set built in a studio, spy satellites and miniature cameras follow me wherever I go in the world. Whereas Truman's life was idyllic in nature, however, the producers have decided to throw as many weird situations at me as possible in hopes that I will crack. How else can you explain the fact that on a drive from Tulsa to Dallas and back, I hit exactly two green lights? Two out of hundreds. The odds of hitting just two green lights have to be slightly worse than the odds for winning the lottery. Obviously, the producers are keeping track of me with a spy satellite and are changing almost every light to red just as I arrive. This must be the running gag in the show, right? Everyone laughs when the Tiki Man pounds the steering wheel in frustration at the thirty-fourth red light in a row.

Also, how else do you explain the dirty dancing lunch lady? She was obviously a cast member paid to do that, right? Please say she was. Please...

The final clue I needed was provided this past weekend. As I thought more about the similarities between my life and The Truman Show, I decided I needed to watch the movie again since it has been quite some time since I'd seen it. Unfortunately, Blockbuster didn't have it so I checked Amazon to see if it was available for pay per view. No such luck. I had about given up on seeing it again when the Tiki Gal turned on the TV on Saturday morning. The TV just happened to be tuned to TBS and guess what had just started five minutes earlier. That's right. The Truman Show. Coincidence... maybe. Serendipity... definitely. Or maybe, just like in The Truman Show, someone out there is trying to show me the truth about what is really going on in my life.

As I watched The Truman Show, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the use of product placement. The Truman Show was on twenty-four hours a day so there were no commercial breaks. Therefore, the producers had Truman’s wife pitching products like lawn mowers and hot cocoa. If my producers happen to be reading this, I think that Porsche and Apple would be wonderful sponsors for my show. Also, “This episode brought to you by Royal Caribbean… Get out there!” has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?

Since I have the producers’ attention, I’d also like to suggest a plot line that would really bring in the ratings. What if the Tiki Man was actually a bar tender at his very own tiki bar on an island in the Caribbean? The Tiki Gal and Carol could braid hair and Dale could be in the house band. Just think of the ratings bonanza during spring break when you are filming all the stupid things the college kids do in the tiki bar. I would watch that. When I move to the island, however, I’d like to take my Porsche and all my Apple products. 

I am now curious about the status of my friends and family. Are they actors getting paid to be a part of my life? If so, the Tiki Gal deserves a lot more than she’s making – no matter how much it is. She has gone way beyond the call of duty at times. (Like that time in Las Vegas… uh, on second thought, forget I said anything.) I’d also like to applaud the casting of a few of my family members. That was a really inspired talent search and couldn’t have been more diabolical or funny. I tip my hat to you.

I do realize that some people will think I’m a few fries short of a Happy Meal. There is even a medical condition for people who think like me called Truman Show Delusion. I only partially believe my life is an elaborate charade being enacted purely for entertainment or research purposes, however. Mostly, I think the things that happen to me can be blamed on being in the wrong place at the right time. Besides, my life is highly entertaining. I wouldn’t want to walk off the stage like Truman at the end of his show. I’m too interested in finding out the answer to the question, "How’s it going to end?"

The Fifteen Passenger Van

When we checked into our hotel on Friday, we were told that a shuttle service would be available to take us to and from the concert on Saturday night. This was good news because we've had bad luck getting transportation back from the concert in the past. It is inconvenient, to say the least, to take a car and try to park near the arena because of all the other cars trying to do the same thing. The majority of the parking lots are filled with partying Parrotheads in RVs so there isn't much parking anyway.

Last year, we took a cab to the concert and asked the cabbie for a phone number to call afterwards so we could get a ride back. He apparently gave us his personal cell number instead of the cab company's main number. We spent about thirty minutes trying to call him and getting pushed straight to voice mail. We finally called our hotel and got some help getting a cab called out and ended up waiting almost an hour in some chilly weather. Trying to avoid that same fate this year, we signed up with the shuttle service at the hotel.

When we signed up, we were told that our shuttle bus would take us to the concert and would then wait on us to return afterwards. We were sold on the idea that our shuttle would not be taking any passengers except for our group since this would theoretically mean that we wouldn't have to wait on the shuttle to drop off other people before picking us up for the return trip to the hotel. If only it had gone that smoothly.

We were told to meet the shuttle in front of the hotel at 5:25 for a 5:30 departure. We were there on time and the four of us (Dale, Carol, the Tiki Gal and me) squeezed into the back seat of a fifteen passenger van. Once all the seats were filled except for the driver's seat, we noticed that there were still a few people standing at the door of the van trying to get in. The driver poked his head in the door and counted us. There were fourteen people in the fifteen passenger van. He looked a bit confused, checked his list of expected passengers, then poked his head back in the van and counted us all again. Apparently, he didn't like the way the numbers were adding up so he grabbed the guy who signed us up for the shuttle service earlier in the day. This guy then poked his head in the door and counted us yet again. We thought this was pretty amusing, to say the least. The driver and the sign-up guy then conferred for a few minutes. The driver then stuck his head back in the door and - looking at our group in the back seat - asked if we could squeeze in to let the other folks on. Now we are not large people but we are all (more or less) full sized adults. We were already packed into a seat no bigger than a normal bench in a full sized SUV. In order to squeeze in any more, we would have had to learn more about Dale and Carol - and they about us - then any of us probably cared to know. We politely told the driver that we would not be squeezing any more, thank you very much.

Since the extra people weren't getting in our van, the manager led them away. I hope they made it to the concert. As the rest of this story will show, I'm not positive that they did.

The driver climbed into the fifteen passenger van bringing us up to a total of fifteen people, and off we went. On the way, Carol mentioned that some hoop earrings she bought at Sam Moon earlier in the day had spring loaded clasps instead of the pierced ear clasp that she had expected. I had threatened to wear some pirate-like hoop earrings with my dew rag earlier so the girls decided it would be fun to put Carol's hoop earring on me and take a picture to send to my daughter. Of course, the Tiki Gal told my daughter that I had gotten my ear pierced. These are the things we do for fun - we try to embarrass our children as often as possible. I am quite good at it, by the way.

The driver told us his name was Aziz and announced his mobile phone number so that we could contact him after the concert if we had any problems. After he had announced his number twice, a lady near the front of the van said "What was your number again?" Aziz patiently gave his number again. She then tried to repeat just the area code and had two of the three digits wrong. He repeated the phone number again. And again. And again. She was apparently in full margarita mode already. A few minutes later, Aziz's phone rang. When he answered a lady just in front of us in the van said "Hi Aziz. It's me. Just wanted to make sure this was the right number." We all thought this was really funny. Even Aziz.

We arrived at the stadium without further incident and Aziz let us off the van at a corner and told us he would pick us up at the same spot after the concert. We all believed him too, which means Aziz has a future in politics.

After the concert ended we made our way through the throngs back to our pickup point. Most of our fellow passengers were there but neither Aziz nor the van was anywhere to be seen. We waited patiently and the rest of the passengers arrived but Aziz still had not. Finally, Dale called Aziz to find out what was going on. Aziz said he was on the way and would be there shortly. Again, we believed him proving that Aziz will be a member of congress some day. After thirty minutes of waiting, Aziz called Dale and asked if we had gotten on a shuttle yet. We thought this was a strange question since we were supposed to be on Aziz’s shuttle and, obviously, we were not with Aziz. Dale informed him that we were still standing beside the road waiting to be picked up. Aziz again said he would be there shortly. We were beginning to doubt Aziz at this point.

Finally, after forty-five minutes of waiting, Aziz pulls up in his van. We jumped on quickly and went directly to the back seat. Not surprisingly, the fifteen passenger van filled up with fourteen passengers but there were still people waiting to get on. How did that work out? We brought fourteen people in the van, we went to the concert, and after the concert there were more than fourteen people waiting to go back to the hotel. Did some of those people reproduce while in the concert? This is not such a far-fetched idea, actually. As I mentioned in my previous post, there are dirty dancing lunch ladies on the prowl at Jimmy Buffett concerts. Anything is possible.

Aziz again asked if someone could allow these extra people to squeeze in. Some folks in the front with much more generous hearts than ours did actually pile on top of each other to allow everyone to get in the van. Aziz then pulled forward about ten feet and promptly stopped because a train was blocking the road. After the train had passed, Aziz drove across the train tracks, pulled a highly illegal u-turn, drove up on the sidewalk with the right front tire, and then drove back down the road in the other direction.

During the drive back to the hotel, Aziz told us that one of the other shuttle drivers had only picked up two of his ten passengers after the concert so Aziz was trying to get the rest of the ten back to the hotel and that was why we had extra people in our van. I guess you don’t need to understand the number line to be a shuttle driver.

Also during the drive back to the hotel, a really creepy looking guy began asking all of us if we wanted to go to a nearby bar when we got back to the hotel. One of my rules of thumb is that I don’t go to bars with creepy looking guys that I met on a shuttle so when Aziz stopped and let the creepy guy and his potential victims… uh, new friends, off at the bar, we stayed on and were finally dropped off at the hotel. Needless to say, Aziz did not get a tip.

I would chalk this up to the Charlie Brown curse but someone let a little secret slip the next morning at breakfast so I now know the real story. Stay tuned for a conspiracy so shocking that Geraldo Rivera may have to stop digging for Jimmy Hoffa in order to break it open.

A Fist Full of Dollars

The best way to tell if you had a good time over the weekend is to gauge how tired you are on Monday evening. I'm at about a seven on a ten-point fatigue scale right now. The Tiki Gal and I had a great time with Dale and Carol at the Jimmy Buffett concert this past weekend. In fact, we had such a good time that its going to take at least four or five blog entries to tell about it. This entry will concentrate on the concert because, after all, that was the focus of the weekend. Forthcoming entries will describe an interesting shuttle experience, my new found realization that I'm the star of a Truman Show knockoff, the travelling Tiki Bar and Parrothead Bay, 

and the unexpected pleasure of sipping drinks beneath a row of palm trees in a shopping district in Frisco, Texas. But first, the main event.

We arrived at Pizza Hut Park in Frisco about an hour before the concert was to start. After buying commemorative shirts, we started looking for beer. We found a Land Shark booth, and based on past experiences with concert margaritas, the girls decided they would have Land Shark Lagers as well. It was a big moment for all of us when the girls were handed their very own cups of overpriced beer. It was such a big moment that we had to take pictures.

With beers in hand we decided to walk around for a bit before making our way to our seats. It is always fun to check out what folks are wearing. For instance, this guy was in full Jack Sparrow costume. We found some empty seats at the top of the stadium and sat and watched the sights while we drank our beers. The following pictures show the stage and the still mostly empty

 stadium and Dale's feet.

 

Once Dale and I finished our Land Sharks, we bought some really overpriced Dos Equis at a Beers of the World stand that we had noticed while wandering around. The Dos Equis were better than the Land Sharks but we didn't do an official rating. We need more controlled conditions to properly rate a beer than the concert experience would allow. Also, we had downed a margarita before leaving the hotel so we weren't in prime rating condition. Anyway, with fresh beers in hand (the girls were still working on the last three-quarters of their Land Sharks) we made our way down to the field to find our seats. Carol did her usual outstanding job of arranging our trip so we had seats on row twenty of one of the sections closest to the stage. Even better, we were right on the aisle. I had seat number four as you can see here.

As we waited for the concert to start, we talked to the security guard who spent the entire concert in the aisle beside us. She was a real hoot with many good stories to tell. One of the time honored traditions of Buffett concerts is that many people bring beach balls to bat around before and during the concert. As the stadium started to fill, the beach balls started to fly. Someone broke out the biggest beach ball I've ever seen but the security team snatched it pretty quickly. I guess they were afraid it was so big it could injure someone. Or they just really wanted a huge ball.

While the balls were bouncing, we noticed a woman of middling years coming down the aisle with her husband or boyfriend. She was wearing a bikini top that was about three sizes too small so she was as overexposed as Zac Efron. As she made her way down a row just ahead of us, a lady told her she was falling out of her top. She responded by flashing her boob at the lady and everyone else in a two mile radius. Somehow, I missed this sight. Based on the reaction of the guy in front of me, however, I was the lucky one. I was afraid he was going to be sick. (Just a small rant... Have you ever noticed that once women reach a certain age, their desire to wear inappropriate clothing is inversely proportional to how good they actually would look in that clothing? This phenomenon is most apparent on cruises, Caribbean beaches, and at Jimmy Buffett concerts. Not that guys are any better. Pregnant men in Speedos are not good for your digestion either.)

Finally, Jimmy took the stage. He put on an excellent show, as usual, with a good mix of new songs and old favorites. He played a few songs that aren't yet on albums such as A Lot to Drink About, Surfing in a Hurricane, and Summer School (or SummerZcool like the tour name?) Of course, he also played Margaritaville, Cheeseburger in Paradise, and Fins. I can't imagine there is a better concert experience in the world than doing fins to the left, fins to the right with a stadium full of happy Parrotheads. The Tiki Gal and I have been to see Buffett in Dallas the last four years in a row, three of those with Dale and Carol, and I think this year was the best overall concert of the four. Carol has seen nine Buffett concerts and Dale has seen at least sixteen if not more and they said this was one of the better ones as well. What a treat to get to see a guy doing what he loves, not because he has to but just because he wants to. I think Jimmy may be on to something.

During the concert, a couple of odd things happened and, of course, they happened to me. First, a middle-aged lady of some size danced her way down the aisle and took up residence next to Dale. She was there for quite a while before the security guard told her to find her seat. It just so happens that her seat was on the other end of our row so she squeezed past Dale, Carol and then the Tiki Gal. The rows weren't very wide so it was a tight fit even though we were all standing (you don't sit at a Buffett concert.) When she got to me, I backed up until my knees were right up against my chair and tried to let her squeeze past. Unfortunately for me, she had another idea. She stopped directly in front of me and proceeded to practice her Dirty Dancing routine on me. I was shocked, astonished, nauseated and flabbergasted all at once. I looked over at the Tiki Gal and saw that she was also shocked but there was also quite a bit of amusement in her expression. Carol wasn't bothering with shock at all. She just went straight to hysterical fits of laughter. I had no idea what to do. This lady was grinding against me like her life depended on it and I didn't even have a dollar for her. Afterwards, Dale said he would have started grabbing body parts to even the score. I have to admit that, at the time, this never crossed my mind. Maybe it was because she resembled all the lunch ladies I ever had at school rolled into one. All I could do was hold on and hope she finished soon... and hope a hot shower would wash away that feeling of being defiled.

A little while later as I lay whimpering in a puddle, another older lady of some size came dancing down the aisle and, once again, sidled up next to Dale. Again, the security guard told her to find her seat and guess who had an empty seat right next to him. That's right, it was me. She squeezed her way down the row and while I was traumatized by flashbacks, went right on past me. Since she hadn't openly groped me, I thought maybe she would be okay as a neighbor. I'm sad to say that she was a big, big Buffett fan, however, and she insisted on dancing to the songs. Her dancing consisted of draping herself across my back and swaying to the music. This wasn't as bad as the grinding routine from earlier, but it was still a little unsettling. After a while, it was also very warm - she was generating some body heat. Luckily, intermission hit and we got to sit down. Not so luckily, she took up her seat and a good portion of mine. I tried to compensate by shifting toward the Tiki Gal and so I ended up sitting on the crack between my chair and hers. Not a comfortable position, I have to admit. Once the intermission was over, my two-hundred ounces of overpriced beer was needing to hit the exits so I happily sprinted out of there to spend some quality time in the restroom. When I got back to my row, I was not disappointed to find that my seatmate had disappeared. Strangely, she never came back. Where did she go? Maybe she and the grinder met up. I hope so - they deserved each other.

After the encore and the lights came up, we made our way out of the arena with hopes that Jimmy would keep coming back at least a few more years. And next year, I'm bringing a fist full of dollar bills.

Fish out of Water

I just wanted to share a few miscellaneous thoughts this week as I'm eagerly anticipating the trip to Dallas for the Jimmy Buffett concert this weekend and am finding it hard to concentrate on anything else.

I attempted to make a drink to fit the name "Holy Crow" last week. I wanted a dark drink so I tried using grape juice as the main ingredient. Also, as Carol pointed out, grape juice fits with the "holy" part of the name as well. Unfortunately, grape juice does not make a good mixer. It is very strong and tends to overpower everything you add to it. I tired mixing it with cranberry juice, Myer's dark rum and coconut rum. The result tasted like grape juice that had gone bad. I was able to drink it by adding enough Amaretto so that all I could taste was the Amaretto. I then tried less grape juice mixed with cranberry juice, Myer's and vanilla liqueur. Not only was this drink bad, it was so bad that - for the first time in my life - I poured a drink containing perfectly good Myer's down the sink. I guess I'll go back to the drawing board.

I'm feeling old because my youngest child turned fourteen last week and my oldest attended his prom. Time really does slip past you if you aren't careful. If you have a screaming toddler running through your house and destroying everything in reach, cherish these moments too because one day soon that toddler will be walking out the door in a tuxedo or pretty dress while you can only hope that they stay safe. I've heard that tequila can help you through these melancholy moments, however.

Now that the college basketball season is over, the second worst time (behind summer) in the sports year is in full swing. The good news is that the NBA playoffs are starting soon and I'll watch a few golf tournaments over the next few months. The bad news is college football, the NFL and college basketball are gone for a while. I shouldn't complain, however. The Tiki family has a bracket challenge each year for the NCAA basketball tournament. Each of us fills out a bracket and whoever picks the most games wins bragging rights until the next year. This year, not only did I lose to my son who watches more college basketball than Dick Vitale, not only did I lose to the Tiki Gal who watches quite a bit of college basketball herself, I also lost to my daughter who didn't watch a single college basketball game on purpose all season long. This is why I don't gamble. I'd be homeless in a matter of weeks.

Have you ever thought about what the fishing experience is like for the fish? You are swimming along, looking for something good to eat, when you are suddenly jerked out of the world you know and into a smelly, dirty universe where weird looking creatures make strange noises at you as you twist on the end of a line. If you are lucky, they pull the hook out of your mouth and set you free. If not, they drop you on the ground and hit you with a stick. The Tiki Gal knows this feeling well and it is all my fault. There aren't enough jewels in all the world to make up for her fish out of water experiences. I'll just keep mixing boat drinks for her and hope that is enough.

As I mentioned above, the Buffett concert is this weekend. I'll be working on packing the portable Tiki Bar this evening (I made a list and printed it out so I wouldn't forget anything.) I guess I'll also take some clothes but there won't be a list for those. You have to have priorities, I always say. I'll also be taking a notebook and a camera so I can keep track of all of the interesting things we do and see so that they can be reported here. Until then, just remember that it's no use trying to reason with hurricane season.

Spanked With a Noodle

As I’ve mentioned previously, we’ve had some interesting experiences in Cozumel. For instance, Carol didn’t think she liked margaritas until our first cruise. 

After visiting Playa Maya for lunch as described in the Banana Boat Blunder entry, we hopped back on our snorkeling excursion boat for the run back into town. The snorkeling guides broke out the refreshments including a five gallon jug of margaritas. The other drink choices weren’t quite as appealing – or alcoholic – so Carol decided she’d try a margarita. Then she thought she’d try another. And another. And just like Sam who did like green eggs and ham, Carol did like margaritas.

The snorkeling guides turned out to be great party hosts as well. They cranked up some Caribbean party music and one of them twisted up a towel into a hat that, when worn, looked exactly like Princess Leia’s hair in Star Wars. Two of the guides then came out with a shot glass, a bottle of apple soda, a bottle of tequila and a short swimming noodle – you know, those flotation noodles kids play with in the swimming pool. The guide would fill the shot glass halfway with tequila, top it off with the apple soda, put his hand over the top and slam it down on the rail to mix it up. Once you had downed the shot, he would – this only works on a boat in the Caribbean – if you were a guy, fondle your boobs, tell you to bend over, and then give you a whack on the rear with the noodle. For the girls, he faked the fondling of the boobs but everything else was the same.  This little game started with the girl immediately next to me. She drank the shot, got her whack and the guide moved on to me. Using the exact same shot glass, I then had my turn. Then the Tiki Gal, Dale and Carol. Then everyone else on the boat who wanted to participate. And then he made a second round (and a third and fourth for our little group.) All using the same shot glass. Does this happen anywhere except in that situation? Can you imagine going to a football game and sharing a soda with everyone on your row? Not to mention tweaking the boobs of the guy next to you after each drink and then whacking him on the rear with a noodle. At the time, however, it was mucho fun.

Sometime between her second margarita and the apple soda shooters, Carol started telling people on the boat that we were going shopping for diamonds. Actually, this became Carol’s conversation starter. “Hey, we’re going to shop for diamonds.” So, back at the pier, we took a cab to the shopping area. We spent some time in our favorite shop in Cozumel, Los Cinco Soles, and then went to the jewelry stores. We spent quite a bit of time looking at jewelry and eventually settled on a few things. The Tiki Gal and I paid for our purchase but Dale and Carol were having some trouble with theirs. Unfortunately, it was getting to be late in the day and the cruise ship we had arrived on would be leaving in about thirty minutes. The Tiki Gal started to get worried. Very worried, indeed.

A little explanation is required here to understand the Tiki Gal’s feelings. On our previous cruises, we’d been told many times that when the departure time came, the ship would leave the port whether you were on it or not. We had, in fact, almost seen this happen in Cozumel a few years before. We were back on the ship early that day and as the departure time neared, we kept hearing an announcement over the ship’s intercom system asking for a couple of passengers to check in if they were on board. We went out on our balcony to watch the departure, and since we were on the pier side, we had a good view of what happened next. The ship staff began loading up the walkways and removing the tie-lines. Just as the boat began to move, we saw a man and woman at the far end of the pier, arms loaded with bags, running toward the ship. These were obviously the people who were being asked to check in on the announcements. Everyone who was watching from the ship started cheering them on as they ran. As the ship started to move, the man threw down his bags and really started sprinting leaving the woman far behind – what a noble guy. Luckily for them, the ship’s staff saw them running and the captain held his position so that they could jump on (literally, they had to jump across a small gap between the ship and the pier.) They were infamous among the passengers for the rest of the trip due to their mad dash.

Because of this, and due to the fact that if you miss the ship you are responsible for travel arrangements to the next port, the Tiki Gal was worried about missing the ship. The jewelry shop was at least a ten minute cab ride from the pier so we went and caught a cab while Dale and Carol were finishing up. Sitting in the back of the cab with the Tiki Gal while waiting on Dale and Carol, I seriously thought she was going to hyperventilate. Her breathing was shallow and fast and she was very pale. As the minutes ticked away, her agitation increased. Finally, Dale and Carol finished and off we went. The cab driver was awesome. He must have broken every traffic law on our way to the pier: speeding, running stop signs and red lights, failure to yield, hit-and-run of a pedestrian (just kidding - nothing can be proved anyway.)

When we got to the pier, we only had a few minutes at most to make it to the ship so we started running. The pier is very long so we did a lot of running and the people along the pier had many chances to make snide comments. One guy told the Tiki Gal and Carol they could stay with him if they didn’t make the ship. The longer we ran, the more I decided that jogging is a bad idea in flip-flops, first of all, but even a worse idea in flip-flops after drinking large quantities of margaritas and apple shooters. As we neared the ship, we could hear our fellow passengers cheering us on. We made it just in time. We were the last passengers on the ship and they pulled the gangway up right behind us. The Tiki Gal had a small nervous breakdown but I think that was a small price to pay to learn that Carol does enjoy margaritas.

Banana Boat Blunder

We've had a good time in Cozumel both times we've been there with Dale and Carol but we've also had a few issues. The first time in Cozumel, we took a snorkeling excursion. After snorkeling, the boat took us to Playa Maya for lunch and beach time. We noticed that there were several water activities so we decided to ride a banana boat after lunch. We had met a heavyset, older couple who decided they would ride the banana boat as well. If you haven't seen one, a banana boat looks like an inflatable, yellow pontoon. The banana boat is pulled behind a speed boat and will hold up to eight or ten people. We put on our life jackets and got on the banana boat which was near the beach. A preteen brother and sister were in front, Carol, Dale, and the Tiki Gal followed. I was behind the Tiki Gal and the older couple were behind me. 

The boat driver told us that when we turned, we should all lean into the turn. Otherwise, we should just sit and enjoy the ride. The boat took off and began pulling the banana boat. We hadn't gone fifty feet when the boat began to turn and we all leaned. Unfortunately for us, we were much too enthusiastic about the leaning and the banana boat flipped right over sending us into the water. The older lady behind us was a bit surprised by this turn of events so she decided she would use my head to stand on until help could arrive. We were all wearing life-jackets so the lady was in no danger but this didn’t seem to matter to her. She was intent on getting out of the water and I, apparently, was going to help her. Luckily, I was a trained lifeguard as a teenager so I knew just what to do in this situation. I immediately inhaled all the sea water I could hold and began thrashing about. Since these actions didn’t help my situation, I placed my hands on some part of the lady’s body (I try not to think about what part it might have been) and shoved her off of my back. I immediately popped to the surface thanks to my trusty life jacket and exchanged my mouth full of water for sweet, sweet air.

Once we had all calmed down and the boat driver had pulled the banana boat back into position, we had to get back on. We found that it is much easier to get on a floating inflatable object when it is sitting on the beach than when it is bobbing along in ten feet of water. The kids got on easily and Carol and Dale soon followed. That left the Tiki Gal and me to try and help the large, older couple back onto the boat. After at least ten minutes of pushing and further near-drownings, we finally put the lady back on the boat. Her husband, the Tiki Gal and I were all exhausted at this point so the old guy decided he would just skip the boat ride and swim back to shore. The Tiki Gal and I were relieved that we weren’t going to have to help him up as well, to say the least. We managed to pull ourselves up with our quivering, jelly arms and the boat driver, trying with all his might not to smile, took off again. We had learned the leaning lesson so the rest of the ride was uneventful.

The moral to this story is – Don’t waste time in Cozumel riding banana boats. Drink Margaritas instead.

To Hell and Back

Continuing with the Charlie Brown on a Cruise series, both of the cruises we've taken with Dale and Carol have stopped in Grand Cayman. Grand Cayman doesn't have a pier big enough for a cruise ship so you are "tendered" to the island on boats. On our first cruise, we arrived in Grand Cayman under leaden, gray skies. The captain warned us that there would likely be rain and that some of the excursions had been canceled but we got on a tender and went to the island anyway. We had planned to do a little shopping and then find a beach for the afternoon. Unfortunately, the rain had other ideas for us. As we tried to think of an activity where we wouldn't get soaked, Dale mentioned that his aunt and uncle had really enjoyed the turtle farm the last time they were there. Since we couldn't go to the beach in the rain, we decided to give it a try. 

We caught a bus that took us directly to the turtle farm. It turned out that the turtle farm was a bunch of tanks, out in the rain, containing hundreds and hundreds of sea turtles. Grand Cayman is doing a wonderful thing by breeding and releasing these endangered turtles, but as a tourist attraction the turtle farm leaves a little to be desired. Imagine walking along, in the rain, and looking at tank after tank of various sizes of sea turtles swimming around on top of each other. It was just that exciting.

After all the thrills of the turtle farm, we were ready to go back to the ship. We got on a bus that we assumed would take us back to the pier. We did eventually get there but we went through Hell and back on the way. The first thing we noticed when we sat down was that we were the only touristy looking people on the bus and the second thing we noticed was the monitor showing a hip-hop video. The bus was actually a mass transit bus so it made stops all over the island for the locals. We were on the bus for almost two hours, watching hip-hop videos and stopping at random businesses, houses, and spots on the road as people got on and off. We rode through a small town on Grand Cayman named Hell. Obviously, this is a tourist destination because you can send postcards saying "I've been to Hell" and have them postmarked at the Hell post office. We also saw many other parts of Grand Cayman on the bus tour that we wouldn't have seen otherwise. We also got a glimpse of the lives of the locals but I could have done without the hip-hop videos. As you can imagine, Dale is still getting a hard time about the turtle farm and the trip to Hell and back. On the bright side, however, Dale is no longer responsible for our travel itinerary and I know that makes him happy.

Once we got back to the pier, it had really started raining hard. We got on a tender and started back to the ship. The tender was going directly into the wind, rain and waves. Poor Carol was sitting on the outside of the bench seat we were on and, although the boat had an awning, it was not stopping a single drop of the rain or sea spray from hitting her. The temperature had also dropped so not only was Carol getting wet, she was freezing as well. By the time we got back to the ship, Carol couldn't possibly have been any wetter even if she had jumped over the side and directly in the ocean. I would like to apologize publicly to Carol for bringing this tropical depression down on her with my Charlie Brown curse. I think we are now even for the antique champagne incident.