If you said “No”, then you are lying and we both know it.
Yes people, I have returned after a one-week trip to the land of perfection otherwise known as Jamaica.
It was a much needed rest. I did some soul searching while I was there, and although it was a tough decision, I think I’ve come to the conclusion that I slightly prefer sitting on my ass by the beach doing nothing, over coming in here to work every fucking day. As I said, it was a tough call.
Anyway, here’s a quick rundown of my week:
Having to get my ass up at 2 A.M. so we can catch a 5:30 A.M. flight out of J.F.K. was just about the most torturous thing I’ve ever done (if you exclude the time I got my wee-wee caught in the escalator at Macy’s…. long story).
But, the good thing about leaving super-early is that we were beachside in Jamaica by about 11 A.M. local time, and had the whole day to hurry up and do nothing.
After recovering from my jet-lag, I REALLY was able to settle comfortably into my routine of doing absolutely nothing. I spent my morning at the pool, only getting up every 20 minutes or so to order a girl drink from the pool bar, before returning to my comatose state in my lounge chair. Then I ate lunch, and spent the afternoon at the beach, playing with Mini-Me while floating in the water and worrying that a Jamaican Barracuda was going to swim up my bathing suit and munch on my hey-nanny-nanny.
Since I had been there a few days now, I figured it was high time to see if I could have myself a “high” time. So, I went out in search of someone willing to sell me some Mary Jane.
Turns out, it wasn’t too much of a search. That fucking place felt more like Amsterdam than Jamaica, because just about every worker at the resort had weed to sell. Hell, half of them were literally smoking as they were working!
Anyway, I bought some herbs for a price that was about 1/10th of what I would have paid here in the States. I would have loved to have bought some more and taken it home, but I spoke to about a dozen people on the return flight with me and I couldn’t find ONE damn person who was willing to cram my stash up their ass for me to get it thru security. Spoil-sports.
Friday was pretty much uneventful, except for the fact that I almost beat the snot out some prick from Denver who thought he could move my shit off my beach chair so he could move it and sit closer to his ugly wife. The nerve of some people!
Also, I met 2 Canadian female bodybuilders who seemed to enjoy the Ganja as much as I did. I’m fairly certain that I could have had a semi-homosexual 3-way with them. They certainly seemed willing, anyway.
Note to self: Bringing your wife and child with you on vacation almost completely RUINS any chances of you getting laid by muscular-but-still-kinda-hot Canucks.
Spent the day in Dunns Rivers Falls, where we rock-climbed up a waterfall. It was amazing, but it would have been even MORE amazing had someone told me before hand that we were actually going to be IN THE FUCKING WATER CLIMBING UP THE FACE OF A FUCKING WATERFALL! Idiot-Me thought we were just going to walk up a path next to it. Oh well, live and learn. It was honestly an amazing, once-in-a-lifetime experience.
More of the same pool/beach/drinking/smoking that had seemed to be such a big hit for most of the week. It was our last full day there, so I wanted to go out with a bang. I finished the night winning a boatload of cash at the slots, so I went to bed quite happy.
Seriously, it was BEDLAM! As flight after flight got delayed, then cancelled, people started scrambling to get back to the States on any flight they could.
A few hours into the mess, they called in the Jamaican army to operate the traffic towers. I swear, it was like The Godfather part 2 when Michael Corleone was trying to leave Cuba during the revolution. Complete Chaos!
Anyway, I was finally able to get us a flight out, hours after our original departure time. We strolled back into NY at an ungodly 3:30 A.M! Not exactly the end to my vacation that I would have liked, but I guess in the end it all worked out.
So, that’s it. Those are the highlights, anyway. There’s more I could tell you, but I have a small aversion to being arrested or deported.
And if you happen to know any drunk, stoned and tanned female bodybuilders who like to say “ABOOT”, do me a favor and give ‘em my number.