Monday, March 8, 2010

The time i cruised with my dad. Part II

Sunday, May 24th, 2009 - Embarkation Day

Day Two.

Dad successfully got me out of bed at 7:00am Puerto Rico time this morning. Only one hour after the first attempt. After consistently cursing and “WTFing” TSA for pushing out nearly all of my deodorant, emptying the solution out of my contact lens case and unstringing my dental floss, I was nearly ready for the day.

Breakfast was a limited menu both in the hotel and in the airport cafeteria. (Hotel was in the airport.) Not to worry though, I knew we would be eating well in Old San Juan. Pops and I grabbed a cab to the Fort Castillo San Cristobal, because history rocks. It dates back to the early 17th century as an aid in defending San Juan from landward attacks and is the largest Spanish fortification in the New World. At least, that's what the post card says.

It's pretty dope. Pictures included.


We didn't know it at the time, but that was our ship. (Above)

View from the fort.

Before we made our ascent up the hill, Dad needed a smoke, because that's what you do when you're a smoker. You prepare for a strenuous trek by smoking and you also repair your lungs after a strenuous trek by smoking. I didn't look down at the bench I was plopping my fatass onto. I slid for a quick second and guess what...there was poop all over my white capris. Awesome. Dad, being the doll that he is, used his handkerchief (A handkerchief; He's fabulously Old School like that.) to remove as much of the poop as he could. Yes, he threw the handkerchief away. Then, inside the fort, i tried to scrub off as much as i could inside the bathroom, which only smeared it and made it worse. All I could do was laugh inside my head and berate myself for such stupidity. What else could I do? “White pants, dumbass. Look before you sit.” I put my pants back on and toured the fort with poopy pants. It was only 8am.

Poopy Pants.

Post-trek-smoke.

Following our lovely tour, Dad and I walked down the narrow streets that were lined with a Crayola assortment of buildings and shops. Mostly, we poked our heads in as we passed by, that is until we looked up at a shop that was called “White Clothes.” Convenient. “Oh, look. A pair of white capris.” I tried them on and left them on. I showed the cashier my “marred” apparel and as he snickered, he gave me a sack to put them in.

Much better.

Crayola assortment of shops.

We continued to walk through the narrow streets, this time stopping in more shops. Mostly to see the paintings, trinkets, jewelry, hats etc. Dad was looking for a straw hat in particular. Every time we thought we'd found a place with an assortment of straw hats, they were women's. I couldn't talk him into getting one of them. While we were in a large boutique, I found a gift that had Megan's name all over it; One gift down. Dad did find a Panama Jack hat right before it began to rain. First the sprinkling was light and pleasant. We continued down the street. The rain became heavy and not so pleasant. Suddenly it seemed like a good idea to find something to eat. Finding an open cafe/restaurant turned into a harder task than it needed to be. When we did find a place to have lunch while soaked, I had a wonderful surprise. My gumbo came with fried plantains. It was like finding an Andes mint under your hotel pillow. It made my rain-soaked clothes worth it.

Plantains + Gumbo + Sangria = A Happy Traveler

By 2pm our taxi had dropped us off at the pier. If you've been on a cruise before, you understand that wonderful feeling of anticipation. Hundreds of people in one line that spread, roughly, forty feet across and appeared to be a half a mile long. As we inched forward, it became visible that there were three lines. And that we were in the wrong one. “Oh, this is the line for after you have checked your luggage.” Great. Dad and I nonchalantly slipped into the line next to us. Smooth, we are. Next were the fourteen checkpoints with your passport just in case someone slipped passed security without one. It was here where the constant eyes on me and compliments about my body art began. As if the stares in the hotel weren't enough. I should have began to keep track as to how many times I heard how “beautiful” and “awesome” my tattoos are. I bet i'd be able to have free drinks all week long if I got a dollar for each comment. I think I'll start charging.


Clusterfuck Pier

Happy Traveler #1

We were on the ship and in our stateroom by 4pm. A queen sized bed. “We gotta fix this.” The bathroom resembles that of a camper. The balcony, though. Very nice. We will both be spending a lot of time out here.

After a quick emergency drill, we found our dining room and were placed at our assigned seats. First, we meet Ann and Mike, a very fun and oddly-paired couple from New Jersey. Ann's accent is killer. I saw her and Mike a few more times throughout the rest of the evening. I have a feeling we'll bounce around with them a few times. At least, I hope so.

At dinner, we began to feel like Royalty. Napkins were placed in our laps. We could order as many entrees or appetizers on the menu as we wanted. When we get back to our room, our bed was fixed and we noticed a menu to have breakfast delivered in the morning. As dad was having a smoke on the balcony, we realized that San Juan was slowly moving to the left. I hurried him up so we could view our departure from the top deck.

I had been aloof and somber since I had woken up. I hadn't felt a lot of excitement until our ship began its voyage. Immediately I was in a mental state of disbelief. "This is so effing cool. Damn." The twelfth deck was a happenin' place. A Jamaican band was playing familiar Rastafarian tunes, mostly by Bob Marley. A few by Shaggy. People were drunk and dancing merrily. Some people were sober and dancing merrily. The Caribbean air had intoxicated them.

Dad and I stood by the railing, watching the water splash some hundred feet below. When looking out at sea, you could tell where the horizon was, but it was a black abyss after the Mount Fiji-sized, dark cloud had passed. Eery, amazing and phenomenal. Nearly four thousand people at the mercy of the sea. After dad left down to the casino, I walked to the other end of the ship. Against the railing I could see the tiny lights of Puerto Rico slowly blinking out. I don't know how long I stood there.

1 comment:

LARS cacao PELAO IV said...

"clusterfuck pier"....hahahah!
the gintonic i swill as i read these bits actually makes me feel more at sea...yeee!
byers