Goulash Gone Caribbean

Hey-o, who wants some vacation pictures? I don't have many, but the ones that I have will be shoveled down your throat like gruel at an orphanage. Let's get her going!

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One thing that no one says about life at sea is just how swank it is. For confirmation, just take a look above. In how many other bathrooms can you go #2 while shampooing your hair? Tres chic.

More swanky accommodations. After I saw the room, I began to secretly hope that I'd get abducted by a jungle warlord, if only because I'd probably be staying in a bigger room then.

Any malice towards the joint evaporated that first night when I came in and saw a towel sculpture waiting for me. Man, I loved those things. For all I cared, they could've doused me in Hepatitis and I wouldn't have complained as long as the towel sculptures kept coming.

But really, no one goes on vacation to stay in the room. No sir, you go to do things, and do things we did. Unfortunately, the weather didn't cooperate at first. If you look at the picture above, you'll see a little cylinder coming down from the middle of the clouds. Laura, being the world's foremost nautical meteorologist, took one look and loudly declared, "That's a tornado and I think it's coming right from us." The next time I want to clear out a deck on a boat, I must remember to bring her along.

Look, it's a Mexican beach! The boats and the hasty escape they could deliver tempted me a little more with each bar tab that floated my way.

I've taken lots of disturbing pictures in Mexico. In fact, I didn't think I could possibly find a stranger picture taken in the nation. And then, well, I found this pirate on a bench. Suddenly, we have a new front runner.

The next stop was Roatan, an island off the coast of Honduras. If we could get a work visa for Fat Elvis and set him up there, I could confidently declare that I'd found my personal mecca. It was such a cool place.

Here's a look at the beachfront bar/restaurant/snorkel we rocked for the day. It's called Les Boucaniers. They didn't shy away from taking all my money, but could I really complain when it involved a snorkel tour through the world's second largest reef, led by a short, hairy Belgian? I mean, if it was a tall, hairy Belgian, I'd still plunk that money down and feel pretty good about myself.

The only bad part of Roatan? The locals were after my woman. Eventually, I was forcibly removed after throwing a tank of live lobsters at these guys.

Look, it's a Seaward Young Republicans convention!

We also went to Belize. I only got one picture there, as seen above. There's a good reason for that: Belize City is absolutely terrifying. Now I'm no daisy; not only am I pretty much the only white person willing to step foot in Nuevo Laredo right now, but I've seriously considered running for City Council there.

However, Belize City is another beast entirely. In retrospect, I should've just crapped myself out of fear immediately so I could take lots more picture. Instead, I had to fight it out for a whole morning. (It should be noted the islands around Belize are really great, I just didn't get any pictures of them.)

There's your final picture. The mathematical formula for that can be expressed as 1 Ton of Sand in Swimsuit + Ran Out of Money + Trapped Under Dock in Mexico. The sum, of course, is expressed Pissy Pants. (One ton of sand probably doesn't even come close to the actual weight; it was insane. I was shaking sand from unpleasant places for days afterwards.)

It was only one bad moment weighed against roughly fifty bajillion excellent ones, but it serves as a useful reminder: the next time I hit the beach, I do it in a suit made of latex.

Posted by Cody at July 5, 2005 7:27 PM