"There's a jello mold on the Lido deck..." pt. 3
Sorry for the delay on the third and, what I hope to be, final installment into our cruise. I lost my creative flare and was two seconds away from just posting the remaining pictures with some lame captions. However, I refuse to leave my doting public hanging and I know how much you all enjoy a glimpse into my fabulous life. *snicker*
side note: I have decided that I'm totally going to play up my Bahama cruise like I'm some kind of rich, high class society. For example, when someone makes a comment such as, "Wow it's hot outside." I'm going to dive right in with, said in a Martha Stewart-esque voice, "When I was in the Bahamas, the sun practically burned the clothes off of us." Or if someone says something like, "I want to go out on a boat on the lake." I'll chime in with, "Oh I couldn't possibly enjoy anything smaller than a luxury liner and a lake doesn't nearly compare to that of the open seas."
Don't believe me? Just try me. I'm cultured now, haha.
Key West: It's hard to remember. We weren't there very long. We arrived about 7am. By the time Paul and I hauled our asses out of bed, it was around 9am. I was desperately searching for the beach. All I wanted was to get in the ocean and enjoy water. It was beautiful. I was burnt by this point, so we needed to find somewhere to buy tanning lotion and aloe vera. We found refuge in a CVS. The gay man in me had to buy hair gel too. Afterwards, we wandered the coastline searching for a place to swim, but it was not to be. Wherever we were was just a docking station for a bunch of boats. We did eat at a cute little, mostly outdoor, restaurant named, "Pepe's". Apparently it had a big local heritage or something. My omelette was good. We had to be back to the ship by 2:30pm. We didn't take the camera with us. Sorry. Move it along. Nothing to see here folks.
Fine. Here's a photo to hold you over.
Nassau, Bahamas: It looked just like the post cards. There were people FREAKIN' everywhere. You couldn't go more than three feet without someone trying to offer you a ride to a beach or some other tourist-y attraction. You also couldn't go more than three feet without someone asking for or offering, "coke" or "blow". I thought they were same thing, but apparently not. My central Pennsylvania-ness rears it's ugly head. Needless to say, I declined.
I bought some lame souvenirs for people, that we took back to the ship before heading for Paradise Island. We took the traditional photos of posing in front of the ship...
*If I turn to the side and place my hands on my hips, I'll look skinny.*
*Paul wanted an action shot, so I faked it. Pretty damn good, eh? I'm also good at faking a lot of other things that Paul wants. haha j/k - Sorry, you expected me to just let that joke lie there?*
OOH! I LIED! I JUST FOUND A PICTURE OF OUR SHIP DOCKED IN KEY WEST. Behold a fabulous picture... and possibly the only picture from Key West:
*Narrator from the 1960s Batman* "Meanwhile, back at stately Wayne Manor... er... the Bahamas..."
A man asked us if we wanted to go to Atlantis. We said we wanted to go to Paradise Island. He told us to wait a moment while he wrangled up other people to ride with us. I'm not kidding. He just charged into a crowd and started asking. Eventually they got enough people and a short Bahamian women, herded us like cattle to a van... where she kicked out the driver and took over.... I kid you not... and thus began our drive to Paradise Island.
Some things you might not know about drivers in Nassau: the international sign for, "Hello. I would like to pull out at the earliest convenience." is honking the horn and stomping on the gas. Seriously. They drive like maniacs. There is a horn blast every .00005 second. It's worse than New York. The only thing you can hear above the horns is the brakes on everyone's vehicles. BUMPERtoBUMPER. And the woman driving our cab was... a polite term would be... aggressive.
HILARIOUS SIDE STORY: The woman driving, would open her door anytime we would come to a stop. If we were stopped at a stop sign, or stuck in traffic, or at a red light, she would open the door... lean out... and look at the ground. Then she'd shut the door and drive again. This happened so many times, I couldn't count. The following conversation took place between Paul and I:
Me - Why does she keep doing that?
Paul - Probably checking to make sure she didn't run over anyone.
OH! And then she randomly pulled over to a bus stop, to pick up a tollbooth worker: a woman was standing at the bus stop, waiting for a ride to the tollbooth where she worked when our cab driver pulled over, jumped out, opened the back door, made another seat magically appear... don't ask me how... we were packed in there... I blinked and missed it... but voila! une autre seat.
Paul took this photo from inside the taxi van on the way to Paradise Island. Yes, that's a broken window that had been fixed with tape and plexiglass. Class. Pure class.
O.K. I'm tiring of this, so I'm going to stop again for now. Don't worry. I'm almost done. Part 4 will be the last, I promise. And just to keep you excited for next time...
I FINALLY FIND THE BEACH!!!
side note: I have decided that I'm totally going to play up my Bahama cruise like I'm some kind of rich, high class society. For example, when someone makes a comment such as, "Wow it's hot outside." I'm going to dive right in with, said in a Martha Stewart-esque voice, "When I was in the Bahamas, the sun practically burned the clothes off of us." Or if someone says something like, "I want to go out on a boat on the lake." I'll chime in with, "Oh I couldn't possibly enjoy anything smaller than a luxury liner and a lake doesn't nearly compare to that of the open seas."
Don't believe me? Just try me. I'm cultured now, haha.
Key West: It's hard to remember. We weren't there very long. We arrived about 7am. By the time Paul and I hauled our asses out of bed, it was around 9am. I was desperately searching for the beach. All I wanted was to get in the ocean and enjoy water. It was beautiful. I was burnt by this point, so we needed to find somewhere to buy tanning lotion and aloe vera. We found refuge in a CVS. The gay man in me had to buy hair gel too. Afterwards, we wandered the coastline searching for a place to swim, but it was not to be. Wherever we were was just a docking station for a bunch of boats. We did eat at a cute little, mostly outdoor, restaurant named, "Pepe's". Apparently it had a big local heritage or something. My omelette was good. We had to be back to the ship by 2:30pm. We didn't take the camera with us. Sorry. Move it along. Nothing to see here folks.
Fine. Here's a photo to hold you over.
Nassau, Bahamas: It looked just like the post cards. There were people FREAKIN' everywhere. You couldn't go more than three feet without someone trying to offer you a ride to a beach or some other tourist-y attraction. You also couldn't go more than three feet without someone asking for or offering, "coke" or "blow". I thought they were same thing, but apparently not. My central Pennsylvania-ness rears it's ugly head. Needless to say, I declined.
I bought some lame souvenirs for people, that we took back to the ship before heading for Paradise Island. We took the traditional photos of posing in front of the ship...
*If I turn to the side and place my hands on my hips, I'll look skinny.*
*Paul wanted an action shot, so I faked it. Pretty damn good, eh? I'm also good at faking a lot of other things that Paul wants. haha j/k - Sorry, you expected me to just let that joke lie there?*
OOH! I LIED! I JUST FOUND A PICTURE OF OUR SHIP DOCKED IN KEY WEST. Behold a fabulous picture... and possibly the only picture from Key West:
*Narrator from the 1960s Batman* "Meanwhile, back at stately Wayne Manor... er... the Bahamas..."
A man asked us if we wanted to go to Atlantis. We said we wanted to go to Paradise Island. He told us to wait a moment while he wrangled up other people to ride with us. I'm not kidding. He just charged into a crowd and started asking. Eventually they got enough people and a short Bahamian women, herded us like cattle to a van... where she kicked out the driver and took over.... I kid you not... and thus began our drive to Paradise Island.
Some things you might not know about drivers in Nassau: the international sign for, "Hello. I would like to pull out at the earliest convenience." is honking the horn and stomping on the gas. Seriously. They drive like maniacs. There is a horn blast every .00005 second. It's worse than New York. The only thing you can hear above the horns is the brakes on everyone's vehicles. BUMPERtoBUMPER. And the woman driving our cab was... a polite term would be... aggressive.
HILARIOUS SIDE STORY: The woman driving, would open her door anytime we would come to a stop. If we were stopped at a stop sign, or stuck in traffic, or at a red light, she would open the door... lean out... and look at the ground. Then she'd shut the door and drive again. This happened so many times, I couldn't count. The following conversation took place between Paul and I:
Me - Why does she keep doing that?
Paul - Probably checking to make sure she didn't run over anyone.
OH! And then she randomly pulled over to a bus stop, to pick up a tollbooth worker: a woman was standing at the bus stop, waiting for a ride to the tollbooth where she worked when our cab driver pulled over, jumped out, opened the back door, made another seat magically appear... don't ask me how... we were packed in there... I blinked and missed it... but voila! une autre seat.
Paul took this photo from inside the taxi van on the way to Paradise Island. Yes, that's a broken window that had been fixed with tape and plexiglass. Class. Pure class.
O.K. I'm tiring of this, so I'm going to stop again for now. Don't worry. I'm almost done. Part 4 will be the last, I promise. And just to keep you excited for next time...
I FINALLY FIND THE BEACH!!!