Upon reflection there were a few things that I thought were really strange about that Mexican Mayan tour (other than the fact that our guide was bat-caca loco, and obviously HATED tourists, yet still chose this as his profession). Number one: Our tour guide thought that the ancient Mayans were the most PERFECT beings to have every walked the planet (better than even William Wallace and Blackadder), despite the fact that they would FUCK UP BABIES' SKULLS by gradually flattening them with two heavy rocks until they eventually had the shapes of scary-looking coneheads ("This did not hurt the babies. Pay attention! This act was used when the child was to be a priest, or a wise man. This act of [baby smashing... my words, not his] made them smarter!".... Ummmm, there was absolutely NO fucking proof of this last claim except the fact that there were a ton of oblong-shaped skulls lying around Mayan burial grounds... For all we know this act of noggin-squashing turned them into drooling idiots who the ancient Mayans worshipped because they thought that only mongoloids could commune with the flying snake gods whose asses they kisses way back when).
The second thing that I thought was strange was that there was absolutely no talk about December 21, 2012: Judgement Day. See, the Mayan calendar (the most sophisticated date keeping system of the ancient world) claimed that the world would end on 12/21/12 by way of the Mu returning or a Jupiter-shaped object appearing around Tokyo, Japan or something. Not one word. Either this tour guide didn't do his homework on the really important shit and just cared enough about his job to learn the trivial stuff about just how dumb Europeans and Americans were, or he was just stupid or lazy, and simply making most of this crap up as he went along.
THE PARTY BOAT SETS SAIL
After the Cozumel excursion I got back to the ship (which didn't leave without us... Seriously, wasn't too scared about that actually happening, but it did give me an excuse to berate those goddamn Koreans with horrible profanity the whole trip back), shaved, showered, and then napped for another 2 hours. Then it was dinner time (in which our whole table was back together that night). I must reimpress upon you just how incredible this food was: It was in-fucking-CREDITASTIC. I have never added so much weight so fast as I did that week. There was so much of it, and it was all so damn good. I had two more perfect steaks that night, and two desserts. No regrets. Well, one sort of regret. The entire wait staff got me (and about half of the diners) out of my seat to dance around the place like the uncoordinated fool that I am. But I figured that physical activity burned off one of the steaks I snarfed down that night. So there's that.
After eating, our entire table went into the main theater for the Talent(less) Show which was followed by the Costume Contest. The Talent Show was basically regular people just singing and dancing. There were about a dozen competitors and only one real singer of any talent, and one real dancer (who you actually didn't want to trip and land flat on her face). That 16 year-old girl who sang Carrie Underwood's song about beating the shit out of her boyfriend's car was the obvious choice for first place that night, but the (unfunny) cruise director refused to really acknowledge any clear winner. I think all the contestants got a shitty little plastic replica of the ship as an award despite how much applause or how many boos they got from the audience. There were a lot of boos. And one thrown beer bottle. I blamed the Wolfman for that.
There were a lot MORE boos though for the next portion of the night's entertainment: The Costume Contest... Made up of costumes that the attention-whoring contestants created using only materials available to them on the ship or in the ports of call — which meant they were all TERRIBLE. One guy wrapped himself up in toilet paper in what I HOPE was an attempt to be a mummy, one guy went up in a T-shirt with a demon on the front of it (that was his only costume), and another actually had a werewolf mask on, but just jeans and a sweat shirt on underneath it. Yes, it was good to see somebody who actually tried, but it raised an interesting question: Why the FUCK did he/she bring a large rubber werewolf mask aboard a 5 day cruise?
After the two what-the-fuck-were-they-thinking contests were over, the party began on the outside pool deck. Lohan, Crystal Right and Gator Babe and I were the only ones who decided to not call it a night (Jesus, seriously, it was only like 10:30 or so), and we followed a mass of people up and out onto the deck. They had a large stage/dance floor set up in the center of the open area, and the live calypso band that was playing was really jamming; well, they were really jamming after Crystal Right and Gator Babe forced 5 shots and 4 Buds into me. By then I was really feeling the motion of the ocean and led the charge to the stage. I did the fucking Macarena, the Chicken, some Stomp/Jump song, the Electric Slide, and countless (COUNTLESS!) others.
Things kept rocking on the deck for a few hours until they culminated in a giant conga line which snaked around the entire top floor of the ship and then ended with the red team and blue team (depending on if your dining table was an odd or even number) cheering the loudest for their alliance. We (the red team) kicked those blue bastards' ASSES.
After that though the band packed up and my crew and I headed on down to the disco. My gals had just taught me how to smoke and I had to show off my mad, rugged, tarry skills!
DANCE HALL DAZE
The disco was actually a helluva lot more fun than I thought it was going to be. I was expecting cheezy 70s music, only a few people on the dance floor, and no atmosphere; instead I got a packed house, lots of 90s and 00s hip hop and techno (which if I'm in the right frame of mind for I can enjoy), and, well, a 2000's take on a 70's environment, but all in all not a bad place to have fun. By this point we were all buying each other drinks and passing around cigarettes (I was smoking like fucking Vesuvius!) and covering each other's backs when it came to ugly or skeezy dance partners. For instance, I had this troll in some polka dot dress drag me out onto the floor who then tried to snuggle her over-makeupped face into my manly chest, but Crystal Right twirled me away from her and saved me from having to pretend to pass out again to get out of that girl's gorilla arms. Then, a bit later, Gator Babe had some fat and, well FAT frat boy start buying drinks for her. We all laughed. Then he came over and we made room for him (mostly so he'd keep the booze coming for Gator Babe who was sharing them with us). Then he brought his wing-man in who we all swore was his fucking father (this guy looked just like Overweight Fratty, and was obviously 20 - 30 years his fat senior)! We were dying laughing. Well, "we" meaning everybody but Gator Babe who was starting to get a little tired of Overweight Fratty's come ons. Then the guy made a terrible mistake: He dragged Gator Babe up on the dance floor... He kicked our pact into high gear. Her eyes silently pleaded for either deliverance from tubbiness or an airstrike. That's when Lohan and Crystal Right stood me up, stabilized me, and shoved me into action.
Gator Babe thanked me by finishing off the dance that Overweight Fatty had started on her, that I had continued on him. After about another 2 hours of constant dancing though I needed a break. I sat down at our bar stools that were facing the dance floor and downed whatever drinks the girls had left. That's when 45 Year-Old Lesbian approached me. 45 Year-Old looked like she was going to start hitting on me, but as her name suggests she really only wanted info on the girls I was with. Apparently she did the math and realized that I was either a mega-player or at least two of my feminine companions were available. At THIS point in the night I was fairly hammered and thought that this would turn into an awkward and absolutely hysterical sitcom misunderstanding if I told 45 Year-Old that ALL the girls were available, and ALL of them liked to experiment. 45 Year-Old brightened right up and ran to the circle o'babes already dancing and threw herself (desperately) into the mix.
Lohan and Crystal Right each got some repulsed looks on their faces when 45 Year-Old whispered something (kinky, I'm sure) into their ears, and they both fled back to their seats next to me. Then all three of us laughed and laughed as Gator Babe kept swinging herself around the stage without a care as to who her new partner was... At least until 45 Year-Old started grabbing her body. Gator Babe stopped dead on the spot with a look of absolute "I can't believe somebody just grabbed me there" look of panic on her face. She turned to 45 Year-Old, had a few words that we couldn't hear over the thumping bass, and then slowly returned to us still looking like a deer in the headlights of a cement truck.
Our group continued drinking, puffing, taking tons of pictures (unfortunately the great inner-sweater shot that one of the girls took of herself with my camera didn't come out), and dancing for another half hour (with 45 Year-Old still hanging around), when the two Canadian girls decided to call it a night (Crystal Right giving me a wink and a "thumbs-up" as she left). I danced a bit more with Gator Babe, but after a few minutes of 45 Year-Old bugging us and trying to cut in (at one point she even tried to untie Gator Babe's shoulder strap) GB stated that she thought it was time to turn in herself. I said I understood, and after she left I went back on the dance floor and tried to do some break dancing which didn't quite work out for me. Then I decided to call it a night. I went down to the Wolfman's and my cabin, got my iPod and book out of my bags (with no fear at all of waking his sorry ass up, what with his horrible noise pollution drowning out every profanity I could throw at him), and then retreated to the empty cafeteria in the back of the ship for one more lonely night in the wide open place. It was 3AM, and it seemed I was in for another long night.
I got myself a pepperoni slice from the pizza guy and had just settled down to my Drew Curtis book again when I saw that two figures has just stumbled in through the entrance (I was behind a pillar, so they couldn't see me, but I had a clear view of both Gator Babe and 45 Year-Old). I was in fucking shock. I couldn't speak at first; I just watched. 45 Year-Old had Gator Babe by the arm and was dragging her towards the pizza guy in the back, but Gator Babe was a little hesitant (did she fear bumping into me again? Especially in THIS situation?). She kept pulling against 45 Year-Old's grip, but not in a "get the fuck away from me" kind of way, more like a "let's just get out of here and into a quieter place" kind of way.
That's about the time that I stood up smiling, thinking that hey, they might not be into me, but at least I'll have a little more company tonight. But as I cheered out, "Hey! Gator Babe! Did you come here for the pizza or the conversa--" but at that she flashed an embarrassed smile and then sat down at a booth on the other end of the room with her back to me. 45 Year-Old walked past me to get a fish pizza (with a smug, homosexual smile on her weather-worn lips), and then joined Gator Babe at her table. GB made no sign whatsoever that even hinted at "SAVE ME!!!" so I just let it go. Then when 45 Year-Old was done with her late night meal they both got up and fled the scene without looking back to respond to my "Well then, I'll see you at dinner tomorrow!"
Nothing makes a guy feel more manly than a chick fleeing from the sound of his voice with an aged lesbian in tow.