01-28-2006, 08:42 PM
I'd like to say that I'm changing bloody bandages on my body because of a bar fight I got into when I was in Grand Cayman. I'd like to say that the scattered gashes and potential scars that travel down from my left shoulder to my fingers, the bruised thigh, and scraped knee were the result of something epic. I wish I could say that I threw down with an inebriated thug on vacation from chugging brewskis by chugging tropical drinks instead, but alas life being what it is, it was my own proclivity toward clumsiness that leaves me still slightly bloodied and heavily bandaged at home days later. At least my tropical drinks were free.
The skeptic in me immediately refused the trip when one of our suppliers at work came to us with a cruise promotion last February. The idea was that the supplier attributed credit toward the trip based on a percentage of premium parts we'd buy over the rest of the year and our shop would pay the remainder of the balance. While it might sound fair to the same sucker that willingly walks in to a time share situation, I knew that in the end not only were they claiming a significantly higher price for the trip, but that their business would probably paying even less than I would had booked the trip myself. When I arrived late to work the next week, I learned that not only had my father accepted the offer on my behalf, but he had also slapped down the initial $500 deposit towards our payment plan. After reconsidering, I decided to go as the business would be picking up the costs and no sane man would turn down a free vacation.
My travelling buddy would be my brother and sometimes fellow board member Weird NJ (aka Brian). Here he is on the deck of our ship purposely standing in front of the "Smoke Free Area" sign smoking a cigarette.
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My trip began on a early morning flight from Newark airport on Saturday morning. I had decided to stay up the night before as I always get nervous that I may oversleep and miss my flight entirely. We arrived at Newark at 5:30 AM with an hour and a half to spare.
Upon proceeding through airport security, I had to inform yet another trained security staffer whose internal red alarms told him that the object in my carryon might possibly be a dangerous weapon that it wasn't a dangerous weapon at all, but a PSP. You can play video games, watch movies, and listen to music on it!
When we arrived at our gate, I left my bags with Weird and got in line at the coffee shop to get us a couple cups of delicious joe. My attention was drawn by the odd mannerisms of a peculiar old man several places ahead of me in line who held his arms up to his chest as a T-Rex might were he alive and well and standing in line for a cup of coffee at Newark airport. He was tilting and turning his head at odd angles to survey the airport around him and occasionaly noticing that the line had moved up ahead of him in the interim. When I finally paid for my empty cups and was directed to the carafes to my left I found the same man still there, but performing his stop and gawk routine directly in front of the coffee.
He seemed to be inspecting the building and looking at everything besides the coffee. The few people that had been between us in line were meekly trying to get by and reach around him in order to fill up their cups as he stood there clutching his empty cup offering no indication that he was going to pour himself some anytime soon. I reached past him with a curt "excuse me" and although he turned his head in my direction didn't seem to understand my purpose. I pointed to the coffee and he finally took a step back. I filled up my cups and headed back to Weird and remarked to him about the odd little lizard man I had met in line. I thought maybe that he had suffered a stroke or some other sort of debilitating disease that had wreaked havoc on his mental faculties.
Weird and I had noticed previously that are seats were not near each other. One disadvantage of having the trip booked for you is that you don't have any control over any of these details. Our seats were seperated by about 5 rows and after unsuccessfully trying to find two seats next to each other with the agent at the gate, we settled for the ones we had.
We boarded the plane and Weird took a seat as I continued past him counting the rows ahead of me to see exactly where I would be sitting. 24... 25... 26.... 27........ Oh no! Who is that in the seat next to me at the window? Why, it's none other than Mr. T-Rex coffee man!!! I inwardly rolled my eyes and cursed the gods for my odd twist of fate.
About a week before the trip, I went shopping for a new travel bag. I found a perfect Swiss Army carry on bag that although a little oversized, could fit my formal clothes as well as all of my gadgets for the trip. I took my seat next to Mr. Rex and tried to see if I could stow my bag under the seat in front of me.
"Doesn't fit! You have to move it," Mr Rex says immediately.
"No problem. I just bought it and wanted to see if it would fit," I explained.
"I could trip over it if we have to leave the plane. It's dangerous."
"Yes, I know. Like I said just trying to see if it would fit."
"It doesn't! Don't make me call the stewardess."
"Let me just grab my things out of it and I'll store it overhead," I said.
"I don't want to trip over it!"
It was at this point that I realized I better not say another word and just ignore him as I pulled my messenger bag out of my carry on and proceeded to fill it with only my books and gadgets I would need for the flight. He kept complaining the entire time as I no longer paid him any attention and went about my business. The lady that had sat down to our left in the meantime, stood up so that I could put my larger bag in the overhead compartment and gave me a look of pity as the crazy man rambled on about my large bag.
"Sir," the lady interjected, "He's already putting it away. You can stop now please."
"It's dangerous to have it sticking out like that!"
The lady mercifully pointed out an unoccupied seat to me one row back and on the other side of the plane. "There's an empty seat there for you, young man, if you want to move," she said.
"Oh god yes!" I exclaimed and thanked her sincerely. I stowed my larger bag and took my new seat with my messenger bag. Mr. Rex said no more for the moment and I met the lady's gaze as she rolled her eyes and shook her head in his direction.
It was about 5 minutes after we took to the air that Mr. Rex frantically started searching his surroundings and the spaces between the seats.
"My book is missing!" he exclaims. He turns to the people sitting behind him and asks them if they can see it under his seat. They don't and he reaches his hands under the seat from the front and starts searching on his own.
I could see what is coming at this point and envision all the articles I've read about altercations on the flight and how one or both people usually cause the flight to be diverted so that the crazies get can kicked off. I pulled my messenger bag out from under the seat in front of me and checked to see if I might have grabbed it accidently. Fortunately, I only had the two that I had brought.
I still had it on my lap when he turns his head to me over his seat and angrily asks if I took his book. I let out an audible sigh, tell him no, and hold my bag open for him to see. I even pull out my copies of HST's Kingdom of Fear (how appropriate) and Kerouac's The Subterraneans so that he could see that neither were his. He scowled and continued searching around him and let out what sounded like a low growl. I thought once again how I would hate to see my name in the paper the next day and said nothing else said nothing else as I wondered if he had even checked the pockets of the seat in front of him. If he ever did over the course of the flight, I'll never know.
"He took my book!" he says out loud after patting the floor underneath him again.
All eyes are on me as I put my head in my hands and say "Sir, I did not. I know I didn't."
He loudly whispers to the lady that was beside us earlier that I stole his book. She says nothing but checks under her own seat anyway and finds nothing. He bounces up and down in his seat in frustration and says "I can't believe this!"
He turns back to me and shouts "I hope you enjoy it!"
I turn down the aisle behind me and look for a flight attendant. I see one coming up the aisle and flag her down. I whisper to her the details of the situation as calmly as I could hoping that she could see that who in this confrontation was the rational and sane one. I wanted him to audibly growl , complain, or do anything that would make him seem like the maniac.
"I just wanted to preemptively let you know that now he's accusing me of stealing his book. I've already had to move away from his seat because he was bothering me. I'm nervous enough on every flight and I just want a calm one."
"Which person was it?" she asks.
I point him out to her just as he looks over the seat and meets her gaze. He looks guilty and I wonder to my self if he found his book or realized he was acting like a fool. She turns back to me and pats my arm. "If he bothers you again," she says loud enough for him to here, "just let a flight attendant know and we'll find you another seat."
From this point on, he said nothing else during the flight even though he kept turning back to me over the course of the 3 hour flight. I never once met his glance to avoid any further provocation. I tried to nap a few times, but was too worried that he might snatch my bag to root through it while I was sleeping. I was looking forward to catching up on some sleep on the flight, but I kept waking up and checking for my bag throughout the flight.
When we arrived in Miami I saw him again on the other side of the baggage claim. I'm sure he saw me over the course of the hour and a half it took for our bags to be brought off the plane as the loading doors were stuck shut, but he never approached me. A lot of the people waiting from our flight were standing by the Carnival Cruise attendant and I dreaded possibly seeing this man again on the cruise ship. Fortunately, I did not see him on the cruise if he was there.
From the airport, our bus took us to the Miami port where our ship was docked. We were booked on Carnival's Imagination ship. It was nice and had plently to do while we were out at sea. Here are a few of the pictures we took on board.
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We left the port in Miami as the sun began to set.
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After that night, we had a full day at sea before we reached our first destination. Among the numerous resturants on board where we had access to food 24 hours a day, there was a casino, several pools and hot tubs, a spa, and even an air hockey table in the arcade. My plan was to book a swedish massage for our last full sea day on the return trip back to Miami. I had my first one last year after I won $390 playing $10 blackjack at Hard Rock Cafe in Vegas. It was pure heaven and I felt like a million dollars for a solid week after my session. Unfortunately, I would never get to go this time.
We arrived in Grand Cayman on Monday morning and had from 7 in the morning to 3:30 PM to see what we wanted to see before we had to be back on board. This is why I would definitely never go on another cruise again. The whole experience is like booking yourself into a hotel on vacation and then staying inside the hotel for the duration. The time you spend on the islands are rushed and chaotic if you plan on both an excursion and time for shopping.
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Beyond the beautiful water and tourist area, Grand Cayman didn't really have a lot going for it. We turned down any excursion options the cruise offered and decided to make our own way around town. We browsed through the shops and stopped in at Hard Rock Cafe for a drink. We picked out some merchandise we intended to come back for and walked back outside to browse some more of the shops.
Along the way we spotted a stand for scooter rental. Brian suggested we rent scooters and tour the island which I immediately agreed with. I've never really wanted a motorcycle, but one day I plan to purchase a Vespa. I don't care what people think about scooters in general, but I would love to own one to ride in the summer. A motorcycle is simply too much machine for me.
We each rented our own scooters and grabbed a little pocket map to set our course. I had heard that Grand Cayman was pretty boring and especially so the one area that everyone claims is a must see. At the northeast corner of the island was a town called Hell, named for the ominous looking rock formations that lined it's shores. They entice people all the way up there with the oppurtunity to mail a postcard to their friends and families with a postmark from "Hell." We intended to head for this destination first and continue on our way around our island to see as much as we could.
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This is where we stopped to document the distance we had travelled from our ship at port and where I had my accident. Yes... I crashed my scooter.
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Pictures of bloody injuries linked for the squeamish!
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I'll never be a hand model now!
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When we got back onto our scooters after our stop, I was trying to manuever past the truck that had blocked us in after we parked and I sort of lost control. My hand slipped off the brake and in a panic I overturned to the right and came down on my left side. I was dragged for a few feet before being stopped by another truck which my bike slid under. There was no real damage to the bike other than a few scratches, but I was a mess. I didn't take a picture of it, but I also scraped my left shoulder on the road.
These chickens and roosters were all over the parking lot at the grocery store. A rooster kept circling me as I tended to my wounds when Brian was inside buying me bandages and peroxide.
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When we returned to town, we went to the scooter rental place where we had earlier paid cash for the rental and left quickly when we realized she wasn't going right out to inspect the damage. That's right... we fled. We went the long way back around to Hard Rock Cafe, picked up our t-shirts and gifts for home, and went down the street to look at the other shops and get a few more pictures.
Ha ha... penis jokes!
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We were back to the ship by 4 for the rest of day where I took my first ever percoset for the pain (didn't help the pain or eventual nausea I felt later) and played a little more blackjack.
The next morning our ship pulled into the port of Jamaica. We arrived just as the sun was coming up and I took a few pictures as we got closer.
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We had decided to skip the excursion that would require any real physical activity like swimming with dolphins or climbing Dunn's River Falls as I was in quite a bit of pain. Instead, we paid the $90 each to go on the Bob Marley experience!
We boarded our rasta themed bus outside of port and were each handed a cup of strong rum punch and a bottle of rum. The strength of the punch was necessary in order to subdue us for the treacherous and bumpy hour and a half ride that would take us from our Ocho Rios port to the town of Nine Mile where Marley was both born and laid to rest. Our tour guide for the bus ride introduced himself and explained to us what he had planned for us that day. We were to drive to the Marley compound and make a pit stop to use restrooms and receive our complimentary lunch halfway there.
"I would like to mention," he said "that perhaps some of you thought that there would be a certain sort of smokin' on this tour." He looked toward the back of the bus where my brother and I and rest of the obvious stoners were seated. "I'm sorry to report that we don't condone that sort of activity and this is a non-smokin' bus. How many of you thought this trip might include a smokin' break?" I raised my hand for a gag along with the rest of the stoners on the tour.
"Sorry to disappoint you, good people, but it's time to get on the road."
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As expected we stopped halfway to the compound for snacks and refreshments at this little bar shown above. As I was standing there taking this picture, the tour guide approached me and offered to sell me some "ganja." His clever game was to deliver his preliminary speech to the poor disappointed stoners on the tour and then take note of who raised their hands so that he can approach them later at the pit stop. This was genius not only for that reason, but because he made his sale before we even got to the Marley compound where dozens of dealers would be crowding the bus trying to sell us their better quality ganja. Well, he sure fooled me. I bought about 4 grams from him for $20. Although of lower quality, it still got me really, really, really stoned later in the cruise after I snuck it back on to the ship.
Back on the bus, we were again offered another strong cup of rum punch. From here on out the roads would get narrower with more blind turns. Racing down these roads, the driver would beep his horn to let oncoming traffic know when we were coming. It was a little terrifying, but we made it to the compound without incident.
Along the way, we pulled over to snap a few pictures of the view that inspired "Natural Mystic." You can see the hills rolling away in the distance in the pictures, but it simply does not do it justice. It was breathtaking.
"At 3,000 feet elevation," explained the tour guide, "there's little you can do to get any higher in Jamaica.... but you can probably think of something."
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More to come because I don't want to type anymore right now.
The skeptic in me immediately refused the trip when one of our suppliers at work came to us with a cruise promotion last February. The idea was that the supplier attributed credit toward the trip based on a percentage of premium parts we'd buy over the rest of the year and our shop would pay the remainder of the balance. While it might sound fair to the same sucker that willingly walks in to a time share situation, I knew that in the end not only were they claiming a significantly higher price for the trip, but that their business would probably paying even less than I would had booked the trip myself. When I arrived late to work the next week, I learned that not only had my father accepted the offer on my behalf, but he had also slapped down the initial $500 deposit towards our payment plan. After reconsidering, I decided to go as the business would be picking up the costs and no sane man would turn down a free vacation.
My travelling buddy would be my brother and sometimes fellow board member Weird NJ (aka Brian). Here he is on the deck of our ship purposely standing in front of the "Smoke Free Area" sign smoking a cigarette.
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My trip began on a early morning flight from Newark airport on Saturday morning. I had decided to stay up the night before as I always get nervous that I may oversleep and miss my flight entirely. We arrived at Newark at 5:30 AM with an hour and a half to spare.
Upon proceeding through airport security, I had to inform yet another trained security staffer whose internal red alarms told him that the object in my carryon might possibly be a dangerous weapon that it wasn't a dangerous weapon at all, but a PSP. You can play video games, watch movies, and listen to music on it!
When we arrived at our gate, I left my bags with Weird and got in line at the coffee shop to get us a couple cups of delicious joe. My attention was drawn by the odd mannerisms of a peculiar old man several places ahead of me in line who held his arms up to his chest as a T-Rex might were he alive and well and standing in line for a cup of coffee at Newark airport. He was tilting and turning his head at odd angles to survey the airport around him and occasionaly noticing that the line had moved up ahead of him in the interim. When I finally paid for my empty cups and was directed to the carafes to my left I found the same man still there, but performing his stop and gawk routine directly in front of the coffee.
He seemed to be inspecting the building and looking at everything besides the coffee. The few people that had been between us in line were meekly trying to get by and reach around him in order to fill up their cups as he stood there clutching his empty cup offering no indication that he was going to pour himself some anytime soon. I reached past him with a curt "excuse me" and although he turned his head in my direction didn't seem to understand my purpose. I pointed to the coffee and he finally took a step back. I filled up my cups and headed back to Weird and remarked to him about the odd little lizard man I had met in line. I thought maybe that he had suffered a stroke or some other sort of debilitating disease that had wreaked havoc on his mental faculties.
Weird and I had noticed previously that are seats were not near each other. One disadvantage of having the trip booked for you is that you don't have any control over any of these details. Our seats were seperated by about 5 rows and after unsuccessfully trying to find two seats next to each other with the agent at the gate, we settled for the ones we had.
We boarded the plane and Weird took a seat as I continued past him counting the rows ahead of me to see exactly where I would be sitting. 24... 25... 26.... 27........ Oh no! Who is that in the seat next to me at the window? Why, it's none other than Mr. T-Rex coffee man!!! I inwardly rolled my eyes and cursed the gods for my odd twist of fate.
About a week before the trip, I went shopping for a new travel bag. I found a perfect Swiss Army carry on bag that although a little oversized, could fit my formal clothes as well as all of my gadgets for the trip. I took my seat next to Mr. Rex and tried to see if I could stow my bag under the seat in front of me.
"Doesn't fit! You have to move it," Mr Rex says immediately.
"No problem. I just bought it and wanted to see if it would fit," I explained.
"I could trip over it if we have to leave the plane. It's dangerous."
"Yes, I know. Like I said just trying to see if it would fit."
"It doesn't! Don't make me call the stewardess."
"Let me just grab my things out of it and I'll store it overhead," I said.
"I don't want to trip over it!"
It was at this point that I realized I better not say another word and just ignore him as I pulled my messenger bag out of my carry on and proceeded to fill it with only my books and gadgets I would need for the flight. He kept complaining the entire time as I no longer paid him any attention and went about my business. The lady that had sat down to our left in the meantime, stood up so that I could put my larger bag in the overhead compartment and gave me a look of pity as the crazy man rambled on about my large bag.
"Sir," the lady interjected, "He's already putting it away. You can stop now please."
"It's dangerous to have it sticking out like that!"
The lady mercifully pointed out an unoccupied seat to me one row back and on the other side of the plane. "There's an empty seat there for you, young man, if you want to move," she said.
"Oh god yes!" I exclaimed and thanked her sincerely. I stowed my larger bag and took my new seat with my messenger bag. Mr. Rex said no more for the moment and I met the lady's gaze as she rolled her eyes and shook her head in his direction.
It was about 5 minutes after we took to the air that Mr. Rex frantically started searching his surroundings and the spaces between the seats.
"My book is missing!" he exclaims. He turns to the people sitting behind him and asks them if they can see it under his seat. They don't and he reaches his hands under the seat from the front and starts searching on his own.
I could see what is coming at this point and envision all the articles I've read about altercations on the flight and how one or both people usually cause the flight to be diverted so that the crazies get can kicked off. I pulled my messenger bag out from under the seat in front of me and checked to see if I might have grabbed it accidently. Fortunately, I only had the two that I had brought.
I still had it on my lap when he turns his head to me over his seat and angrily asks if I took his book. I let out an audible sigh, tell him no, and hold my bag open for him to see. I even pull out my copies of HST's Kingdom of Fear (how appropriate) and Kerouac's The Subterraneans so that he could see that neither were his. He scowled and continued searching around him and let out what sounded like a low growl. I thought once again how I would hate to see my name in the paper the next day and said nothing else said nothing else as I wondered if he had even checked the pockets of the seat in front of him. If he ever did over the course of the flight, I'll never know.
"He took my book!" he says out loud after patting the floor underneath him again.
All eyes are on me as I put my head in my hands and say "Sir, I did not. I know I didn't."
He loudly whispers to the lady that was beside us earlier that I stole his book. She says nothing but checks under her own seat anyway and finds nothing. He bounces up and down in his seat in frustration and says "I can't believe this!"
He turns back to me and shouts "I hope you enjoy it!"
I turn down the aisle behind me and look for a flight attendant. I see one coming up the aisle and flag her down. I whisper to her the details of the situation as calmly as I could hoping that she could see that who in this confrontation was the rational and sane one. I wanted him to audibly growl , complain, or do anything that would make him seem like the maniac.
"I just wanted to preemptively let you know that now he's accusing me of stealing his book. I've already had to move away from his seat because he was bothering me. I'm nervous enough on every flight and I just want a calm one."
"Which person was it?" she asks.
I point him out to her just as he looks over the seat and meets her gaze. He looks guilty and I wonder to my self if he found his book or realized he was acting like a fool. She turns back to me and pats my arm. "If he bothers you again," she says loud enough for him to here, "just let a flight attendant know and we'll find you another seat."
From this point on, he said nothing else during the flight even though he kept turning back to me over the course of the 3 hour flight. I never once met his glance to avoid any further provocation. I tried to nap a few times, but was too worried that he might snatch my bag to root through it while I was sleeping. I was looking forward to catching up on some sleep on the flight, but I kept waking up and checking for my bag throughout the flight.
When we arrived in Miami I saw him again on the other side of the baggage claim. I'm sure he saw me over the course of the hour and a half it took for our bags to be brought off the plane as the loading doors were stuck shut, but he never approached me. A lot of the people waiting from our flight were standing by the Carnival Cruise attendant and I dreaded possibly seeing this man again on the cruise ship. Fortunately, I did not see him on the cruise if he was there.
From the airport, our bus took us to the Miami port where our ship was docked. We were booked on Carnival's Imagination ship. It was nice and had plently to do while we were out at sea. Here are a few of the pictures we took on board.
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We left the port in Miami as the sun began to set.
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After that night, we had a full day at sea before we reached our first destination. Among the numerous resturants on board where we had access to food 24 hours a day, there was a casino, several pools and hot tubs, a spa, and even an air hockey table in the arcade. My plan was to book a swedish massage for our last full sea day on the return trip back to Miami. I had my first one last year after I won $390 playing $10 blackjack at Hard Rock Cafe in Vegas. It was pure heaven and I felt like a million dollars for a solid week after my session. Unfortunately, I would never get to go this time.
We arrived in Grand Cayman on Monday morning and had from 7 in the morning to 3:30 PM to see what we wanted to see before we had to be back on board. This is why I would definitely never go on another cruise again. The whole experience is like booking yourself into a hotel on vacation and then staying inside the hotel for the duration. The time you spend on the islands are rushed and chaotic if you plan on both an excursion and time for shopping.
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Beyond the beautiful water and tourist area, Grand Cayman didn't really have a lot going for it. We turned down any excursion options the cruise offered and decided to make our own way around town. We browsed through the shops and stopped in at Hard Rock Cafe for a drink. We picked out some merchandise we intended to come back for and walked back outside to browse some more of the shops.
Along the way we spotted a stand for scooter rental. Brian suggested we rent scooters and tour the island which I immediately agreed with. I've never really wanted a motorcycle, but one day I plan to purchase a Vespa. I don't care what people think about scooters in general, but I would love to own one to ride in the summer. A motorcycle is simply too much machine for me.
We each rented our own scooters and grabbed a little pocket map to set our course. I had heard that Grand Cayman was pretty boring and especially so the one area that everyone claims is a must see. At the northeast corner of the island was a town called Hell, named for the ominous looking rock formations that lined it's shores. They entice people all the way up there with the oppurtunity to mail a postcard to their friends and families with a postmark from "Hell." We intended to head for this destination first and continue on our way around our island to see as much as we could.
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This is where we stopped to document the distance we had travelled from our ship at port and where I had my accident. Yes... I crashed my scooter.
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Pictures of bloody injuries linked for the squeamish!
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I'll never be a hand model now!
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When we got back onto our scooters after our stop, I was trying to manuever past the truck that had blocked us in after we parked and I sort of lost control. My hand slipped off the brake and in a panic I overturned to the right and came down on my left side. I was dragged for a few feet before being stopped by another truck which my bike slid under. There was no real damage to the bike other than a few scratches, but I was a mess. I didn't take a picture of it, but I also scraped my left shoulder on the road.
These chickens and roosters were all over the parking lot at the grocery store. A rooster kept circling me as I tended to my wounds when Brian was inside buying me bandages and peroxide.
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When we returned to town, we went to the scooter rental place where we had earlier paid cash for the rental and left quickly when we realized she wasn't going right out to inspect the damage. That's right... we fled. We went the long way back around to Hard Rock Cafe, picked up our t-shirts and gifts for home, and went down the street to look at the other shops and get a few more pictures.
Ha ha... penis jokes!
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We were back to the ship by 4 for the rest of day where I took my first ever percoset for the pain (didn't help the pain or eventual nausea I felt later) and played a little more blackjack.
The next morning our ship pulled into the port of Jamaica. We arrived just as the sun was coming up and I took a few pictures as we got closer.
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We had decided to skip the excursion that would require any real physical activity like swimming with dolphins or climbing Dunn's River Falls as I was in quite a bit of pain. Instead, we paid the $90 each to go on the Bob Marley experience!
We boarded our rasta themed bus outside of port and were each handed a cup of strong rum punch and a bottle of rum. The strength of the punch was necessary in order to subdue us for the treacherous and bumpy hour and a half ride that would take us from our Ocho Rios port to the town of Nine Mile where Marley was both born and laid to rest. Our tour guide for the bus ride introduced himself and explained to us what he had planned for us that day. We were to drive to the Marley compound and make a pit stop to use restrooms and receive our complimentary lunch halfway there.
"I would like to mention," he said "that perhaps some of you thought that there would be a certain sort of smokin' on this tour." He looked toward the back of the bus where my brother and I and rest of the obvious stoners were seated. "I'm sorry to report that we don't condone that sort of activity and this is a non-smokin' bus. How many of you thought this trip might include a smokin' break?" I raised my hand for a gag along with the rest of the stoners on the tour.
"Sorry to disappoint you, good people, but it's time to get on the road."
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As expected we stopped halfway to the compound for snacks and refreshments at this little bar shown above. As I was standing there taking this picture, the tour guide approached me and offered to sell me some "ganja." His clever game was to deliver his preliminary speech to the poor disappointed stoners on the tour and then take note of who raised their hands so that he can approach them later at the pit stop. This was genius not only for that reason, but because he made his sale before we even got to the Marley compound where dozens of dealers would be crowding the bus trying to sell us their better quality ganja. Well, he sure fooled me. I bought about 4 grams from him for $20. Although of lower quality, it still got me really, really, really stoned later in the cruise after I snuck it back on to the ship.
Back on the bus, we were again offered another strong cup of rum punch. From here on out the roads would get narrower with more blind turns. Racing down these roads, the driver would beep his horn to let oncoming traffic know when we were coming. It was a little terrifying, but we made it to the compound without incident.
Along the way, we pulled over to snap a few pictures of the view that inspired "Natural Mystic." You can see the hills rolling away in the distance in the pictures, but it simply does not do it justice. It was breathtaking.
"At 3,000 feet elevation," explained the tour guide, "there's little you can do to get any higher in Jamaica.... but you can probably think of something."
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More to come because I don't want to type anymore right now.