Puerto Rico Digest
* Do you want some coffee?
* Are you kidding? Did you hear nothing about my weekend? I’m never drinking that stuff again.
* That’s my Michael: all or none. Nothing in moderation.
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Damnit kids, just because I’m the only one wearing cargo shorts on this rainforest expedition doesn’t mean I’m the guy who has to carry your sunglasses, your asthma meds, your stuffed animals, your Skittles – actually, I’ll take the Skittles.
* * * *
For the last time: you do not “ride the bidet”. A bidet is not for recreational use. A bidet is for washing asses. To my knowledge, no group of people has ever formed a line waiting for a turn to wash their ass.
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No Caffeine, Day Six. Long naps taken: four. Headaches: five and a half. Events slept through: at least six, including two flights, one family water park, one rainforest tour introductory movie, and the first page (six times) of the vacation book I keep trying to read.
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Whoever called these “lazy rivers” obviously never got into one with my kids. Working my ass off here . . .
* * * *
“Mom! Dad just ate a Jolly Rancher he found on the bus!”
“Michael!”
“It was still in the wrapper. I’m not an animal. And I’m guessing you guys don’t want these others I found?”
* * * *
Our youngest son is singing the song “Oliver” over and over in a maddening loop, but he has changed it to “Daddy-ver”. I so, so deserve this.
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“No American Express.”
“What do you mean? There’s an American Express sticker on your front door.”
“No American Express.”
“But, this bumper on your conveyor belt says you ‘proudly accept American Express’.”
“No American Express.”
” . . . Is this about my Pollos Hermanos t-shirt?”
* * * *
Had I but known that neither Apple Maps nor Google Maps could get me back to the resort, I would have paid more attention to . . . well, something, anything. As it is, I am reduced to reading a map myself (on my phone) and then attempting to navigate by it, like some godforsaken pilgrim in wooden shoes and wool who believes the world is flat and women are property. At least this rented minivan is laden with copious snack food, for this could take some time. But I also see from my web-based research that our resort is equipped with a casino – a fact of which my goodly wife failed to apprise me. Had I not been woefully lost and in need of directions from the Internet, I would not have discovered this grievous omission. So perhaps everything happens for a reason after all. How delightful.
* * * *
You’re up at 4:30AM, and you wake the kids at 4:45, and by 5:00 you’re driving to the airport. And you make great time, and you even remember to fill up the rental car before turning it back in. And it’s not until you’re at the airport kiosk that your wife suddenly remembers that she forgot her purse in the drawer beside the bed. The purse with her driver’s license! And she’s in a mortified panic. And a younger version of you would have cursed and moaned and thrown a fit. Because how could she forget her purse?! And how is she going to get on the plane?!? But you’re wiser now. And cooler. And you’ve traveled with this woman before. And you know her strengths, and you know her weaknesses. So you shrug, and reach into your carry on, and pull out her passport – the one you brought in case of this exact eventuality – and hand it to her. Like a boss.