My mind is a dangerous place. Make sure you wear a cup.

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Island paradise, my ass

About a million years ago I won a sales contest at the company I worked for, and one of the prizes was a trip for two to Puerto Rico for a week.

I was between girlfriends at the time, so I wanted to take along a buddy of mine. Figured we would have a grand old time drinking and whoring and....well, whatever they do in Puerto Rico. Cockfights, maybe.

The district manager hated me and he said I couldn't take a friend. It was couples or nothing. Prick. I loathed that old bastard.

So I asked my friend Janet to come with me. Janet was the manager of another store for the company. There was nothing romantic going on, we were just pals. She was one of the guys, a lot of fun to be around. She said yes, we got it by the district manager, and we were off to Puerto Rico!

We were in a beautiful hotel somewhere on the beach north of San Juan, I can't remember the name of the town. Very fancy, casino, the whole nine yards.

It rained the first day. And it went downhill from there.

We didn't get along. And all Janet wanted to do was play golf. I don't play golf. I went the first day with her and some others, and drove the cart, because I had always wanted to drive a golf cart.

Turns out golf courses have a lot of rules.

Don't try to run over the lizards.
Don't drive on the greens.
Don't see if you can get it up on two wheels.

Geez. What a bunch of stiffs.

So the next day I said fuck it, and rented a car to go exploring. Who needs her? Who needs golf? Plus, I had found out that plenty of other winners had been allowed to bring friends along!

I was not a happy man. This may surprise you, but I can be a brooding, moody, son of a bitch sometimes.

Well, the car didn't work out all that well. I kept getting lost.

The first evening I ran it up onto the beach and had to pay to get it towed out.

The second day I got stopped for speeding in Bayemon by a cop who couldn't speak English. I just jabbered at him mindlessly until he let me go.

The third night I ran it into a cane field and ripped the side molding off the passenger's side.

By then I hated Janet, I hated the other winners, and all I wanted to do was get off that damn island and quit the damn company.

Like I said, moody.

Finally, the last day, thank God. Janet went to play golf (of course), and I reminded her she had to be back by a certain time so we could catch the shuttle to San Juan.

I packed (my suitcases were FULL of rum), turned in my rental car (they never looked at it, I skated on the damage), and waited for Janet.

She didn't show.

I got a call from her from the sister hotel. They missed the bus over to our hotel. Could I pick them up in my car?

Oh gee, sorry. Already turned it in.

Did I wait for her? I think you know the answer to that.

I left her ticket at the desk, and told her to try to catch up with me at the airport, hopped the shuttle to San Juan, and never looked back.

As luck would have it, there was a hurricane brewing, and I got the last flight out of San Juan to Miami that night.

I don't know what happened to Janet. I never spoke to her or saw her again. A month later I left that company for another job.

For all I know she's still there. Maybe white slavers got ahold of her.

That would be a shame.

3 Comments:

Blogger marisa said...

This is a good story.

You have helped make my penultimate pre-Christmas work day bearable.

Golf is silly.

Thank you.

4:40 PM  
Blogger Mr. Fabulous said...

Penultimate.

Great word. Love that word.

Nice work! Appreciate the sentiments.

5:22 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Faux is a good word too.

Things get faux at this time of year.

4:59 PM  

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