Faux first class flight … screaming critter on board behind me (someone, please shove a tit in its mouth) … five hours of intertwined tongues in the seats in front of me (selfish bitch didn’t even offer to share him). My morning is redeemed by an incredible breakfast Bloody Mary.
“All inclusive” excludes room service … my mom’s luggage went where? … yes, guest services, a plumber would be delightful; we do prefer to flush, thank you. Watching the sapphire Caribbean as her waves caress the silvery sands at my doorstep is even more intoxicating than the banana daiquiris.
Jacob, I feel your extinguished anticipation as you lifted that veil and found Leah, the sorry substitute for your desired Rachel. Clearly this resort has stolen a few of its stars … Sssssssp! Sssssssp! Ssssssssssp! WTF?? You wait until now to tell me it’s illegal here, too!? … Damn, that’s one big-ass mosquito! Hell is only this paradise’s temporary disguise; we have a beautiful wedding waiting in its wings.
And just as I sell myself on the promise that the worst is behind me and that tomorrow will be the tropical dream I rented, the thunder barks and the clouds burst into tears.
Welcome to Jamaica, man!