Tuesday:
So this is seventy!
So this is Roatan, Honduras!
If someone told we when I was growing up that I’d be welcoming an important milestone birthday on an excursion that involves wild monkeys and a chocolate factory, I would have wondered if they were a baboon on a sugar rush.
It may take some time to acknowledge all your acknowledgments on this jam packed active day, so let me thank you in advance and tell you about last night.
Lemon Curd Tartlet.
Remember that if nothing else.
We had a wonderful dinner with Suzette and Allan, swapping stories about our days.
Their excursion sounded interesting, but I’m not sure I’m a “taste a different flavored tequila before noon” type of gal.
I’m more of a “ can I get up at eleven and still salvage the day?” type of gal.
After dinner, Suzette was off to the spa for a well earned facial, while Jim, Allan, and I kicked back in the Schooner bar and listened to an amazing pianist who got me up on my geriatric feet.
I wanted to dance to “ You Can’t Stop the Beat” , but “Hairspray “ isn’t his thing, (nor yours if you didn’t get the “ seaweed” reference in yesterday’s blog,) but that’s ok.. he played a little ABBA and my tired old self became a little less tired as a “ Dancing Queen.”
“ Dancing Queen … only seven-ty!”
He got the entire bar to sing happy birthday to me and I was positively giddy with euphoria.
Something tells me this is going to be a very special birthday..
And it’ll was/is!
First stop on our excursion is a chocolate factory, and I now smell like cocoa butter.
But as soon as I walked into the shop, what does Muzak randomly play?
You guessed it.. more DQ!
It’s ABBA-solutely a sign!
We’re in a submarine!
And I crossed the rickety bridge without falling into the murky water… with the help of the welter weight wrestling team from Honduras
I’m looking out the porthole and seeing nothing but water the color of Top Job, but I’ll keep you updated.
Here’s the update:
Fish and coral.. here we go!
“Gilligan” just said that the coral is firm, sturdy, and heavy, and I shout out, so am I “
White sand is purified parrot fish poop.
Fun fact .
Going in a submarine and looking at an endless display of what could be anything from jellyfish, used tissues, or used condoms is a fact, but not necessarily a fun one.
I saw what I saw.
“We thought you said the monkey house.”
The most quotable line in cinematic history, save for “we’re gonna need a bigger boat” but if the Icon of the Seas got any bigger it would have to go on Ozempic.
Let me tell you more about those little imps from said monkey house.
I am now back on an air conditioned bus, soaked to the bone, shoes ruined by a dangerous mud slide, glasses drenched and useless, and I must say that I think i can now successfully audition for “Survivor,” but more importantly, I just had one of the greatest experiences of my life .. on my birthday to boot.
Said experience ended with a stranger approaching me and saying “ I saw that monkey tail go into your mouth’” and me replying,” yeah well.. it’s my birthday so it’s one of those special occasions.”
It was fun seeing the sloths and monkeys in their natural habitat ( we named our favorite Mike Nesmith) but we had no idea what was in store for us at the next enclosure.. an interactive experience that was equally terrifying and hilarious.
We were told to remove everything and store it on a community shelf before entering.. keys, hats, pocket contents.
“But I can’t see without my glasses!” I plead. “What’s next? You’re gonna make me remove my bra?”
( Oh wait.. would that be a bad thing?)
Anyway, we shelve our valuables, form a tight circle in the enclosure, and then, out of nowhere, we are totally engulfed in simians.
They were on our faces, arms, hair.. scattering and scurrying like panicked roaches in a Hell’s Kitchen apartment .
I scream at one of them, “ do you know how much a hair straightening treatment costs?”
(I think he was the one who tried to get me to go all Monica Lewinsky on his tail.)
To increase the chaos and side splitting hilarity, the trainer soaked our palms with a liquid he called “gummy bears” and I truly believe they were gummy bears, but probably the medical kind.
I rubbed the residue on Jim’s shirt just for kicks.
Got so many kicks that I could be a Rockette.
We didn’t get to interact with the macaws at the next exhibit, because they apparently dislike torrential downpours.
( or getting back into the ship in soaking Skechers.. they’re gonna smell like a monkey soon. It’s just a matter of time)
Anyway, if you’re ever on the Icon, don’t miss this fabulous excursion..
Chocolate in your bellies, vertigo in your inner ears( from the submarine ) and monkeys on your back.
Totally worth every penny and every future bout with pneumonia we’re all likely to come down with.
I’ll write more this evening.. but thanks for all the birthday love!
No comments:
Post a Comment