Wednesday, January 29, 2014

an introvert at the resort

My husband is sitting at a pool bar in Montego Bay. I approach him trying to balance all my swim items precariously in my arms and announce, "I'm moving down to the  beach. The people sitting next to me at the pool are getting obnoxious." He doesn't look up from his Sports Illustrated. He knows I will make this announcement several times today. Resort life is hard on introverts. Actually, only three kinds of people do well at these places. One, alcoholics. Two, people who get anxiety attacks if they aren't having a conversation with someone every fifteen minutes. And three, a combination of the first two.

I scan the little inlet looking out over the ocean. Two hefty guys are snoring in beach chairs. The one guy's shirt says, I ATE MY TWIN IN THE WOMB. Womb? Who says womb anymore? Are we living in the Old Testament? And the other fellow's shirt says, I DIDN'T CLIMB TO THE TOP OF THE FOOD CHAIN TO BECOME A VEGETARIAN. We are so thankful that printed text t-shirts are the norm these days so we can identify our fellow cretins and their faults in just a few printed words. So I will move away from these womb-spouting carnivores and try the other side of the beach. My eyes fall upon a group of Italian women all laughing and whooping and gesturing in a way that only Italians can gesture. I yearn for the private solitude of my living room couch.

Yep, pretty much the whole day.

 I see that offensive fashion choice, the speedo male swim suit still has not died. I don't know why European men find it necessary to exhibit the bulging outlines of their testicles. And all that body hair.

Most of my beach mates are from Midwestern states and a lot from Canada. I know, same thing.  Nope, you never see anybody here from Hawaii. I am affectionate of all things Canadian this week as my Kessler's whisky has not yet been introduced on this fair island. So I'm sipping on something called Canadian Mist and I'm feeling all warm and well cared for.

Big Dave is currently in the pool holding a strawberry daiquiri and picking out team mates for the pool Olympics activity. They all seem to be large-breasted women, their sunburned orbs bobbing and bouncing in the turquoise pool water. Sadly he will realize too late that people with this physical endowment move very slowly in shoulder-high water and the race will be lost.


1 comment:

Arizaphale said...

There used to be laws about exposing this much flesh in public. Perhaps they should be re-instated.