Hey, this is my place. Grab a seat and relax for a bit. If you are expecting deep philosophical blather you are going to be dissappointed. You have been warned as some of the opinions discussed on this blog are the opinions of the owner and may or may not align with your own.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Back from Jamaica man..barely
To say the trip had it's interesting points would be an understatement. Where do I begin? Should I start with the Montego Bay airport and the lack of a clear understanding as to how to get people from the gate to the proper bus for transportation? Nope...that happens here in the states and is not specific to just the airport folks in Jamaica. Although, when you're in a foreign country and it's been 10 minutes since you deplaned and they have already lost you there is definitely room for improvement. My wife and I witnessed a couple who was on our bus get taken off the bus, put onto presumably the right bus, have that bus drive away only to return 10 minutes later..because it was the wrong bus. Seeing that happen, you begin to wonder if you are on the right bus..or if any of the locals who do this everyday know what bus is the right bus. This actually brought back unsettling memories of the first day of school trying to find the right bus to get home after a long hard day. All the while this is happening other folks are getting on the bus. I am referring to one couple in particular whom will be called for purposes of this entry "Ganja Man and Crack Hoe".
GM and CH boarded the bus and sat in the seats located behind my wife and I. The guy wasn't in his seat for more than 30 or so seconds and he had already pulled a small bag from his luggage containing a leafy green substance. He looked up at my wife and asked, "wanna get yo weed on?". My wife responded with a, "no thank you". He then looked at me and asked, "wanna get yo weed on man?" to which I responded, "no thanks man". My wife and I both knew we were in for an interesting ride. Minutes before the 2 hour ride (yes, I said 2 hour ride) to the resort in Ocho Rios, CH informs her pimp daddy that she needs a beer and trots off back into the airport. Needless to say I was not happy at the fact that there were cops all over the airport, this freakin yahoo is rolling his own dubage, and his hoe decides to go back for a beer. The driver comes back to the side of the bus (did I mention that the bus is a VW bus the size of a tin can and it's carrying 7 people? I digress), he sees what the dude is doing and tells us all that he can't smoke that in the bus. If the cops stop us on the way and catch a whiff of that stuff, they'll pull everyone off the bus and tear through every bag looking for the rest of the stash. Now, I like Jamaica and the people are nice enough, however at this point I am not relishing the thought of hangin out in a Jamaican jail because of jocko here. Reluctantly he agreed to not, "get his weed on" in the bus. His chick came back with 2 Redstripes (Jamaican Lager) and we were finally on our way.
The highways in Jamaica can't really be called highways, they are more like back roads with a plethora of potholes, trenches, and parts that are just plain missing. The posted speed limits are 80 km/h, though our top speed was no better than 30-40 the entire way there. During this trip, I had Captain Ganja who was supposedly an expert in all things Jamaican, schooling me in all the things that I and my wife were required to do. The times he wasn't barking at me in Ebonics, he was firing questions at the driver about where the baddest parts of Kingston were. He and his posse were looking for some action and that was the place to get it. The only times this guy wasn't shooting his mouth off was when his girlfriend (CH) was flashing her boobs at him (my wife witnessed the carnage first hand, I was obliviously to this tomfoolery), and the two times we had to stop cuz she had to pee. During the second of the two pee breaks, we were handed a little retribution as when she was getting off the bus she cranked her head something fierce on the sliding door to which I laughed out loud in my head.
It was dark when we reached the first stop off. The two ladies that were sitting in front of us disembarked from the bus. I thought to myself, finally we would be rid of GM and CH. My relief turned to horror when the driver closed the door and got back in the bus. My worst fears had been realized, these two people would be with us for the duration as their final destination was ours as well. Yes....GM and CH were staying at the Sunset Jamaica Grand...SON OF A! The rest of the ride was similar to first half, him barking questions and orders, and her flashing her boobs at him. At one point I had thoughts of taking one of his empty beer bottles smashing it in my lap and shoving the broken shards of glass in my eye.
We finally reached the resort and unloaded everything from the bus. We checked in at the front desk right next to our friends, had our luggage loaded onto the same cart as our friends, walked to the elevator with our friends, rode the elevator with our friends....were we ever to escape these two pukes? That part of our story is forthcoming in a future episode of the Jamaican Nightmare.
Muppy Mup people.