toga party

we have two and a half days left in this idc.  overall it’s been a good one.

a screaming snit, a modicum of moaning, traces of tears, and a bit of blood.

and that’s just the idc staff instructor.

so we find ourselves with two and a half days free to brush up on waterwork, theory, and presentation skills.  we have a little room to relax.

the timing is more than a little serendipitous in that tonight (our off night as it were) just happens to coincide with tranquila bars’ annual toga night.

this is the night that officially kicks off ’semana santa’ (holy week).  or, put another way, the spring break of central america.

it’s also the night when all of the tourists don their togas (read: only clean sheet) and try to entice other tourists to share the aforementioned togas with them.

(come to think of it, it’s probably the only night of the year when all of the tourists have clean sheets.)

anyway, there will be a couple of frosty cold beers watching the  sunset from the dock at tranquila bar (frosty cold beers like sunsets, too), followed by an unbelievably good meal at Dave’s right next door, (set to the dulcet tones of Dave’s Grateful Dead collection), transitioning back to the tranquila bar to watch a night of frolic the likes of which Ph.D. candidates in Sociology all over the world would give their eye teeth to witness.

and horseshoes and the best brisket this side of Texas at the Driftwood Cafe tomorrow.

i am well and truly blessed.

jungle jim snot download…

…this is the search phrase that at least one person used to get to my blog today.

as far as i know i have never used the word ’snot’ in one of my postings.

and why would anyone really care about how i go about evacuating my sinuses?

since you asked…

sometimes i just let it run down my face over and through my mustache until it finally stops, dries up, and gets all flakey and just let the geckos fight over it.

other times, when i’m diving, i roll over on my back, close one side of my nose with my finger, blow as hard as i can, do the other side, and watch the two globs race each other to the surface like two sleek sea slugs slithering swiftly and silently toward the sun.

and when i’m lucky enough to feel a sinus infection coming on i take a saline lavage up each nostril, let it all run into a bowl, compare the colour to that green stuff in my toilet, and just let it harden. i get some pretty gnarly patterns like that sometimes.

at the tranquila bar i might blow it into a shooter of tequila and tabasco sauce.

i call it a snot slinger.

if i can’t do any of those things i just fire it off into the street.

hope this helps.

leap day…

…what an interesting little detail of our lives in the 21st century.

the idea to change our calendar in order to accommodate this anomaly in time apparently came to julius ceasar in an epiphany of sorts while he was in the midst of absorbing some of cleopatra’s culture.

of course this was at least 48 years before jesus came on the scene and compelled the pope to say “nope” to these kinds of shenanigans so it’s not like they were having too much fun or anything.

not that there’s anything wrong with that.

the irish (go figure) gave us another use for this day. sadie hawkins day came about when st. bridget convinced st. patrick to let women have one day to propose marriage to the man of their choice.

if the man refused he was to pay a fine.

st. patrick gave them leap day.

this explains the nervous leaping about from pub to pub men have been practicing ever since.

(i can state with no small amount of pride that i have managed to escape this barbaric practice again this year.)

leap day was actually meant to bring mankind’s calendar more in line with mother nature’s calendar but we still come up short by three days every 10,000 years.

i’m going to miss my anniversary again.

oreo cookies

i love me some oreo cookies.

give me a hot cup of coffee and a fresh packet of oreos to start the day and i may just smile at a divemaster trainee.

so it was a little disappointing to find that i had eaten the entire stock of oreos at my neighborhood store with three days left until the supply boat came in.

it was with much anticipation and a heightened sense of anxiety and increasing surliness that i watched the hours stroll slowly by until the supply boat came in.

as the hours stretched interminably into minutes i found myself kicking at puppies, scowling at babies, and threatening divemaster candidates with almost herculean underwater tasks while desperation grew inexorably into irrational rage while waiting until the supply boat came in.

the blessed day arrives.

i sit across the street watching boxes being lifted out of the truck and thrown to the ground. “wait! that’s fragile!”, screamed the voice inside my head, “you’re going to crumble up the cookies!”.

i wait through the daily siesta when everything is closed up.

at 2:20pm i hear the sound of a 4-wheeler. i know that sound. it’s the owner coming to open the shop for the afternoon.

i begin to wag my tail. (don’t tell me you’ve never done that.)

finally the new packets of cookies are on the shelf. i dash in, grab one, and dash back to the shop.  (after paying of course)

i begin to hum a song. (”crew sluts” from zappa’s “two hundred motels”)

i pour a cup of coffee and sit down.

i open the pack.

they’re stale.

my new dive computer

well, my new dive computer now has (officially) 6 dives on it.

as soon as i can figure out the logbook function i will tell you what those profiles were.

one of these dives is logged as an actual salt water dive (once i finally cracked the code on the proper Set mode and made the little flashy thing move to “salt”).

i haven’t gotten bent yet so it must be working.

i’ve been thinking about buying some more and renting them to the students at a couple of other dive shops on the island. maybe then i can make a little extra money and not have to spend so much time at the chamber control panel.

i really love being back in the water on a regular basis but it has put a serious mojo on my drinking habit.

top ten reasons why this is a bad thing:

10) i’m not drinking as much.

9) i’m losing weight. i’m not as cranky.

7) i’m eating healthier.

6) i’m not drinking as much.

5) i find myself smiling for no reason at all. (no, i’m not in love.)

4) i found myself listening patiently to a divemaster trainee the other day.

3) i’m not drinking as much.

2) yesterday i passed up a perfectly good chance at kicking a dog.

1) i’m watching more letterman on tv.

somebody stop me.

progress

the minions of progress have escalated the war designed to keep jungle jim from getting to the hot shower that is rightfully his.

they have brought in high tech implements moving from simple rock picks and shovels to an actual rust-free back hoe.

this smacks of imperialist intervention and will not be tolerated.

in their inexorable march down the hill (it seems i’ve found myself in an untenable defensive position) they have pushed past the cut-off where i could outflank them and come into my apartment from the rear.

this means that, if they haven’t already blocked the back way as well, i’ll have to walk all the way past the mango inn and double back just to get home.

a near half mile walk.

the world famous jungle jim beer belly is very close to becoming an endangered species.

(note to self: drink more beer.)

levels of awareness

ok, ok…i hope you had your fun.

why, in my fourth month of living in this apartment, did i not know there was a back way in?

everybody let me piss and moan about the huge mountain of debris (jagged rocks, killer clay, manic mud, dog pee, demonic trenches and who knows what else?) blocking my way home, keeping me from going to my local pub (tranquila bar; driftwood cafe) and i had to hear about the back door into my apartment building from my bartender!?

(note to self: bartenders know everything.)

that’s ok, though, because Bruce (not his real name) happened to have given me a pound of real live, honest to God, Jimmy Dean sausage a few days ago and i cooked it this morning before coming to the dive shop.

i made a 1/2 pound sausage and egg sandwich for breakfast.  I was so excited i forgot to put the egg in.

and ate the whole thing while wafting (yes, that’s a real word) the aroma all around so everyone could share the experience.  (especially the vegans and vegetarians.)

it was a life transforming and spiritually fulfilling dance of pure joy.

this pig did not die in vain.  (note to self:  name your next album this.)

pump up the volume!

spring cleaning

i have no idc to run this month so that gives me a chance to clean up the clutter left behind from the month before. finishing msdt programs, fulfilling someone else’s long forgotten promises left behind from long ago, and generally getting my shit together for special projects and next month’s idc.

the road construction: (”building barriers of mud, rock, and open trenches you have to walk miles around because we don’t give enough of a shit to make a simple pathway for you to walk across safely, and, oh by the way, we’re going to turn the electricity off tonight so you can’t even see them on your way home”)

that’s the actual motto of the construction crew; there wasn’t enough room left on the sign for “men working”.

and, as a special bonus, these barriers are on both ends of the block.  no, really.

i even saw a dog turn around this morning.

now i know why they were standing around laughing all day.

these guys could’ve worked for the texas highway department.

the gauntlet…

i decided to go to the ferry dock this morning to check out the daily festivities.

these are known affectionately as “the running of the tourists”.

since tourists are the lifeblood of the dive shops on the island (all thirteen of them), the dive shops send several of their “representatives” to the dock in order to “greet” them.

the goal of the various divemasters and instructors that are on the dock is to divert (by any means possible) the tourists to their (and ONLY their) diveshop while navigating through a maze of “hostile” divemasters and instructors from “other” dive shops that are hell bent on “stealing” said tourists from the rightful owners.

* this is known as the “i saw them first” rule.

(the diving community here is very mature…for a bunch of twelve year olds)

the dive shop “reps” employ various tactics in order to receive the coveted pat on the head from their dive shop managers.

the wall: this is where seven or eight “reps” link arms and block the entire dock with a manoeuvre designed to envelope great groups of unsuspecting marks and directing (pushing) them down the proper road (usually to the right) to the proper dive shop.

* five or more marks delivered to and signed up with the proper dive shop gets the”rep” the coveted pat on the head plus the scratch behind the ear cluster.

the prevent defense: this is where groups of one or two “reps” intercept a rival group and engage them in friendly banter thereby distracting them and throwing them into a confused state by pretending to want to “get to know” them. this leaves the marks free to be netted by the wall.

the layer cake: three groups of two or more “reps” space themselves length wise along the dock and, while one group is distracting the marks, the other group is busily stuffing flyers full of “free” offers into the unsuspecting marks backpack and relieving them of the flyers from the other dive shops.

all of this, as well as the fact that nearly every truck on the island is trying to pick up freight at the same time, makes for quite a show.

take heart; once you get through this mass of greed this island is worth every minute of it.

you might want to shave your head, tape up your ears, and get your rugby moves down first, though.

sailboters

utila is a special place.

as such it attracts all kinds of “special” people.

sailboters are part of this demographic. they come into shore (tranquila bar) for supplies, drinks, sunsets and sailboter camaraderie. this usually involves complaining that things here are not like they are “back home” and the local bars/restaurants don’t have their “back home” favorite things.

not that there’s anything wrong with that.

they also have a problem wrapping their head around the fact that the “restroom”, such as it is, is for those with a female gender stamp. the guys piss off the dock.  it’s a bar.  it’s over the water.

that’s just the way it is.

deal with it.

anyway…i like to think of myself as a nice guy. even a helpful one.

in that vein i happened to mention this arrangement to a couple of sailboters who decided that the open spot at the dock was conveniently left open for them.

they looked at me in that strange tone of voice that says “quick, edna, let’s git outta hyar afore this guy mugs us er sumpin”, and scampered off to the safety of the main street.

i’m hoping they at least enjoyed the smell of ammonia in the evening on the ride back to their bote.

disclaimer: no real sailors were harmed and/or mentioned in the crafting of this post.