Monday, September 26, 2011

My Vacation Planning: The Virgin Islands

       I haven't taken a trip in a long time. Not even a "day-cation" or whatever in the fuck they call "driving a long way from your home to dick off" these days. What I'm talking about is flying somewhere and staying long enough to steal a towel trip. That's the hallmark of any good outing. If you can walk off with a towel...that's a fucking vacation.

Vacation gold

      Every so often, I like to plan out an awesome trip, in my head. Due to my finances being in the crippled, diseased and dying state they're in, ventures such as "vacations" are laughably beyond my means. That doesn't mean I can't plan, goddammit! Now, here's the thing. I don't go online and do research and Price Line shit travel agencies. You know, go through the motions of ACTUAL planning. I just...rely on my assumptions and good ol' gut instinct to guide me through the process. I mean, come on, going through with pricing tickets, checking on hotel room prices, car rental and festivities...that would be fucking nuts. It's not fucking real. Am I fucking nuts? You tell me! I once avoided paying for dinner in a restaurant by talking dirt to, then dry humping a potted plant. Is that insane? IS IT? I didn't have to pay for the $12.00 for the burger! Who's crazy now?! 

Soooo worth a plant humpin'.

      So, being that I haven't been to the airport in a while, I'm assuming that everything on the news and what assholes complain about on the Internet is true. Security is going to be a real bitch. I have to get to the airport a whole day early...for all that nifty security. They keep that airport shit buttoned up tighter than a dolphin's ass hole...or other orifice. They feel up kids for bombs too. Fantastic. How the fuck do explain that to them without it sounding like condoned molestation? "Oh, the stranger is going to make you feel uncomfortable and awkward...but, it's okay this ONE time." No, no don't cry. Daddy's gonna get some too! Feel better? I guess we'll just have to swallow any explosive devices, we might want to bring to get around that. Alright, so, me, the girlfriend and the six kids, a day early. Eventually, we'll have to eat, right? Okay, bring a cooler full of shit, because, I'm not sure if you know this...but, the restaurants at the airport, like to over charge a little bit. When I say a little bit, it's like saying stealing from the Mafia, makes them "kinda angry". So, a few snacks in a cooler should suffice. I'll have to explain that to security. Nothing a heavy handed cavity search won't cover. My anal probing taken care of, we all settle in for a night of back aching airport slumber. Hey, we're on's a different environment to sleep in. Still sucks? WELL, SUCK IT UP KIDS! I GOT FINGER BANGED BY A SECURITY GUARD NAMED LUTHER! You're bad day was divinely blissful compared to mine. Now, go to sleep on your plastic chair beds. Whiners.

I don't want to talk about it ass hurts.

     We'd wake up early, in pain. We'd make it on board. Before hand we'd have to ditch the cooler with some random person. It's easy. Just leave it next to somebody whose not paying attention. Like, somebody  reading a book or looking up the latest "Cat makes face while shitting" video on You Tube and BOOM it's their problem. Speaking of which, the cooler would have a foam job, of course. Fuck everybody,  if they think I'm blowing money on a Coleman, to leave it with some air port douche bag, reading a Kindle. Fuck that cooler and fuck him too. Oop, I'd have to remember to call security from the plane...tell them there may be a bomb in a cooler in whatever terminal we leave from. 

Kinda like this except less gay...and with WAY better sun glasses. 

      So, we'd settle into our seats. The announcements would start...and then the panic. The kids would begin to cry...then, scream. I, of course, being the calmest of the group would have to quell the situation with the most frequently used parenting tool at my disposal. Belligerent screaming. Shouted obscenities, gestures and threats of bodily harm would be thrown this way and that. People would no doubt be looking on frightened, to which I'd snarl and say, "You can do better, bitch? Have at it! Until then, FUCK YOU AND what looks to be your lovely Grand Mother.". Hey, I'm not a fucking animal. After, yelling at the lady and her ugly grand ma and following it with a gesture of clutching of my balls with one hand and pointing at my genitalia with the other, I'd continue to shout at my children. Eventually, the captain would be summoned. He'd of course ask what the problem is. I'd turn to look at him and by this point, I'd be so blinded by child defiance fueled rage, I'd think,"Who the fuck does this fancy chauffeur think he is?", then loudly exclaim,"Get back up there and fly this fuckin' plane ass gasket! This giant dildo isn't going to fly itself!" Oh...right...he's the guy with the can of mace. That's who he is. 

This is Jedi form. 

      After being chemically blinded. My clan and I are escorted off the plane. At some point, due to my irrationality and my proficiency to trouser loss would say,"Where the fuck did my pants go?". They would likely have been lost during the beating I would have received from the captain, flight attendants, half a dozen passengers and one highly pissed Grand Mother. We'd be sent to security again. I'd be placed in a special "cell" and told to wait. Then, enduring another happy finger happy hour. I'd have my day in airplane court. So, long explanation and one sore ass later, we'd get thrown on a no-fly list for the violent passenger sort. 

But, I'd find myself on this guy's speed dial under...good time.

No more trip to the Virgin Islands. Did I mention that was where we were going? It doesn't matter. We wouldn't have had our Malaria shots anyway...or is it Scabies that they have? Which one causes your brain to liquify? Fuck. It's probably all of them. I don't know diseases...other than HIV. I have that one covered. I didn't plan on fucking any locals...unless it's a custom or something. Don't get me wrong, it would have to be a bitg time custom. Like, if I didn't "do" one of them they'd kill me or would eat me alive or something. There's cannibalism in the Virgin Islands, right? Shit diseases and cannibalism. What the fuck am I thinking? Maybe we should just go to Maine...far less cannibals.

Average resident of Maine

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