Mary is pregnant. Pregnant ladies typically have the right of way, for everything. Yesterday, was no exception.
The day started off with breakfast with everyone that was still left on the island for the Breuss-Willis wedding (have you said the name of the wedding out loud?) As a few of Logan’s family members and Katelyn’s friends left, we wrapped up our breakfast and planned a nice morning trip over to the conch part of the island. We’ve heard it referred to by locals as a conch farm, but I’m not sure what qualifies something as a farm as I did not see farmers, equipment, chambers, tools, or any human input of any sort…nor did I see any live conch…so let’s go with conch islet.
Kate, Logan, Mary, Ricky, Dani, Don, and the two of us signed out our resort cruising bicycles (most painful “comfortable ride” bikes I’ve ever sat on…). By the end of the trip, I had heard, “I feel like…”
I broke my ass bone.
Someone beat me in my pelvis.
I’ve been rendered impotent.
I’ve been castrated. (…this coming from both men and women alike.)
Like I have scrambled eggs.
…among several others non-internet-approved comments that while crude, were very accurately descriptive of our pain.
Did you see the upside down heart in the photo above? A guy made it to propose to a girl from out of an airplane. Ever since people have been adding to it.
Played with adoptable puppies…urgh…
Let’s skip ahead to when Kate and Logan left, and the six of us others went on to eat at Jimmy’s. Jimmy’s seemed to be the equivalent of The Locust Tap crossed with a couple of other dive bars. The menu had a disclaimer to the effect of: Jimmy reserves the right to close for any reason, sunny days, rainy days, stormy days, holidays, Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, to go fishing, to sleep in or for any other reason Jimmy so pleases… The place served any kind of fried junk food you’d like and had extra alcoholy drinks and quick service. We loved it. We ordered 5 nacho platters and a basket of fried conch balls (menu name). Mary and I had non-alcoholic blended rinks, Dani and Don opted for Diet Cokes, while Ricky and Dado carried the team on the stiffest mohitos ever made. (I just learned that the mystery speed at which Ricky’s mohito was disappearing was thanks Dani…Ricky, did you know that she was pulling swigs off your sippy cup?)
We got rained off the patio and Don signed our names with green Sharpie into the ceiling of the grimy joint. And we were on our way (after a couple of hours…)
We wanted to buy some souvenirs for friends and family (FAIL…don’t be expecting anything…sorry to say…there was nothing really to buy…) and we came across a gallery. We sauntered around looking at a lot of blue ocean and island art when Mary asked to use the restroom. Like I said earlier, thankfully people say yes to pregnant woman. So the attendant directs Mary to the bathroom. A couple of minutes later we hear Mary cry out for Ricky. Dani was closest in the compartmentalized store and like an emergency telephone tree we echoed the cry for Ricky until it reached Ricky himself over in the far corner of the store. All a little panicked, we collected in the room closest to the bathroom.
To that point, Dani and I had been complaining of our pregnant bellies full of nachos. We were in so much pain that we just needed to get it out of us. Purchasing laxatives seemed like a great idea and we discussed it seriously. Let’s be real here, constipation is a serious travel problem and there were small celebrations each day when someone reported a bathroom victory. Small joys. Lol, they’re particularly small when you’re constipated, if you know what I mean. [Dear Reader: If I’m already bothering you with this talk…stop reading here, please. Let’s remain friends.]
So, Dani and I are dying at this point, bellies are distended a good 6 inches and we seriously are more pregnant looking than Mary…we are in total agony at this point because we just spent about $230 on about 2 lbs of nachos. But suddenly it hits me and I’m thinking “Mary, get the fuck out of the bathroom. I’ve gotta go.” But at this point we don’t know what is wrong. Ricky cries out, “Oh my God!” And a high-pitched shrill came from the bathroom followed by a wailing. We all thought it was a negative sound and a panic came over Dani as she thought something very bad had happened to the baby or the baby mamma. I look over and Mary comes out crying and Ricky bursts out of the bathroom with arms up…in a split second so many things happened that the reactions that came about were priceless. Ricky’s burst made Dani cry. Dani fell to the ground. Don came to help. Mary’s tears were tears of laughter, but because Dani was on the ground she couldn’t see that. Ricky yells she pooped a flower, and Dani realizes everything is ok. At this point, my abs were clenched from the adrenaline rushing through me; I was ready to help. But now everything was ok and the adrenaline that was hyping me up was now decreasing and whatever was in me now was working incredibly quickly as a very effective laxative. Ricky says there is “No water! She pooped and there is no water and there’s a flower in the toilet!” I said, “Ricky, move, I have to go.” He says, “But she can’t flush!” “I don’t care, I have to go!” I was literally about to soil myself and if I didn’t go where Mary went, it would have been in the middle of the store so…I went where Mary went. And yes, there was a flower.
Now, Dani was crying for a new reason, Mary and I were feeling good, Dani, not so much. She was still knocked up by Jimmy’s pricey nachos. The Nacho baby was still very much locked up.
We were faced with a dilemma…do we leave the store at this point? Do we clean the toilet? Why did they not tell Mary that this toilet didn’t work (or the tap…cause she tried to wash her hands too with the SOAP that was there!!!)? We begged the lady to let us help her take care of the problem so she didn’t have to. The solution ended up being pretty simple: a giant bucket of water.
I think I’ll leave you with that…enjoy the rest of the photos.