Gay Summer Camp (Part 2)
So Wednesday was the trip to Chitzen Itza, or as I like to call it, the Mayan Death March. Chitzen Itza is like 2 and half hours from our hotel, so we are talking some serious bus time. But it doesn’t phase me. I get in the bus, which is thankfully air conditioned, and I promptly succumb to tour bus narcolepsy. At some point, someone wakes me to hand me these drawings of ancient mayans having sex in hammocks. Umm, what did I miss that would make them hand out ancient mayan porn? And do they show these to the regular tours filled with families? Because I’m thinking if they did it just for us, they might have re-thought the subjects. Maybe two guys instead. But that does remind there is that row of hammocks back at the resorts. Hmm. But I digress. We stop for the mandatory tourist stop/bathroom break. Yawn, see it all before. And it’s really not that nice. Finally around 1130 we get to the park. Now we are way inland on the peninsula and the jungle is thick here and there is no breeze. None. Nada. And it is just ugly hot. Talk about miserable. But the ruins were spectacular. We walked around for quite a bit and our tour guide gave us a lot of background on the site. It really was amazing and there were parts of the ruins that you could climb on, but most of the major parts, including the main pyramid, were roped off. That was kind of sad. Did I mention it was hot? And I just
can’t imagine that some older, maybe heavyset tourist hasn’t dropped from heat stroke before. No idea where any medical facilities are, and I don’t want know. After a couple of sweat drench hours at the ruins, we left to eat lunch at another tourist trap like place where there are dancers. The dance show was okay, including one part where the spin a tray loaded with tequila and shot glasses on their heads. How’s that for talent? The funny thing is that they positioned themselves at the door to guilt trip us for tips as left. And yes, I was guilt tripped! After lunch we went to a ceynote. A sink hole. Apparently there is a huge series of underwater caves and sinkholes 
throughout the 
uits and got in. It felt SO good after being hot and sticky for so long. We swam and chatted for about 30 minutes in the clear water, even jumping off the ledge a time or two, before it was time to pile back into the bus. The return trip was uneventful except for a quick stop at an authentic Mexican village. At that point I was worn out and said no. The entertainment for the night was Ms. Ritchfield 1981. She was hilarious, as usual. My favorite line: “I wish you could live in my reality, but there’s only room for me.” After her show, it was time for the 80s & 90s party. YES! Just great music to include “Dress You Up” and “Holding Out for a Hero.” I refused to dance to anything by Michael Jackson. One must take a stand after all.
Thursday was quite a busy day. I mean I must have walked from my lounge chair by the pool to the bar atleast a dozen times to get a beverage. And yet I still managed to participate in water aerobics, which I really don’t think were that aerobic in nature. So I spent the first part of the day just working on my tan. Still slathered up, but I was starting to get red a bit. But then it was time for Club Atlantis version of the Amazing Race. Since Greek Boy wasn’t feeling well, I did it myself. Which I actually think gave me an advantage over some of the other teams. No arguing. It’s my way, or my way. I was wearing some shorts that were a little big for me, and in one of the challenges, I got in the pool. So now I’m walking/running around the resort looking for clues in a wet pair of shorts that keep threatening to fall off. Not attractive at all. But I was a man on a mission. One of the clues was about American Idol. So I made my way to the theater and there was Paula (our comedienne extraordinaire), Randy (our singer/piano player), and Simon (one of the guests). You had to reach into a hat to pull out a music genre and then you had to sing. What did I pull? Hip Hop. Are you frikken kidding me? I just blank. I go up on stage and I’ve got nothing. Nothing. And then I think of a rap song and I just start singing, badly: “Um, I’m slim shady and I’m the real slim shady and I’m slim shady, and I’m slim shady. I’m the real slim shady, I’m slim shady and you’re, no, I’m the real slim shady.” The look of horror on the judges faces stopped me in my tracks. “Just two lines,” they said. “You only have to sing two lines.” And I’m like, “It’s this or Ice, Ice Baby and I don’t know any words to that either.” I have never felt so white. Or so sad. They finally took pity on me and gave me the next clue. I ended up coming in second in the first part of the game and went on to the final round. The first part of the final round included putting the following in order of power: king, duke, baron, prince, viscount, earl, and marquis. Finally, being a fantasy fag paid off. All of those fantasy books are going to help me win. And I was the second person out of that round. But I lost ground on a challenge where 
I had to dig on the beach for treasure and then lost the grand prize, which was a cabin for two on their
Friday was pretty much a down day. I was really red at this point and my skin just felt on fire. Greek boy and I pretty much stayed on the beach under one of the canopy things and read our books, etc. It was very relaxing after the busy day we had before. They held the best tan line competition and a couple of the guys were really dark. I was so envious. I’ve just got bad genes. One of the guys was a huge muscle guy and while his tan line was only okay, his 
ass was like a rock. Note to self. Start diet tomorrow. And lunges, squats, and everything else! After that, they had a sarong tying demonstration so we would all be prepared for the tropical beach tea dance that afternoon. Now, I’m not usually a sarong wearer. For people like me, it’s not sarong, it’s so wrong. But, with the proper lighting, posture, and semi-tan, I can actually look like a hottie. The tea dance was good and again the DJ played some great music include a dance remix of James Blunt’s “You’re Beautiful.” Must find that. The evening’s entertainment was from a comedian who’s name I won’t share. I went into the show in a good mood. It had been a great week, and I was feeling good and looking forward to a little comedy. And a little comedy is what I got. I’m not sure if the guy was nervous, or drunk, but he just wasn’t funny. Costco jokes. Yawn. And then he started to get rude. And racists. And we were sitting there laughing at how awful the show was. He started to get some hecklers and he was like, “F&ck you, this routine got me a home in Bel Air.” Umm, okay. I’m thinking not more than 10 minutes into the routine, people started to leave. Including us. We got outside to the courtyard and just couldn’t believe how bad he had been. And as people continued to stream out, everyone said the same thing, “I can’t believe what he’s saying and how bad he was.” Anyways, it was a so-so end to a great week. I understand that there was some after hour fun at the pool that night, but I walked along the beach for a bit by myself under the moonlight sky and then called it a night.
The trip back to DC was long and painful. After clearing customs in
posted by Trey @ 9:11 PM
1 Comments:
Shush. You're hot, and you are young.
Now you have made me make up my mind about doing an Atlantis... definitely plan on it now. Take care.
Post a Comment
<< Home