Dreams Dominican Republic Cabeza de Toro

For the first time in about 14 years, I took a real vacation. By real vacation, I mean lay on a beach chair and sip fruity drinks out of a coconut all day. I was a side guest at the Dinolis-Hendricks wedding at Dreams Punta Cana Resort. Ritza invited me because I'd asked her about her next trip to Panama. Kooky, I know. A person inquires about a trip to Panama; gets invited to the Dominican Republic. But I hadn't been on vacation for quite some time, 14 years to be exact, and I decided to go.

Ritza wanted to stay at the resort an extra day so she wouldn't have to rush. I wanted to stay longer, too. (In all actuality, I could have stayed until Thursday.) I asked her about sharing the cost of the room for an extra day. She agreed. Unfortunately, this discussion took place via BBM and there is no hard and fast record of it. When the time came to get the room for the extra day, she decided to place her belongings into her mother's room, stay there for the night, curse me out, tell me how poor of a choice travel buddy I was, and walk off and leave me in the lurch repeatedly throughout the day.

In the end, I wound up staying in a queen suite alone for $91.00. The peace and quiet was worth it. And overall, I had a fantastic time on the trip. It was a totally relaxing, lay-on-the-beach-all-day, drink-all-inclusive-drinks-till-you're-silly, eat-seafood-buffets-every-time-you-turn-around, experience that has re-ignited my long dormant wanderlust in a mighty way.

This post is a sharply abbreviated version of what actually happened. And there are two sides to every story. But this is mine.

So I went to Dewey Beach, DE for Labor Day Weekend...

UN---be---lieveable. I cannot believe what whorish drunken mayhem goes on down there. Ugh. I wish I had stopped drinking long before this trip. I stopped Sunday. Forever. I think. I went down there and everyf'in body has to comment on my clothes. What did you expect me to look like? A runaway slave? I just do not care for the ratty t-shirt and torn off faded dirty jeans look, thank you. Dang! I need peace. I need my white house black market sunglasses back. This puny penis punjabi Pakistani pachyderm basically stole them from me. Fat bastard. I hate him.

A Lotta Nerve...A Lotta Lotta Nerve (1)

Today, I had lunch with the 43-yo twice divorced father of three from Wilmington, North Carolina. I had actually already eaten. Well, I had been grazing all day. But when this man, who is paying child support on a set of twin 5-year-olds, texted with the lunch inquiry, I agreed to go for company. He walked me all the way to 13th & G in the rain. When he found out I had leftovers (roast turkey, crescent roll, greens, mashed potatoes, and a hunk of rum cake) from Christmas dinner, he said "you should have asked me to come to your desk for lunch." I said "oh, I didn't bring enough for two." He quickly remarked "oh that would have been ok, you could have just kept me company while I ate." Unbelieveable. When we got to the pizza joint, he asked me if he could borrow a dollar. I told him no! Unbelieveable. Then, during the lunch, we discussed new years eve plans. When I told him about a past NYE when I went out with a big group of single girlfriends and how depressing that was, he had the goddam nerve to ask me "well why aren't you married." WTF?!?!?!?!?! I don't get it. I don't understand. I should have said what was really on my mind which was "because I don't want to get some asshole like you." But no, I said why arent you married? He says "well I was". He is such a dumb ass and such a person who likes to "argue" (yet does it poorly with very flawed arguments) that he didn't even realize he wasn't answering the question. Why aren't you married? is the question. Ugh. I really hate when people ask that question. It is really irritating. Then he had the goddam nerve to try to turn the conversation to sex on the walk back to the office. What a jerk. Unbelieveable.