Posts (page 2)

Sort of.  There wasn't much Olympic-ing going on, it was more about, you know, drinking.  That was certainly okay, though I would have liked to have played a few more games (if only to distinguish my PCS party from the rest of the Coral Sands parties).  But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I had to get a vehicle, so that morning I woke up as early as I could possibly manage to, which was about seven thirty.  I tried to get up at six to do the whole reservation thing, but, of course, was too hung over.  I was still looking (and feeling) like the back end of a moose when I arrived at the motor pool, rubbing sleep boogers from my blurry eyes.  Since I'm a total slacker, there were only step vans left, so I promptly rented one and went back to my room to sleep.  When I woke up a couple hours later, I had to work!  A lot.  Carrying back and forth, running in and out, and driving a huge beheamoth of a vehicle; it was a sweaty, frustrating morning.  Finally everything was ready, though; all my fields were set up, the beer was frosty, and I was more than ready to tap into it!

Luckily for my fragile psyche, people started showing up pretty close to the appointed starting time.  If they don't do that, I start to hyperventilate and go into a tailspin about how nobody is going to show and I'm clearly the most unpopular girl in the world.  It's a situation best avoided, really.  Soooo, not only did people start showing up, but some of the kids helped me finish filling the water balloons for dodgeball, along with various other last minute tasks.  It was nice to have some company, frankly.  It's funny, I would have thought that an instant and rowdy start would have been something to be preferred, but I loved just sitting around and spending time with everyone who was there early.  It was a good way to ease into things. 

People kept trickling in as the Mother's Day festivities came to a close, DJ P had started to crank some killer music, and suddenly, it was a party!  I was trying to push for a game of wiffle ball, but as with all my previous tries, it was a dismal failure.  I can't say that I wasn't having a good time, though, everyone was laughing and drinking and not going in the water at all.  You know, pretty typical stuff.  I thought all my preparations were going to be in vain and that we weren't going to play any games a'tall when the boatshacks crew came through for me.  I don't know what alchemy they used to get people out on the kickball field, but clearly, I am not blessed. with it.  Who cares, though?  I was just glad to be following along with the original plan for the day, no matter how nominally.

It was fucking great, too.  We randomly divided up into teams and dove right in.  It was fathers against their children, kids against adults, cats and dogs, living together - mass hysteria!  And, of course, since Mouth was playing, it was as cuthroat as a game can be when one of the rules involves holding a beer in one hand.  People were getting pegged in the ass, kicking homeruns, and tripping over flip flops, uhh, I mean bases.  I don't remember who won, but I do remember a lot of yelling, a lot of laughing and a lot of shenanigans.  It was, by far, my favorite part of the day.

Not that some other fantastic things didn't happen, too.  The massive water balloon fight, in particular, stands out in my mind.  Alas, the pre-filled balloons never got to be used for dodgeball; we were too busy coshing each over the head with them.  It's impossible to describe somthing as chaotic as a water balloon fight, but suffice to say that we were all soaking wet and beyond breathless when it was all over; not one single balloon survived the purge, including the ones I had stuffed down my dress.  And yes, Stanimal finaly got his (though I think he just felt bad for Mouth).  After that we decided to calm things down and light the palettes off with 1800 tequila.  Yes, criminal, I know, but it was the only thing we had since I hadn't planned on a fire.  The palatte fairy very kindly left us fodder for the fire, but forgot to leave us somthing to set it off with.  Ahh, well.

By the time all the wood had burnt to cinders, it was pretty late, so people were starting the long and dark ride home from our remote location.  Me, I still had the step van, so I was spared all that.  Ceeby-ceeb and I piled as many bikes as possible into the back and drove (rather wildly, it must be admitted) to the shacks for a couple more drinks.  None of the Community Activities stuff got taken back, but then again, I hadn't signed it out, either.  I hope it's getting good use, wherever it ended up. I woke up the next day with absolutely no hangover, which was more than I deserved.

My PCS party didn't turn out exactly the way I planned, but in the end, it was just what I needed it to be.  It was a fitting farewell to the four year party that encompassed my life on Kwaj.  The important parts, anyway.

By the time that Wednesday rolled around, I was ready to go.  Though I'd had a wonderful time both with my friends and the island itself, everything I had wanted to see had been seen.  Sometimes twice.  I felt a burning desire to get back to Kwaj and savor the very last days I was ever going to spend there (in the foreseeable future).  We got our stuff up to the lobby and settled in to do some accounting.  Our bills were all jumbly, so we had to do a lot of sorting before we could all pay and check out.  Leaving aside the minor inconveniences that always pop up the day of a departure from anywhere, gaaaah, we all jumped into the van and headed to the airport.

Check-in was a breeze; soon after we arrived we were sitting in the waiting room and playing a game of hand and foot.  BWSBM and JS both noticed that it was absolutely teeming outside.  It was monsoon worthy rain, truly.  Comments were being thrown around about J's plane flying over Kwaj for a similar reason, but I was blissfully concentrating on my awesome hand and so the information didn't sink into my brain.  I was still in a state of ignorance when an innocent looking woman came into the room and got our attention.  I thought she was going to tell us it was time to board - never mind that there was no plane on the runway.  I think my subconscious had already cottoned on to the situation and was trying to protect me for as long as it could.  After she had gotten our full attention, she then proceeded to shatter my world when she told us that inclement weather had caused the plane to skip right over the island and merrily continue on to its next destination.  Everything immediately snapped into a dream sequence for me.  I was led out of the departure lounge like a stunned lamb.  You know those moments that are so mind bogglingly horrible that it feels like (or you hope) you're dreaming?  Yeah, that was what it was like.  It proved to be the calm before the storm, though, because by the time we were back in line to book onto the next flight two days hence, I was a jibbering, slobbering, sobbing wreck.  I think I was temporarily demented.  Tornados of thought were whirling around in my head and destroying eveything in their path.  It went something like this, "Ohmygod, ohmygod!!!  The next flight is in two days!!  Ohmygod, that means that I'll only have two days left on Kwaj, and I haven't finished ANYTHING!!  Ohgod, ohgod.  No time to pack, no time to rest, to spend time wandering the island, no time to plan the PCS party properly, or...or anything, anything!!!  This is the worst day of my life!!"   This string of thought would then repeat multiple times with more hysteria, faster and faster.  Someone should have slapped me.

Through no doing of mine, we soon had tickets on the Friday flight and a room at the Village until we left.  Again.  It's a good thing that V and JS were there, because I was completely incapable of rational thought, and even the smallest decision was utterly beyond me.  Back into the van we got; everyone was chattering brightly while politely trying to ignore my not so private nervous breakdown.  Swear to god, every cheerful quip slid right into my heart and twisted mercilessly.  I can laugh about it now, but at the time I was legitimately traumatized.  Think about it.  You're moving your entire life across oceans and continents in a matter of days.  That's bad enough.  But now something has gone drastically wrong, you're stuck in another place, and your tight but doable schedule has been shot to fucking hell.  A rising stress level doesn't even begin to cover it.  Perhaps I shouldn't have gone away on vacation so close to my PCS date.  Just a thought.

Anyway, I wasn't the only one affected by the changed plans.  The couple who had gone to Nan Madol with us were so pissed that they left their suitcases at the airport and got a ride to some fleabag hotel, no doubt to sulk in their crappy room until they left Pohnpei.  What else could you do if you didn't have a change of clothes?!?  Weird.  Then there was D and JE, who were out money for a prebooked room on Kosrae, and even worse, J was in danger of missing his pig hunt!  It was a bad situation all around.  I was so exhausted from my emotional upheaval by the time we got back "home," that I had to take a nap.  It was my only escape.

I woke up considerably calmer, just in time for V to come and get me for dinner.  Funnily enough, that dinner with the girls and our fellow Kwaj folks, D and JE, was one of the nicest in the whole vacation.  The food was wonderful, as usual, and we finally got our coconut drinks after five days of trying.  It was one of those nights when everyone is telling story after story and everything is hilarious.  It was still an early night for me, though.  The combination of the day's events and the most uncomfortable chairs on the planet defeated me.  Everyone else stayed up until the wee smas and had a grand old night.  I regret missing it, but I was simply done in.  Bed had never looked so inviting as it did that night. 

As for the extra day and a half, it was fun.  For a description of it, see all the other days of the trip.  You know, shop a little, get a pedi, play some hand and foot, drink some sakau.  The usual.  I'm not meaning to belittle the extra time we spent on Pohnpei; I did have a good time.  The stress of everything looming in front of me just wouldn't go away, though, and I was the happiest girl in the world when our plane landed and subsequently took off with us in it.

When I finally got home I could have kissed the pavement.  Pohnpei was a fab trip, make no mistake, but my planning could have been a little better, I think. 

Surprisingly, I woke up from our orgy of booze and music feeling pretty chipper.  I read for a little while and just reveled in the incredible peace that exuded from the view out of our bungalow windows.  After V woke up we got ready to head up to the main part of the hotel so we could chow down on some tuna omelets.  (And for you non-Kwaj people, no, that's not a sordid sexual reference.  It's a real breakfast dish.)  It's sounds like it would be nasty, right?  I know I thought so before I tasted one.  But, yeah, no.    It's fucking delicious.  Picture an ahi swimming in the lagoon, and then - BAM -straight to the plate two hours later via a local fisherman's hook.  Best of all, people bring it to you!  Uh-huh, you know, like real waiters and waitresses.  It was an experience that was satisfying both to my taste-buds and my restaurant deprived mind.

Anyway, after breakfast we decided to head to the wood carving village to get some souvenirs.  Now, in my head I had pictured this place with cute, little thatched huts nestled all in a circle.  In those imaginary huts squatted wizened old men wearing lava lavas and tink, tink, tinking away on roughly hewn sea creatures.  As with most things, the reality was far different.  The combination of huts and modern houses with various stores tucked in between was both more and less affecting than than my preconceived notion of what I would find there.  Less so because, well, it looked just like any other Pohnpei neighborhood.  I wanted something picturesque that I could take pretty-pretty pictures of and never think about again.  What I got was better.  Silent children peeped curiously out at us from shadowy doorways, smiles blooming in response to ours.  Women chatted in groups, gossiping and laughing with each other as they watched us walk past.  And, yes, there finally was an area where men were carving out wooden animals and women were weaving mats and baskets while the kids answered cell phones.  It was the juxtaposition of the modern world alongside traditional pursuits that made the whole trip so fascinating.  I loved the complexity of it all.

While that's all well and good, it would be remiss of me not to mention some of the other things that happened while we sauntered along the street.  We saw numerous naked babies wearing flip flops, which of course made us squee and take some pics.  There was also an adorable, teeny pig tied to a stoop; whether it was a pet or dinner, I never did find out. Pigs seemed to abound; though we only saw that one, I did spot a "Pig for Sale" sign which absolutely had to be documented in a photo.  Promptly after I did this, BWSBM said to me, "Do you want me to take your picture with the sign??"  Ummm, no.  Let's seeeee, should I go and stand under a "Pig for Sale" sign and record it for all posterity?  I'm thinking NO.  Jeeze, I have enough issues with my body image without doing something like that!  It's nice that that angle didn't occur to BWSBM, though - too funny.  V was ultimately unsuccessful in her shopping, and we moved on to greener pastures, aka the ACE Hardware where we pelted up and down the isles with shrieks of glee.  We were scooping up large handfuls of junk and waving them around over our heads while yelling, "Look what they have!!  A picture frame made out of rock!"  We managed to escape without buying too much, though, and we got some cards to occupy us during the post dinner drinking times. 

After a stop at the hotel for showers and such, we went back to the sushi restaurant with better results.  It was open this time.  I was actually feeling kind of rotten by this point, so a quiet dinner and a movie were sounding pretty good to me.  The other girls waded through their courses while I toyed listlessly with my food.  It was a relief to go and sit in a semi air-conditioned building.  When we got to the theater to see Leatherheads, we ran the gauntlet of teenage boys parked at the entrance and got our tix.  The popcorn wasn't even made; the guys behind the counter brought it in to us in the theater.  As with the popcorn, the air conditioning was delayed and only kicked in during the previews.  I guess they weren't expecting anyone.  I thought that the movie proved unremarkable, but that opinion could have been the result of the fact that I felt like I was going to keel over and die at any minute.  Once we got back to the hotel, I pretty much crashed immdiately while the girls played hand and foot all night with our newly bought cards.

The next day was the Nan Madol trip, and though I was feeling better, poor JS was feeling a lot worse.  How she roused herself sufficiently to go on an all day tour, I'll never know.  Once everyone was all together, we hiked down to the water and hopped into a boat.  As things fell out, we were on the trip with an older couple, some dude who never talked, and our guides, Billy and Jimmy.  We set out, skimming over the water; it reminded me a lot of the beginning of a Bigej trip, except this time, we were headed for manta rays, not insobriety.  When we reached the place where the mantas were, we donned our yucky borrowed masks and jumped right in.  There weren't tons of mantas - only two or three - but the ones that we saw were fantastical enough.  I think higher numbers would have blown circuits in my brain.   Too much of the pretty, boom!  V thought that the manta rays almost seemed as if they were showing off to her, Like, "Yes, yes, look at my left fin...majestic, no?  Oh, and here's the onther one, mmm.  Mesmerising, I know."  The funny thing is that it really did seem that way.  They swooped and glided below us, both gigantic and immesurably graceful.  I could have stayed suspended in that blue water forever.  Definitely my favorite part of the day.  It felt like we were only there for minutes before we were off to our next destination, the waterfall.

Unfortunately, a couple of days before, V and I had managed to visit the only waterfall featured on the Nan Madol trip, but luckily, this visit proved totally different from the first.  Everyone was together, and the ground (being dry this time) was much more negotiable.   Another slight difference was that this time one of the tourists was an elderly man wearing a speedo and climbing over rocks.  That a picture that's going to linger, my friends.  Ahem, moving on...  Also, since there hadn't been much rain that day, the falls themselves were a lot less roaringly strong, and a little side waterfall had practically dried up.  JS and I leapt into the pool and stayed there as long as possible.  Everyone else just took a dip and got out promptly.  Not I; I figured that if my first venture into the pond hadn't given me some lethal parasite, then another one would be just fine.  Good thing I didn't know about the eels.  Regardless, it was as awe inspiring the second time as it had been the first. 

We pressed on to the beach and lunch; bento (rice, eggs, and chorizo wrapped in a banana leaf)  for all of us but the sickey, who had an apple.  Then finally, finally, finally, we pulled up to the ruins of Nan Madol.  Our guides told us the mysterious story of the ruins and the hundreds of small islands that surrounded it.  We climbed over and around and through the remnants of a people long vanished from that place, and it was so quiet and eerie that it can still give me chills thinking about it.  We got done with our explorations and moved to the last part of the tour, kayaking.  I had been looking forward to this part of the day ever since I heard about it, but unfortunately it proved to be my least favorite part of the day.  I'm not going to get into it, although I do have to say that the sting rays on the ocean side of the paddle were worth seeing.  Other than that, no thanks to sea kayaking; apparently it's not really my thang.  Do you know what is?  Going out seeing and doing amazing stuff with three of my closest friends; it was a very good day.

We spent what we thought would be our last night on Pohnpei playing cards, drinking sakau, drinking a lot - period, and laughing.  Oh, if only we'd known the shit storm that was about to rain down upon us, I daresay we would have spent that night differently.  At least I would have.  It was perfect as it was, though, our ignorance saving us a lot of stress.

At what seemed ungodly early o'clock my hotel phone sounded a clanging alarm.  I woke from a perfectly lovely passed out state and had to actually converse with other humans.  It turned out to be SH and TH, arguably some of the best next door neighbors to have, and also great people in every other respect.  SH was worried sick about me, having been told the night before that I was most assuredly not checked in at one Oceanview hotel.  I think she had visions of me sleeping along the roadside in a foreign country, but happily for both she and I, this was not the case.  The worst that had happened to me was having to wake up at ten thirty in the morning and check out.  Naturally, I was a bit hungover.  After I hastily packed and made myself presentable, I shambled down the stairs to pay and head out on an island tour.  I must have looked rough -  even the guy working reception knew what was up, saying to me, "You got in late, huh?  Three in the morning.  Good fun, HEH!"  

I then proceeded to split without paying, since the credit card machine wasn't working; I could stop back by, yes?  My word was enough for them.  Chumps!!  (No, I'm kidding of course - I later stopped back in and paid - though temptation struck brutally to just "save some money" and skip it.  I am not a good person; I keep telling people that.)  N-E ways!  S, T and I set of to drive around the island.   I was just glad to be slumped somewhere air conditioned  where my brain didn't really have to work.  The whole road trip was a complete riot, totally awesome.  I mostly guzzled water desperately and laughed.  And groaned.  I saw some cannily engineered houses, as well as a pool table under what seemed like every other canopy.  People tended to walk unconcernedly along the road while vehicles vroomed wildly by and around them at mach one.  Green, green everywhere, just like home.  So humid, just like home.  The ride ended pleasantly at my new hotel, The Village, with lunch and some more badly needed hydration.  Bliss!

The girls arrived at the appointed time with a highly dramatic story of ticket problems and deadlines barely met.  Shocking, Continental!  Not.  We sat in the pavillion and drank a few and relaxed.  Totally gorgeous view, my word.  I felt like such a lucky girl at that moment.  The walk to the room proved to be a hike, but the bungalow was simple and beautiful with yet another astonishing panorama.  We got ready for dinner and had our taxi to drop us off at the sushi place.  Surprise - Saturday is the only day of the week it's closed!  Our taxi had already left, and we were stranded.  Middle of freaking nowhere.  Thank the saints that the guy who had given us the bad news then graciously gave us a ride to town.  The people on this island just couldn't be nicer.  He was cute, too, and it's a shame we didn't see him out that night.  We ended up in a tasty Chinese buffet, and it was pretty clear that V, BWSBM, and my bad girl in training (also my mentor), J, were fading fast.  We attempted to go to the Rusty Anchor again, but, alas, it proved to be the same as last time.  A tired group of girls returned to the hotel and all passed out pretty much immediately; I personally think that caffine had been hiding my own fatigue from me until I hit the bed.

J and BWSBM went diving that next morning while V and I slept hard.  We both needed it, though my exhaustion was ill gotten while hers was because of work.  When we lazybones got up we ate a late lunch and set out (again, for me) in a rented car to see the island and this time, the waterfall.  What can be said about the waterfall?  It was unbelievably powerful and just like somthing out of a movie.  I marvelled at the sheer spectacle of it; nature in all its glory.  It was in someone's backyard, which is a hell of a lot better than mine ever was when I was growing up.   

V and I were a smidge late getting back to hotel, and while we were getting ready, the divers got a little wild with the drinks menu.  They were very rosy cheeked by the time we were all sitting down together to eat yum-a-licious mangrove crab plus appetizers and drinks aplenty.  Wonder of wonders, we were in a real restaurant where waiters brought us stuff to eat and drink!  I think we were all little giddy about that.  The bananas foster show (and dessert) was excellent and every bit as good as the hype, and the company left nothing to be desired.  Dinner was superb, and afterwards we adjourned to room five for some card playing and shit-talking, remembered, for a change, by me!  Of course, we had hit town that afternoon to procure a vacation bucket (its real name, with a picture and lettering on the inside bottom) and some booze, with mixers.  After party, hey!  We put a serious dent in the vodka.  J and BWSBM left, then V and I sat and talked while we listened to eighties tunes. 

It was a pretty great evening and a relaxing two days.  I love vacation and my friends.  Le heureux sigh.

When I got to Pohnpei, I confess, I was surprised.  I'm not quite sure what I was expecting, but what I got was not it.  I think that in the back of my head I was thinking that it was going to be like Hawaii, which is not the case at all.  Instead it's kind of a weird combination of Ebeye and Hawaii.  I mean, there's nice hotels and some shopping, but there's also tin huts and naked babies.  It makes for a very interesting experience.

I got there on May first, two days before the rest of the girls were going to arrive.  Thanks to Continental's complete disregard of that thing called "customer service," when my tickets had gotten screwed up, I couldn't change them without incurring huge fines.  Okay, I thought, no problem.  I'll just go early and have a blast by myself.  Which I sort of did.  It's not an island that lends itself to solo fun, though.  The first day was mostly spent with me whining internally and going down to the Oceanview hotel bar for a drink.  I actually only had one drink, which tells you how dull it was.  My second day was spent in much the same manner as the first, except that with cab driver assistance, my mood was much improved.  As evening fell, I decided to get all decked out and head down to the Rusty Anchor, the bar on-island known to be frequented by Australian and American expats.  And, oh, that is how the adventure began.

Thinking to walk down to the bar via the scary, dark road, I was immediately dissuaded when a drunken local leered at me and started to weave his way to where I was standing.  I quickly turned and hustled my bustle back up to the hotel bar and got a drink.  Happily it was a lot more lively that night, and I had a good old time talking to a bunch of complete randos.  One British guy offred to walk down the unlit hill with me, so off we went.  When we got to the bar it was dead, crickets chirping.  Not to be discouraged, we ordered a beer and proceeded to pick up another straggler, an Aussie.  Realizing that nothing interesting was going to happen at the Rusty Anchor - ever - the three of us summaritly trotted back up the hill to the Ocean View.  To sing karaoke.  Badly.  I've heard some awful karaoke in my time, but until you've been exposed to islanders singing Michael Bolton and Maddona, you haven't even come close to scraping the bottom of the barrel.  I think that "screechy" would be the most kind way to describe it.  I was getting a little late by this time, and the bar was getting ready to close.  Not being done for the night, I accepted happily when yet another stranger suggested that we go to yet another bar.  I hopped in his car, giving him tacit permission to rape and murder me (luckily he didn't - whew), and we drove about fifty yards to The Flamingo.

This is where all the people were - I had finally found them.  Most of the island was there, including one of the waitstaff from the Oceanview, whom I immediately adopted as my new best friend.  I made a lot of new best friends that night, and they all wanted to dance with me.  I guess white meat is a rare and coveted delicacy in some parts.  We proceeded to have a great, grand time dancing and drinking and posing for drunken pictures.  While we were sitting out in some dude's car (one of my new friends), the driver suddenly announced that he had to take his friends home and then he could give me a ride home.  Instead of getting out, like a sensible person would do, I belted myself in and prepared to ride along, even though three seconds before that I'd had no notion of leaving the bar.  Honest to goodness, sometimes I think that sheer recklessness gets me through life unscathed.  This person driving was A. probably shitfaced, B. a complete stranger to me, and C. backed up by three large dudes who he was also giving a ride to in addition to the foolhardy and bombed Americana in the front seat.  Once again, through no street savvy of my own, I made it back to the hotel unharmed after driving over what seemed like half the island just to get to a place right up the hill.

You know what, though?  Despite the brazen risks I took with my own sefety, I have never met a more polite, giving or fun group of people.  They treated me like gold.  Of course, the driver asked if he could come up to my room when we got back to the Oceanview, but was cool when I declined - politely.  It was, all and all, a blast. 

So, I finally feel somthing like fully human again.  I'm still tired, and still have about a million things to do, but better would be an accurate way to describe how I'm feeling.  I've still got a lot of entries to catch up on, and, well there are some that I should write about that I'm just not going to get to.  P-funk's birthday party is something that should definitely get chronicled, gastrointestinal pyrotechnics aside, but it's just gotten lost in the shuffle.  Give me a mental slap for being a bad blogger, but I just can't keep up right now.  Look for the Pohnpei entry next...

I should be writing about Pohnpei now, or even the hundred things that happened before I left.  Wow, I have so much to write about, and I know that things are going to get missed, but right now I am completely emotionally drained.  Drained by planes that fly right over islands that they're supposed to land on, by fucked up systems that don't let you easily change your plans, by friends who take off the cuff remarks too seriously, by preparing for huge parties all alone because the people who would ordinarily help you are all busy tomorrow.

People keep asking me if I'm excited to leave.  NO!  I'm not!  Are you ever excited to move all of your possessions from one side of the world to the other, with all that entails?  I bet you aren't.  How can I be excited when the sheer logistics of this move are burying me under a weight so heavy that I almost can't breathe?  I can't look past tomorrow, let alone a time when I'll fly away for permanent.  For reals.  The good news is that after having a heart attack all over island today (and almost giving my boss one), my plans finally got switched.  I'm here for another couple of days, until Friday.  I think I'll use those extra days to finish my chores, say farewells to my friends, and to say a proper goodbye to this, my beloved island.  I look on them as a gift.  The blogging will have to wait until later.  Much later, when I've regained some perspective on my life.

Camping!  On Bigej!  Tropical Camping!  It turned out to be much like...regular camping.  I used to rag on my mom and dad about getting a trailer; told them it wasn't a real camping experience unless it involed a tent, and that hot and cold running water was cheating.  I still stand by that, and they still don't care.  Now, camping on Bigej was what I call true camping; primitive, take a shovel with you, no amenities camping.  In other words, it was pure awesome and a half.

We motored out of the harbor on Saturday evening, after a very rainy day, relieved to see that it was clearing up; otherwise we would've had to set up camp in the rain, which would have been miserable.  Try it sometime if you want to experience the eighth level of hell, trust me.  Anyway, I was just starting to relax and enjoy the boat trip up there when we arrived and everyone had to toil like slaves to get all the provisions and equipment from the boats to the shore.  Don't get me wrong, I was more than glad to do my share of the work, but my flip flops were ill suited to the task at hand.  As I climbed repeatedly up underwater pebble hills with waves sucking at my ankles, I had visions of  plunging face first into the water with someone's irreplaceable dry goods clenched firmly in my arms.  Luckily, though, disaster did not strike, and all things that were supposed to stay above sea level did.  After that was done, then we had to set up camp.  Though, to be fair, that was soon finished, and we got down to the real business of cooking food and drinking some brews (and booze).

Man, what can be said about a night out in the open?  The food was magnificent, the company congenial, the Catchphrase hilarious, and the weather perfect.  As the night progressed, the T-ster dove fairly heavily into a bottle of rum, while P-funk had his share of the Captain, and the rest of us piled up an impressive stack of beer cans under the folding table.  So many funny things happened that night that I couldn't begin to recount them all, but several memorable incidents spring to mind.  While playing Catchprase, the regulation jokes about "your mom" were being slung around with abandon.  Although they had died down after a while, the topper came when Ry blurted out, "Where the cat pisses," and SJ yelled, "Your mom!"  Well, Ry was so absolutely appalled by this that he stopped the game and insisted that the remark was "uncalled for," much to the rest of the campers' delight.  Meanwhile, T-ster was getting worse and worse in his clues and pointing accusingly at P-funk with incresing frequency and shouting, "SUPERDOUCHE!!"  The funny part of that is that I don't think that P-funk was even doing anything that terribly douchy, but that's just me.  We stayed up until all hours of the night and sat on the beach before passing out in our tents.  With the full moon out and friends all around, grand doesn't even begin to cover it. 

The next day it rained.  A lot.  All day.  T-ster got the black plague, Ry pussed out and went home with P-funk and everyone else drank all day long.  We shot the potato gun and hunted for rats, and hung out in our raincoats and drank.  After the bottle of rum got passed around, I had to take a little nap, and by the time I emerged from my tent, it had finally stopped raining - at dusk.  And the was much rejoicing.  Yay.  Still, much good, great times were had, TS took over the superdouche spot, and Catchphrase was again all that it always is.  Still, all that drinking began to take it's toll on people, and soon we were just a few left of many.  We dragged our chairs down to the beach, where it was so bright that we had moon shadows.  DG thought this quite the thing and decided to rock out, shadow style.  For some reason, JH took exception to this and came with the shadow pain to interrupt the party.  When DG shied away to protect his shadow and protested, JH decided that enough was enough, and it was time to get down to business.  While making chomping motions with her hands, she screeched, "My shadow will FUCK YOUR SHADOW in the ASS!!!"  So, um, watch your shadow's butt from now on, you wouldn't want it to get shadow raped.  And while this was happeneing, TS was noticing that the gooze that was coating the radio was burning his legs slightly.  And then suddenly, a lot less slightly.  He hopped up and rinsed off, only to discover that it had burnt the hair off both of his knees, which according to him, sucked big time.  I guess weeping battery acid just isn't quite the thing, even if it is a hell of a depilitator.  Things went downhill rapidly from there, and we ended the night soon after.

On day the last we woke up to bright, beautiful sun!  Now it was tropical camping!  T-ster, Stanimal and I went wakeboarding, (well, I watched, they wakeboarded) and the water was super flat and glassy.  I'm always so impressed by people who can waterski, etc., since I have absolutely no talent in that direction.  Honestly, the boys did some pretty cool stunts, and I don't think that there's anything Stanimal can't do.  After we got done doing that, everyone kind of broke away to do their own things.  For me it was beach combing and soaking in the beauty of the island for the last time.  (God, the last time, it breaks my heart to think about it.)  For others it was diving and fishing.  When everyone got back to the campsite, we figured it would be prudent to lighten our load a little and proceeded to float and polish off every bit of alcohol left in the coolers.  Only after we had exhausted every intoxicating avenue did we pack up and head for home.

Nothing daunted, we continued the party at the shacks for much longer than we should have on a school night.  How can you let the good times go, though?  It was well worth the hangover at work the next day.  All told, it was a fantastic first and last camping trip to Bigej.  Thanks, guys.

Who knew this much stress existed in the world??  My pack out is two days away, my tix to Pohnpei are totally screwed and I still have to plan my PCS party.  'Scuse me while I go inject heroin into my eyeballs now.

Sidenote: camping post to come later, after I've emerged from my opiate coma.

Whew, I don't even know where to start properly.  This weekend was the first in a long line of jam packed weekends to come.  I guess things kicked off with bunco on Saturday night. 

Of course, I spent most of the day running around and getting things ready, all while being totally stressed out.  I don't know why hosting parties affects me that way, but the moment I'm in charge I loose all of my normal good sense and start to resemble someone who has recently been electrocuted rather badly.  Shaking, stammering and uncrontrolable anxiety are fairly common for me.  Le sigh.  Once the party starts, though, I'm fine, and as back to as normal as I get (which isn't very).  So it went this time, too.  Things went off without a hitch, and quickly degenerated into our usual round of yelling and carrying on.  I never thought that bunco could be so fun.  To me it seemed a dowager's game; one best left to our mothers and grandmothers.  Well, I don't know if they do things differently, but we shriek and give each other the evil eye and glory in friends' downfalls, and, oh, yeah - drink a lotta hooch.  I've never seen such a group of girls who can laugh at your defeats one minute and be warm and caring the next.  Things got progressively livelier as we dipped into the second pitcher of beer margaritas, up to and including an impromtu recitation from some random nautical novel.  That, for me, was the best part of the entire evening.  While the narrator gestured and acted out bits of the text, the rest of us stood around choking and wheezing with uncontrollable laughter; it was fan-freaking-tastic.  The night wound down after that, but it was no less fun sitting on a friend's porch and laughing until we couldn't breathe (at fart stories, very mature of us) than it had been to laugh at the ARC.  One of the many reasons I love this place; you have fun everywhere you go!

Luckily I felt awwwright the next morning for the video baby shower, and a mimosa catapulted me from just okay to okey dokey!  I hadn't intended to go, but I was so, so glad that I went against my first instincts once I was there.  There were all kinds of babies there to cuddle with and friends to smoke ciggys and groan about our headaches with; it was an utterly perfect morning.  It's funny, every time I'm over at the Ls' house, I find myself thinking that it's the way things should always be.  You know, organized chaos.  And I'm not being sarcastic; it's a very well rounded and sweet world.  Super comfy, too, with all my nearest and dearest in attendance.  It was an excellent way to start a whole day and night of drinking!

Which commenced immediately upon V's and my arrival at the beach.  It was a pretty pathetic arrival, too, since we were woefully unprepared for what we found there: absolutely no party at all.  Because we were expecting things to be hopping, we hadn't brought coolers or tunes or anything, really.  So instead of getting crazy we chilled out and baked ourselves in the sun.  I also managed to suck down most of a pitcher of beer margies before anyone arrived, while v made some inroad on her beer.  Around five-ish the boys FINALLY showed up, along with most of the other party guests.  It was a typical beach party, meaning nobody went in the water, most people sat around and chatted while boys were drawn helplessly to the grill to watch meat cook and ponder the meaning of the universe.  What is the facination, incidentally?  Is it the fire?  The seared flesh?  The billowing smoke?  I suspect that, having no Y chromosome, I will never understand. 

Right as things were really getting good, though, V and I had to leave to make a cameo at the Vet's Hall private party.  Boy, was that a snoozer!  I mean, at least it forced us to go home and shower for the night's activities, but, yawn!  It could have been that at this point I had had just enough alcohol to be sleepy, or it could have been the length of our stay there was insufficient to see the awesomeness of it all, but V and I hied ourselves back to Camp Hamilton with the quickness.  In the time that we had been gone from the party it had gone from fledgling to full grown.  Everything at the beach was brighter and funnier, the conversations more animated and the jokes more amusing.  I wish I were a better writer so that I could more fully convey how purely cool it is to be at a beautiful location with your close friends around you, laughing and joking and conversating with a frosty beverage in hand.  Since I'm not that talented, though, I only say this; it was as good as good can be.

Especially once the shenanigans started to occur.  S, the reason for the party, decided that his clothes were unnecessary and promptly doffed them all on a bet.  While his unmentionables were covered by a hat, there was a lily white moon out that night - twice!  Hilarious.  Later in the evening I was standing innocently next to Ninja Slipper when he decided that he was going to pour beer all over me.  While I screeched and danced away, I tried valiantly to retaliate, and got (accidentally) popped in the mouth for my troubles.  Jeeze, NS, there was no need to practically shove a bottle down my throat; I wasn't being real successful in my revenge anyway.  God sees and corrects all, though, and while I was whining miserably to various bystanders, He was dealing out some instant karma.  Eleven stitches worth of karma, to be exact.  Apparently NS decided to shove his hand into a broken bottle at precisely the wrong angle.  I didn't actually see it, because I was too busy being a wimpy little bitch about my mouth.  I felt a little silly when I saw how bad his (unrelated) injury was to mine; after all, he is my friend, and I don't really wish him any harm.

A couple nights later we were at the Pit and happened to be recapping the events of the night when NS said one of the most astute things I've ever heard.  To wit, he said, "You know, if we didn't live on Kwaj, we'd have all gotten interventions a long time ago." 

Very true, my friend, and it's been a damn fun ride.  My salad days are nearly over.