…is what Bill is probably having. Or maybe just residual mofongo farts, because we did get back from Puerto Rico Sunday night. Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday…hmm, mofongo traveling down the small and large intestines at a velocity of, uh…divided by 5 days…well, really that’s some tricky math. But I suppose you’re more interested in my recent travels to Puerto Rico than you are the timing and functions of Bill’s digestive system. So, I’ll elaborate.

Our flight left early Wednesday morning (2/13), so we had to rise at roughly the asscrack of dawn to be at the airport on time to park and get through security. Not a huge problem for me since I’m a bit of a morning person. It happens when you get up at 5:30am everyday. Bill, well he’s a morning person…just more of an 11am type of morning person. Regardless, both of us managed to get up and get on the road without too many snafus. Wait, did I say without too many snafus? Because I meant with some really giant snafus. Giant snafu #1: My injury-prone self reached across my office chair to get something from my bed. Unfortunately I haven’t been really strict with my yoga practice lately, so my balance was a bit off. I toppled, but thank goodness my office chair broke my fall….by stopping me straight in the sternum. So, once I was able to breathe properly again and stopped massaging my cleavage (do NOT insert porn music here), I looked under my bed (because I was lying on the floor) and noted that my sunglasses were lying there as well….broken. Apparently, they weren’t lucky enough to have my office chair save them from an early demise. A trip to Puerto Rico sans sunnies?? Who does that?? Me, that’s who. Oh yeah, in case you missed it, that was Giant Snafu #2. Snafu #3 came in the form of a glowing “check engine” light about 10 miles into our drive. Thank goodness the problem didn’t actually escalate to Giant Snafu #4.

The rest of the morning proceeded without a hitch. We arrived at the airport with plenty of time, checked our bags, scrambled through security, and still had time leftover to enjoy a deliciously overpriced breakfast. Mmmm, mmm! We boarded the plane right on time, and enjoyed a relatively peaceful flight to San Juan’s Luis Munoz airport. Peaceful except for the dude in front of me reclined his chair. Bill disagrees, but I believe before reclining one’s seat in economy class, one should have the decency to turn around and make sure the person behind you is okay with it. After all, you are compromising his/her (extremely limited) space when you do so…and potentially pouring their complimentary cup of apple juice in his/her lap if you do so quickly. No, no apple juice incidents for me. However, I was unable to regain my legroom by reclining my own chair, because the size of the woman behind me would not allow it…even if I asked permission. I’m in no way slighting her size or weight, just pointing out the facts.

After living in Florida for a year and a half, I’ve gotten pretty used to flat, flat landscape. Albeit pretty, it can get mildly boring. So, you can imagine that the hilly and mountainous terrain was oh so welcome and breathtaking. It looked surreal when we were coming in for landing. And that’s all I have to say about that.

We landed safely, got our bags, and immediately headed to the first store to purchase me a pair of sunnies. Next stop, Charlie Rental Car. We arrived at the rental car station to find that no one was at the Charlie spot…just a phone. Mmkay. Luckily, we had the number to call in with our papers, and did so to arrange a pickup. We ran outside to find the Charlie Car Rental van pulling away without us. Dammit!! So, we waited. And waited. And waited. While we were waiting a gentleman dressed like every stereotypical Colombian cocaine dealer you’ve ever seen walked over to stand a few feet away from Bill & I. Though I’m not sure how he managed to do it with finesse, he hocked giant, streaming loogies without looking dirty or trashy. I kept glancing at him—dressed in flowing khakis, donning a palm print shirt with the first 3 buttons undone, tanned golden bronze…even wearing the Panama Jack style hat. He kept staring at me, and then walked around behind me leaning over a bit to look at my luggage. I pretended to rifle through it looking for something and then formed a wagon train of my luggage around me. He still stood suspiciously near and kept staring at me for long periods of time. Then, he leaned over and says, “You kids from Philadelphia?” in the most American of accents ever. Yeah, so my suspicions were all wrong, but Bill thought he was super weird until he started talking, too…Crisis averted, we finally got on the Charlie bus and picked up our stunning rental, a Hyundai Brio. What the “f”? Has anyone even heard of that?? No, the answer is no, you haven’t.

Speeding off in our Brio (which seems to have only one gear because you can put the pedal to the metal, and 10 seconds later you’re only going 5mph faster), we took a few wrong turns and got lost in San Juan for a little bit. No biggie, we managed to find our way out and successfully made the drive to Hatillo, an hour away, to check into our hotel, the Rosa del Mar. Just a quick comment on Puerto Rican driving—I love it. They’ve somehow managed to blend hectic urgency with laidback relaxation. People tailgate and cut each other off like mad…but no one seems to care. Hard to get your panties in a bunch when you’re surrounded by the lush landscapes of Puerto Rico. Oh, and just because I don’t know where else I’ll fit this in…there are sooo many chickens in Puerto Rico trying to find the answer to the age-old question, “Why did the chicken cross the road?” Well, I’ll tell you what. The chicken didn’t cross the road at all. He would’ve gotten run over, you dumbass!

So, we checked into the hotel and drove over to the DZ to get our check-in taken care of…which you can’t do without your rigs. So back to the hotel, then back to the DZ. Sign here, initial there, blah blah blah…registration done. The check-in goodie bag alone probably would have secured this as the coolest boogie ever: a Rums of Puerto Rico laptop bag, 10 CD holder, a Coqui tree frog card and pin, a Passport holder, an inflatable beach ball, a keychain, a Rums of PR t-shirt, and Rums of PR hat, a Rums of PR travel mug, a Rums of PR flask, a small drawstring bag, and oh yeah… a free bottle of Rum. Some people got Parrot Bay, some Bicardi, some Don Llevo, some Don Q…all delicious and deliciously free! So we met up with Jill, Matt, Liz…and everyone else who was there. Peoples from all over.

After sunset, back to the hotel to get ready for the welcome dinner/party at La Salitre Restaurante. And…that’s when we found out that Liz had already checked into a different room than us since she was there on the 12th…that the reservations had been taken care of by the DZ…Thankfully, Jill & Matt needed a place to stay, so they took over our room while we moved our stuff to Liz’s room. No worries, crisis averted. And we didn’t even have to make use of the rum.

Dinner at the restaurant was awesome. Unfortunately Bill had to drive, so he couldn’t do toooo much sampling of the rums. We ordered our mojitos, and during the long, hungry wait for our food, discovered the solution to peace in Bill’s life. A full stomach. He was mildly irritable and slightly lethargic, all cured by food. This theme pretty much repeated itself throughout the entire trip. You could say “chicken wings” and he’d cheer up at the very idea. A few minutes into the dinner, they announced a surprise…a loud surprise. A band walked out to the terrace outside and began playing ridiculously festive music…accompanied by stilt walkers! You can’t really be any less than thrilled and smiling when you’re surrounded by good peoples, good drinks, good food, and crazy stilt walkers! Soo much fun! Oh yeah, and I met mangy stray Puerto Rico dog #1 that night. I called him Scabies. Shortly after someone decided to be “that guy” and Jill made an appearance as “that girl” (an idea with which she is TOTALLY OK!!) we drove back to the hotel so Bill could actually drink a bit. Unfortunately, by the time we got back we were extremely tired and no one was up for drinking, so Bill had to have a lonely solo drink before we all crashed.

(You may wish to grab a snack or maybe even your own mojito, because I’m just getting started)

Day 2 started with a delicious breakfast of Zucaritas…son riiiicos! (Frosted Flakes) and then off to the DZ for some jumping. Fun fun fun, and then the winds kicked in. About midday everyday it would start getting ridiculously windy. I’d like to say that it was just strong, steady winds…and it was, between the gusts, you know? So you had to ask yourself, “Are you feelin’ lucky, punk?” And plan your skydive according to your answer to that question. After 2 skydives, my answer was a resounding “no.” Rather than start drinking like mad and sacrificing myself, I said, “F this, I’m in Puerto Rico. I’m gonna go do something fun!” And fun it was!! Bill and I drove to Cueva Ventana, or “window cave”. About 15 minutes from the DZ and a small hike later, we found the cave entrance. A great big tree with most of its roots exposed. Between some of the roots, there was space enough to crawl through. Turned on my headlamp and in we went. Jason had mentioned steps at the entrance, so we started scouting. All we found was a 10 foot sheer dropoff onto craggy rocks on one side, and a long wobbly root with a rope tied onto it descending into darkness on the other side. So, we went with the rope, not bothering to get stuck on details like: how are we going to get back out? I will do my best to describe the indescribable, but I would really recommend you just book your flight to PR now and go see it. Even the pictures don’t do it justice. Giant, high ceilings, bats squeaking, and formations all over. It’s not a wet cave, but still ridiculously awesome. Jason told us to “follow the light” so we pressed on, walking out on a balcony-type ledge looking into the forest. Vines hanging down and lush greens everywhere. Sooo amazing. After some more exploring we ventured out another hole in the cave and found trail again. The right trail leading us to the right cave. Yeah, we were definitely in the wrong cave. This one had the promised steps and everything. Waaay easier entrance. So we descended into a bigger, darker, creepier cave. Wouldn’t have been as creepy if we’d had two lamps, because I kept looking at the things I wanted lit up, and Bill would light up what he wanted to see when he had it. The creep factor in caves definitely diminishes when you can say, “What was that??” and swing your light over to look at it. Plus, I kept awaiting something furry to brush against my leg since Jill and Matt had been there the day before and had warned us about a dog that either chews on a dead bat, or on you. Thankfully, the dog waited until we’d actually gotten to the reason they call it “La Ventana.” We followed the light, me clutching to Bill, and stopped when we heard music. I think it’s always wise when walking around in a creepy cave to determine whether music you hear is “we’re having a satanic, blood-worshipping, sacrificial ritual and you probably shouldn’t interrupt us” music or “happy, festive, we’re a bunch of locals who may or may not smoke illicit substances” music. Luckily we happened upon the acoustic guitar wielding type. Walking out to the view was seriously breathtaking. A giant, gaping mouth in the cave overlooks this amazing tropical valley. A fauna-blanketed drop-off leads your eye to this river that just winds its way through the landscape, bordered on the other side by more lush mountains. It looks like someone just projected a giant postcard on the opening. Amazing. The whole time I was enjoying this view the aforementioned dog was eating me. Playful bites, but still some power behind the jaw. Had it been a stray Chihuahua, maybe not a problem, but it felt like it was crunching knuckles and tendons like they were play-doh. Appropriately since he was not being bitten, Bill laughed at me. And then it bit him. Hah! After some more speechless staring, we wandered back out of the cave, dog trotting behind us. Bizarrely, the dog doesn’t bite you unless you’re actually at the window. Once we were back in the cave and wandering back on the trail, the dog was just hopping on lizards and beetles, running down the trail and looking back over it’s shoulder at you, and then romping off again….exactly like Mia Wallace. That’s right, Puerto Rican Mia Wallace, the Cave Dog. It followed us the whole way to the car, then turned around and wandered back up to the cave. I’ve already decided when I retire I’m gonna be a cave lady and hang out with the dog all day.

Following our adventures, we spent the evening eating and drinking at the hotel. Everything, and I mean everything was busy for Valentine’s Day. Even Church’s chicken had a line outside!!! Oh yeah, must must must insert hilarious moment. Throughout the trip people were acting ridiculous to Liz—asking her manifest questions at breakfast, talking shop, blahdy blah blah. Um, do you see the cornflakes? Do you see a load timer? No? Okay, shut your face and eat your Zucaritas. Anyway, as she was carrying back our filled ice bucket on her shoulder, a guy who she’d been manifesting ALL DAY!!! Said, “Excuse me, ma’am? Could you bring me some towels?” Luckily Matt was there to calm here down, because she was INCENSED!! And well she should be, but it’s also lucky Matt was there to heighten the hilarity of the situation. He turns to the man and asks, “What room are you in? She’ll be right up.” Bwahahaah!!!

The next day was pretty uneventful. Too windy for me to jump so I lazed around while Bill did and then lazed around in our rooftop pool. Got some oh so hot boobie burn. Hooowee! Night brought on some insane fun, though! Rums of Puerto Rico showed up, distributing delicious free drinks all night. The only ones distinguishable were the rum punch and the pina coladas. Everything else was just a color. “Have you tried the purple yet?? It’s freakin’ amazing!!” “Nah, I’m pretty partial to the blue. Ooo, they just put out green! Let’s go get some green!” A Red Bull truck provided some awesome videos and a DJ booth. Pretty much everything needed for a successful party. Excpet for penis pictures. Um, *Lance? You busy? What ensued was the greatest penis charade I have ever seen. *Lance managed to get in nearly every picture taken, all hangin’ out with his wang out. We even managed to get close-up shots when I ran over to shake my bum in front of the video camera, a setup so he could swoop in and wag his cock and balls all over film. Freakin’ awesome. And there may or may not have been a poop incident where someone may or may not have taken a giant crap on top of an unidentified rental car. But you know those rumors.

K, this is where I’m gonna stop for this one. I will continue these misadventures in Monfongo Poops 2. Please turn this blog over to Side B and press play. Thank you.

*Names were changed to protect the oh so guilty.

(pictures to follow as well....lots of peekshures!!)