Day 3: Cabo San Lucas:
We waited to get a sticker, then we were called to line up and wait for our tenders.
Tenders are also known in other situations, as “lifeboats”. That’s right, we were going to have to get to the land, via another little boat. I hadn’t been too keen on this idea, as I’m not too keen on boats in general (I know, i know, I’m on a bloody cruise!). However, once we’d waited in line for what seemed like an hour, we finally got onto our little vessel. It was pretty cool seeing the giant cruise liner disappear behind us, and I really did get a feeling of what Captain Bligh felt like as Fletcher Christian and the other Mutineers s******ed and waved at them as they were cast adrift. Fortunately though, we had an advantage over Captain bligh and his crew, an engine..and a bloke to steer the boat...and a wallet full of dollars. Yeehaaa!
We came in to moor at cabo San Lucas, and there were Pelicans everywhere, and it was an awesome sight to see them in the wild, not in some zoo or bird sanctuary.
After being greeted by a couple of fake pirates, we trotted off in the direction of the dolphin centre, which had numerous real pirates trying to sell jewelry and other such trinkets. this would turn out to be a major source of mirth later in the day.
We were guided to the dolphin centre and after receiving wristbands that were similar to a track day, we were then required to sign a waiver..er..just like a track day. I was wondering if we were going to be racing these dolphins or something. turns out that it wasn’t too far from the truth.
We had ben told by the instructors not to touch their heads and faces (although Amy managed to touch some faeces as ours swam by..yuk!), but as the dolphin was circling us, I accidentally smacked it in the face whilst trying to maneuver myself in the pool. I had a feeling it wouldn’t let me get away with it, and I was right. A little later it swam past me and flicked me in the knackers with its tail. B a s t a r d.
In all seriousness though, the whole thing was incredible, and every bit as good as I had imagined it would be. The highlight was the belly ride, where the dolphin laid on its back, you grabbed its pectoral fins and it motored off around the pool as you tried to wipe the inane grin from your face. Typically, being a racer, I asked if it could go any faster, but it seems you have to tuna dolphin to get any more power out of it *Badoom, Tssshk!”
We bought some pics and a DVD, and in all fairness, the pics and especially the DVD were highly impressive given the 10 minutes they had to edit it and create it. Very good indeed my Mexican Spielberg wannabes.
We didn’t have to be back at the boat for a while, so we wandered round the front to grab a bite to eat. Every few yards, we would be accosted by jewelry sellers, but we must have looked slightly “street” as most of them would also mutter “want some weed?” or “wanna get high?”...”Cocaine?” Personally, I put it down to Amy’s tattoos and several Mexican guys shouted “Hey, do you wanna know where the tattoo shop is?”
On the way back to the boat later on, we had gotten tired of being asked if we wanted any gear, so when one young lad asked us again, I told him we had loads of drugs, that we were gonna have a crazy party and that he was invited. His face was a picture, it went from streetwise young geezer, to shocked and surprised teenager faster than you could say “ 2 loopy Gringos”. Quality.
In-between amusing ourselves with the local drug dealers, we went and had a bit to eat at a place called Margaritavilla. We had some quesadillas and some fajitas, but the decisive factor was the huge, and I do mean quite titanic Margaritas that we were served. They were like buckets, I s h i t you not. We were pretty toasted after these, so we staggered around the little town for a while taking pics.
The trip back to the boat was as cool as the trip away from it, and I took a bit of video, whilst simultaneously taking the **** out of a group of Canadians in a South Park style.
We had booked a massage each before we left, so we got our asses in gear and went to check that out. We had a very nice, tiny little South African chick called Riki doing our treatments, and although she was small, she could suck like an experienced hooke...I mean, her massage pressure was impressive to say the least.
The day was flying by, and it was time to head to dinner once again, with our mildly less dull friends. The boat was pitching about quite a bit and the lightweight majority had stayed away from any intake of food aboard this floating roller coaster. This included Gerry, the wife of our dining table partner, David. He seemed less uptight when she wasn’t around, I can’t imagine why that might be, as her whiny, nasally tones had endeared her to us no end.
He asked how our day with the dolphins had gone, and we both broke straight faced into a yarn about how a woman in our group had gotten in the way of one of the dolphins and been knocked unconscious by its tail as it splashed out of the water. I added that we thought her teeth had been knocked into the water, but that it was just pieces of polystyrene from her flotation vest. I also tacked on the fact that the Mexican trainer had been in floods of tears. Amy assisted ably, and we managed it without cracking up.
Ironically, David then told us how their son had fallen over and knocked his teeth backwards, requiring a trip to the local dentist in the process. Irony?, or was David smarter than he looked and giving us a bulls h i t rebuttal? We’ll never know I guess,.
The previous day, we had ordered a bottle of wine to go with our meal, which was served to us by Antonio our wine waiter, who was a real character and a sterling bloke. Amy had done some wine tasting previously, and did a thoroughly convincing impersonation of someone that knows what the hell they’re talking about when it comes to drinking wine. She slooshed it around in the glass, then stuck her beak in it and had a good whiff before finally tasting it and proclaiming it fit for consumption. I took the **** a bit and she told me that if she hadn’t liked it, she could have sent it back. The next night however, was a different story. Once again, our resident wine swiller sloshed the claret around, gave it a quick snort, but didn’t look too impressed. Antonio, said that we would try to find something with a bit more body about it for the next night, and promptly hightailed it. I laughed my ass off and said “Well so much for sending it back then!”
After a few more drinks we were even less impressed than when we first started, and this really shouldn’t have been the case, as everyone knows that it doesn’t matter what you drink when you’re already ****ed. I collared Antonio and asked him what the point of swilling the booze around and sniffing it like a bunch of daisies, then having a thimble full if you couldn’t send it back if you didn’t like it?
He looked a little stumped for a second, then, like the true professional he is, he explained that it wasn’t really anything to do with the taste of the wine, more to ensure that the wine was in good condition. I told him that I was no wine expert, but that I really didn’t think that this was a $48 bottle of wine, in anybody’s language. There was a good glassful left that we’d attempted to palm off on David, but he wasn’t having any of it either, so i asked Antonio if he was able to taste it for us.
I wasn’t sure if he’d be allowed to drink on duty, but to my immense surprise and incredible amusement, he stood upright and boldly stated “Of course Sir, that is why I carry this!” and proceeded to pull out the biggest Hip hop looking chain, which had what can only be described as a silver plated, shallow ladle without the handle, attached to the chunky ghetto necktie. He put a Portuguese sized portion in his pimpin’ metal booze pouch, and gave it a swill. His face started to look like a bulldog that had licked some **** of a stinging nettle, and eventually declared that it really shouldn’t taste like that. Amy looked very pleased with herself. good skills, wino.
Antonio, who we now very aptly named Flava Flave, promised to give us a free bottle of wine for the next evening, which was certainly mission accomplished, and without having disrespected the guy in any way shape or form. We staggered around the sloshing ship before retiring to bed, safe in the knowledge that we couldn’t have had much more fun that day if we’d had the entire Monty Python team as our tour guides.