Paradise

So I can’t believe that I have never written about the Greatest Vacation Incident(s) Day ever. I mean, I’ve told a few people about it but it should truly be immortalized in ephemeral internet words for sure. Much like the waxing incident of ’13 or the waxing haikus of ’09. This story does not contain any waxing, for the record. I know it seems like there’s a theme in my life but not all of my follies involve bikini waxes.

Picture it: Puerto Rico, 2013. I had taken the boys on an extended vacation of awesomeness to celebrate the achievement of my BSN. It was tough on all of us, and we needed some time to decompress. We spent most of our time on a tiny island to the east of PR (Isla Vieques) which is the most kick ass place on earth in spite of its wild horse population. I mean, horses just doing their horse thing, everywhere. There you are, on a distant isolated beach, when suddenly horses come galloping by. You’d think it might be poetic and majestic but it was gross and traumatic. For me, anyway, 4-H people would have found it magnificent probably.

I digress. We had to go back to the main island to leave, and also to see my parents for a day or two because they were in San Juan (hopped on the vacation bandwagon but stayed on the main island. Big mistake, if you ask me, unless you think horses suck. Which I do but other things overcame that.). I had looked up hotels on tripadvisor.com, and found one that was reasonably priced and got good reviews. By good reviews, I mean people said things like, “For the price, it was certainly about right. There was a bed. And doors.” I’m not sure why I went economical but it did get us a stand up paddle boarding outing so there’s that. Anyway, the hotel was acceptable if funny. It was near a college campus, the subway, and dumpsters. It seemed fairly safe and was clean. The continental breakfast was a pitcher of iced tea and cookie packets, with a side of deformed fruit.

So one day we went over to my parents’ nice hotel to enjoy the pool. And eat real breakfast and lunch. We took the subway, which was very nice. On the walk to the subway, I looked down to see a severed pig’s head on the sidewalk. Like there it was, ho hum, just being severed. Admittedly it took me a few moments to identify it because it was encrusted with flies, very enthusiastically eating it or laying maggots on it or whatever flies do. It was really disgusting, as one might expect, and also quite surprising given that there were no pigs or other livestock noted anywhere in the city. I was all, what the fuck? A severed pig’s head. One does not feel that one has a great hold on reality in moments like that. Also, I was secretly pleased with having experienced such an outlier-type event. Hell yes, I saw a severed pig’s head. How about your day?

On the way home after a nice day with my parents, we arrived at the subway station (maybe 9 o’clock at night) and had to walk the 3 blocks back to the hotel. I was with the boys, ages 12.5 and 9.5, and was ever vigilant because I will kick ass on their behalf basically anytime with very little provocation. Also I wanted to see if the severed pig’s head was still there. Sadly it was not; only a smudge on the sidewalk suggested its existence. But then I noticed that it appeared to be the time of night when working women start their shifts, and I was certainly in the middle of that type of neighborhood. To my great surprise I came across a wheelchair prostitute. I don’t think that’s something one sees every day, and I was once again appreciative of the awesomeness of a rare sighting. Alas I was with my children so could not experience the moment to fullness, which would have of course included adult commentary. At any rate we got back to the hotel safely and I took a moment to reflect on the excellence of the day.

Severed pig’s head why

Did you land upon the walk

Buzz buzz buzz buzz ooze

 

Wheelchair prostitute

You’ll need good brakes for that chair

Keep on keepin’ on