Tuesday, April 9, 2019 (My Birthday)
Cozumel, Mexico
Outfit: Red plaid button down over grey T, jeans shorts
Breakfast: Garden Cafe
Lunch: Garden Cafe
Dinner: Mexican Night at Garden Cafe
Drinks: 3 Stella Artois at O'Sheehan's and that's it.
Entertainment: Noontime showing in the theater of "Mission Impossible: Fallout" in 3-D and "Switch" 80s tribute band in the same theater at 6:30.
Well the old myth about my birthday I'd conjured up for myself over the years was shattered righteously today. It rained vigorously all day. Oh that poor mother. And all the fucks who'd booked excursions on Cozumel today. I hadn't even planned on going ashore here so the weather really sealed that for sure. Unfortunately a lot of others did the same so the ship wasn't as desolate as it might have been during a nice-weather port day.
The afternoon movie was great...felt like a regular cinema with nice high-end 3-D as well. And I hadn't seen this installment of the long-running Tom Cruise franchise yet so that was a plus. One of the better ones I'd say.
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| Have a Great Birthday = Mission Impossible! |
The Mexican food for dinner was horrible. For instance, they had one burrito choice: Sweet Potato Burrito. WTF?
At O'Sheehan's later I was fucking around being a punk to one of the Filipino bartenders when I asked for a Stella draft and he pointed to the inoperable draft pumps saying what sounded like
"They're fiction." Of course I knew he was saying "fixing" in his staccato accent but I grieved him anyway replying I hope the bottles are real at least. A cute redneck guy to my right started to explain to me what he thought the bartender was trying to say and I nodded "Yeah, I know, I'm just being I punk. It's my birthday so I feel punky." Surprisingly, he said that today was his birthday too. We chatted a while about the coincidence and stuff but he seemed to be on the prowl for some birthday booty from the females on-board and was soon on his merry straight guy way.
I had a feeling about the tribute band called "Switch" the second I saw their setup on stage. A cheap and unimaginative drum, electric guitar, bass and keyboard setup with just the standard black curtain backdrop. This band was pure shit. Four middle aged men, which at first I was hopeful about since, like me, they'd lived through the eighties and should remember the ethos of that musical time well. Well if they did, they sure the fuck forgot it 'cause they sounded like they were high schoolers fucking around in some basement somewhere. They were introduced as being from Orlando, Florida but I'd never heard of them. Now I know why. I walked out less than halfway through their show.
Went to bed at 9:30.