Sunday, November 13, 2011

A Near Death Experience (My Trip to Belize)

               "Final Destination" movies do not sit well with me emotionally or gastronomically. The idea of death seeking me out with a personal vengeance inspires a multitude of nightmares that tend to span over a period not to exceed thirty days. Since I was stood up on a movie date that led me to watch the slasher movie "Saw IV" by myself in a movie theatre at eleven o'clock on a Friday evening while wearing gladiator boots, I have made every effort since to avoid any sort of voluntary fear. I don't deal well with things that I have no control over. The fact that I don't know when the bus is going to come out of nowhere and kill the main character of the movie troubles me deeply. Thus, when it comes to real life, I make every effort possible to evade danger. As I approach my quarter of a century mark on life, I think I have done pretty well at not being killed by a moving vehicle and making it to second base with strangers. Unfortunately, on my recent trip to Belize, danger was determined to follow me, capture me, and abuse me in every way possible. Specifically, this danger came in the form of a travelling event across the beautiful country of Belize where I experienced my first "Final Destination" moment.

        We were travelling from Belize City to a small urban area called Punta Gorda. Naomi, Queen Jemima, and Earth Mother received the luxury of flying in on a jet plane tinier than a barbie doll's vagina. The remaining company members were prepared to experience this joyous trip via land, on a chartered bus. So there we were: Young Diva, Applebum, Daddy Long Legs, Pilar, B-More, Charlie Brown, Caramel Barbie, Tuscaloosa, Shoniqua, Michelin Man, Evangeline, and Banana Tree along with Yours Truly waiting for this amazing Caribbean version of the Magic School Bus to arrive. Unfortunately, our horse and carriage ended up coming in the form of a white mini van similar to those used in race-based shootings. The thirteen of us just stood in astonishment as our ride approached being driven by Malibu (the sweetest hostess ever). Truly, there was nothing wrong with the van, but the idea that everybody was going to squeeze themselves into this clown car seemed beyond absurd. To make things worse, some of the people in the company had some rather bizarre ideas about packing. To be clear, this was merely an overnight stay in Punta Gorda. We were arriving in the evening and leaving early the next morning. I simply packed a small handbag. Evangeline, on the other hand, came strolling out of the hotel with her ENTIRE SUITCASE! Can you imagine? What the Christ could she possibly need in a place that we were only going to spend twelve hours in? I was beside myself. Piling on with the fact that thirteen people, plus a driver had to fit into one van, this became quite overwhelmingly ridiculous to me. Pilar and Shoniqua also had suitcases. There was an epidemic ensuing. Eventually there was some consolidation amongst the three stooges. Malibu ended up calling for back-up anyhow. A small pick-up truck was added to the quest which ended up taking some of the suitcases and heavier items including Michelin Man. Finally, everything had been settled. It all worked out in the end and we were on our merry way to Punta Gorda. I thought after that endeavour, that all would be just peachy.

         I remember very little of the six hour drive to Punta Gorda, outside of the delicious plantain chips I bought at a gas station for less than one American dollar. I was passed out for the bulk of the trip thanks to the series of libations I had treated myself to at breakfast. The engine started, and we were trucking along the "highway" of Belize, and before you know it, the back of my head was bouncing rhythmically and comfortably against the seatback behind me. I was deep into my beauty rest after slipping easily into my restful slumber completely unaware of the fact that a dramatic change of events was waiting patiently around the corner. I was awoken by the sound of gun fire! I had never heard anything so frightening. It was rapid fire! After waking up immediately, my first reaction was to burrow my bi-racial Canadian face into B-More's lap (she was seated next to me in the back of the van). I never thought that in a time of crisis that I would seek refuge in co-worker's vagina, but desperate times call for desperate measures. The shots kept firing over and over again relentlessly! Tears began streaming down my face probably into B-More's unsuspecting vagina. I trembled in fear amidst the screams of terror from the other innocent people in the van. Lord knows who would be left alive after the attack. Memories of my childhood came rushing through my imagination. Images of rainbows, caramel taffy, and lesbian manatees came sweeping into my mind. These were surely the final thoughts one would have before his or her destination into heaven. I squeezed my eyes shut as tight as I could in hopes I would not endure the pain as the bullets penetrated my organs. Finally, the blasting of bullets stopped. I remained clenched around B-More's lap, refusing to let go of her vagina until I knew she was still alive and I was safe. After several moments passed, and after the screams had died down, I allowed myself to open one eyeball, the right one. I meticulously released my upper body from B-More's lower body to very precariously resume my torso's upright position. Everyone was alive. I have Jesus, Allah, and Buddha to thank for that. After I thoroughly checked my Canadian body for bullet holes and discovered that the shooter had missed me, I breathed a sigh of relief that for some reason came out as a small fart. I ignored the inappropriateness of my flatulence and instead turned my attention to the assurance that everyone in the van was safe after successfully evading being gunned down. Once B-More's laughter made a cameo appearance, my emotinons turned to the anger-filled variety. How could she be laughing at my hysteria?! I came to find out that there we were not attacked by the Belizean mafia. One of the tires had simply blown out.

           First of all, can we add to the Canadian elementary school curriculum in the "career and personal planning" section, a unit completely dedicated to the enlightening of students to the idea that a blown tire sounds srikingly similar to that of Biggie Small being assassinated? I could not believe that the gunshots I had experienced audibly were in fact those of a simple Firestone tire having a bad day on international travel. Unbelievable! In my state of total shock and embarrassment, I vacated the vehicle to avoid any further humiliation in such close proximity to the witnesses of my ridiculous behaviour. The other members of the company also followed suit. Thank God I had filled a Coca Cola bottle with some delicious Caribbean rum from my hotel room for the excursion. I knew I would need an afternoon libation at some point. Evangeline and Shoniqua (both of which have bladders smaller than a teenage Korean gymnast's) discovered that they needed to use the restroom. Remember that at this point we were completely stranded on the side of the road in a foreign country. Neither of those two have any sense of being self conscious, thus they both (one at a time) whipped out their vaginas and copped a squat in the middle of the road to mark their territory. May I just point out the fact that female public urination (regardless of your sexuality) is the most unattractive thing since SARS. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum (Shoniqua and Evangeline) eventually strolled their way off from the side of the road to a random woman's house who had come to investigate what was happening on the side of the road. My impression of her thoughts came out verbally in the form of "WHAT YA DOON IN ME DRIIIIIVEWEY?". Daddy Long Legs found my interperatation of this woman's thoughts to be quite amusing. As Shoniqua and Evangeline wandered off to the home of this random woman, I prayed that they would not end up like Hansel and Gretel. After they made it back safely from their adventure, they informed us that they were welcomed with open arms and were given a full tour of this unsuspecting woman's home. This tour included a thorough introduction to a vast collection of dolls kept in the basement. Clearly Shoniqua nor Evangeline have ever seen "Bride of Chucky". I'm just glad they made it back to the stranded van with their virginities in tact. After several passers by, including a teenager on a bicycle with a machete, we finally fixed the issue with the tire and made our way successfully arriving in Punta Gorda without a single bullet hole.

            I cannot emphasize enough that I really thought I was going down like Tu Pac. In those short moments of complete terror and fright, I forgot all about my diarrhea and concentrated on what was truly important to me as life was leaving me. Because of this near death experience, I have come to realize what I truly want out of life. If I were to die tomorrow, I would want all of the people whom are close to me to know how much I love them, especially my family, my friends, and most importantly, the head salesman at the liquor store down the street from my apartment building. I plan on being on this Earth for a long long time, but it is unfortunate that it is truly not up to me how long I am divinely favored to experience the fruits of this world. What I do know is that for whatever time I am alotted, I will do my best to fill it with love and joy and to also perpetuate that love and joy so that others may experience it too. The most important lesson of all is that at any moment you are concerned about losing your life, seek out the vagina that is closest to you for refuge.


No comments:

Post a Comment