Ixtapa - Land of Enchantment

Ixtapa is apparently a favorite vacation/weekend-getaway location for Mexican nationals. I can say this because since I have read all of the Sherlock Holmes books, my deductive senses are keen. And I was the only white guy there. Well, me and a frighteningly immodest fellow who was wearing one of those small, tight bathing suits that only he does not frown upon. I assume (again, with my brilliant deductive reasoning) that he is from Europe and does not count. So to sum up briefly: Ixtapa is a local secret of which only me and some forward-thinking Europeans are aware.

 

Europeans - Unashamed Forward-Thinkers

 

Ixtapa and its sister-city, Zithuatanejo (famous for being the place to which Andy Dufresne and his pal Red escaped in "The Shawshank Redemption") are beautiful resort towns and are teeming with the much-sought-after "all-inclusive" hotels, where they slip a wrist band on you that gives you carte' blanche to all the buffet food and beverages of choice that you can ingest. This can be good or bad - you do the math.

 

There are also a delightful variety of activities such as shopping, sight-seeing, henna-tattoos and para-sailing for the hearty. My wife chose to try the para-sailing, for which I was happy to pay - I live my anti-thrill-seeking life vicariously through others and it is convenient that she is nearby for such things. The para-sailing master whispered that for another 100 pesos, she would not come back safely. I passed on this add-on, not having the wherewithal nor the extra ten dollars in my pocket, but this is valuable information to have, nonetheless...

 

The highlight of the trip, aside from the free food, booze and karaoke (during which I sang "Jump" by Van Halen, to the quiet appreciation of those in attendance, who howled and cried their way through an evening of mostly morose Mexican fare. I nailed the song and was totally under appreciated. You've got to know your audience, I suppose.), was the migration of the baby turtles to the sea. This was performed with much pomp and circumstance and the way was led by two very serious Aztec people in full garb. They may have been Incas - the narrator was speaking much too quickly for me to make this

My wife, the intrepid Thrill-Seeker...

 

out. After much to-do, the little critters were scooped from a large plastic storage bin (which took something away from the traditional Aztec costumes) and wave after wave of the incoming tide came in and swept the baby turtles out to sea. This was accompanied by some dramatic classical music that was piped in through a little Berringer P.A. Not a lot of power in these units, I have found, but it seemed to do the job for this venue - many were teary-eyed, so the music did its job. I, however, was not teary-eyed, still being a bit grossed out by the forward-thinking European.

 

Still appalled.

 

All in all, a very pleasant trip and a splendid time was had by all. I got too much sun and ate too much and drank too much, but so is the way of the reveler. If one pays for all-inclusive, one is not to be shortchanged. To do otherwise would be bad form.

 

Not to be shortchanged.



 



Man Vs. Tiger - An Observation

Some people are just nuts. I read a story this morning about a moron who jumped off an elevated tram above the Bronx Zoo and landed in the tiger den - where the big, live carnivorous tiger lives. The man proceeded to be mauled by the big cat, who inflicted a "deep wound" to his back and a bitten ankle, which may or may not have caused a fracture. It could have been his awkward landing from the imbecilic leap from the tram that broke his foot - I like to think so. Then, the added tiger bite is simply a serendipitous twist of fate. Of course, the tiger could have gnawed on the other ankle, thus forcing the man into a wheelchair and less likely or able to leap willy-nilly from elevated trams of any sort, up to and including those that run over tiger dens.

As you can probably gather, the man was rescued by zoo workers armed with a fire extinguisher, which apparently frightened the cat away from the injured fellow. I imagine they squirted the white powder from the extinguisher at the beast, which while impressive and frightening to simple beasts is mostly harmless - genius. It makes much more sense than waving the extinguisher back and forth, shouting "GET AWAY FROM THE IDIOT, KITTY!" This probably would have not been nearly as effective and would have probably resulted in the jumper being eaten altogether.

Which is exactly why I would have just waved the cylinder and shouted halfheartedly at the ravenous feline.

I don't want it to seem like I actually wish such a horrible fate upon a man, no matter how twisted his line of thinking, but my point is this: This was not a simple act of thrill-seeking - this man didn't jump off the tram into the den of lions for the visceral stimulation - this citizen made an extreme effort, not only leaping from the tram, but clearing two security fences in his jump, to end up staring at the gaping jaws of big-cat fury. He mostly likely wanted to either be eaten by the tiger, or to wrestle it. Who are we to interfere? Let him go, I say, and good luck to him. Granted, he didn't waste any time when instructed to roll under the fences once the beast had been shooed away with the fire extinguisher. This shows amazing lack of character - if he truly wanted to wrestle or be eaten, he would have said, "no, I'm good - if you would please back off with the Goddamn fire extinguisher, the kitten and I would like to continue our little chat..." Now that would have been heroic, if not admirably so.

Instead, what we have is another waffler, crying for attention. Same goes for those who perch on a high ledge above a city street, or a bridge over angry white river a half mile below, threatening to jump and holding up traffic. Jump - please! Stop inconveniencing everyone else in your desperate grab for attention - if you really want to do it, by all means get eaten by a vicious tiger. Otherwise, please stay home, have some Rice Krispies and enjoy some cartoons. The feeling will probably pass - especially after some Rice Krispies. Or get some help - talk to your priest or therapist, get medicated and let your misfiring synapses calm down and then enjoy some Rice Krispies. If you truly need to be eaten by a tiger, go sneak in at night and clap your hands and call the tiger a "pussy". That should have you well-eaten by morning.

In summary, if you really want to be devoured by a 400 pound man-eating beast, by all means, have at it; we promise not to interfere. If you want attention, buy a puppy.

And have some Rice Krispies.




Meet the WINDSEEKER

This is a photograph of the Windseeker ride similar to the one at Knott's Berry Farm that stranded riders over 300 feet in the air for nearly four hours yesterday. Nicely done - the same thing happened earlier in the month too, yet there were still patrons ready and willing to stand in link and give it a go. Those who know me are well aware of my feelings in regards to the thrillseeker (See my blog from September 11 - Thrill Seekers - Have at it! ) - I believe them to be foolhardy and am of the opinion that they will eventually thin their own herd, given enough opportunity.

In addition to the Windseeker mishap, a Google search of "stranded on ride" brought back these results, among others:

Dozens stranded on U.S. ride

Calif. roller coaster strands dozen for hours

Valleyfair power failure strands roller coaster, ferris wheel riders

Superman roller coaster strands riders for 2 hours at Six Flags

 

Now, that's entertainment, folks and it only goes to further my theory that I am better served standing on terra-firma watching the unsuspecting clamber aboard with a rousing "I TOLD YOU SO!" chambered and ready to fire when the inevitable occurs. I hate to beat a dead horse - or in this case, a carousel pony gone stark-raving mad - but circuses and amusement parks are definitely not pleasant places to be, especially if one is of a panicky disposition. I have seen enough Twilight Zone and Alfred Hitchcock Presents episodes to know that carny folk are a particularly devious and shifty lot, especially the clowns. No one wears that much makeup unless they're hiding something. I do, however, adore the little people. They make me smile - I love me some midgets, especially when they run; so damned cute. But that's another story for another day.

 

While the circus might win in the creepiness category, amusement parks take first prize hands-down when it comes to sheer terror. I have been to amusement parks - dragged, of course, snapping and biting at the arms dragging me like a rabid wolverine - and am invariably stricken with vertigo as I walk around the park staring upward at the rides swirling and racing and spinning above me, the screams of those on board echoing through the park like an air-raid siren. And that's what it is, you know - a warning to those below to run - get out while you can! These waves of terrified panic can only be assuaged by Indian Fried Bread slathered in honey, hot dogs, cotton candy and a variety of oversized soft drinks. Even with this self-medication, I usually feel light-headed and sick to my stomach from the vertigo.

I don't know that I will ever be able embrace the world of the amusement park any more than I could hope to overcome my distrust of the circus clown. That said, I feel that it is my own instinct for pure self-preservation that triggers the anxiety and I am certain that my paranoia has no-doubt saved my life on more than one occasion. If it hasn't, it most certainly will.

 

And for the thrill-seekers out there - seriously, have at it! I look forward to more empty seats at the Country Buffet - another thrill-seek in its own right. In closing, whenever I hear about these sorts of roller-coaster mishaps and such, I am always reminded of a joke Norm McDonald made about a ride being shut down at Cedar Point because it wasn't scary enough. McDonald quipped that the ride opened up three days later "with three less bolts". You're welcome.

Narcicircusism - The Skinny

A friend IM'd me today and in the course of our exchange, he told me he had submitted a word to the Urban Dictionary for consideration. He had invented the word "dumbassify" and wrote that if he had to go to the trouble of explaining a statement, he was "dumbassifying" it. To which I agree - if one is forced to laboriously lead another through a straightforward point, the point is either poorly-made or the listener is a fucktard - another fine example of a word which should be put into prominent use in our society. It takes all the stigma out of the word "retard", which special needs folks and their advocates take exception to. Mostly the advocates, I imagine - I don't think the retards give a damn.

I have made up many words - too many to remember, frankly. Mostly on the spot and as a rule usually containing a dirty word paired with a noun, for example "cumsponge" is another colorful description for a woman with questionable moral fiber. I am not completely certain I made that one up - it seems too obvious to have been overlooked by others searching for an alternative to "slut" or "claptrap" - but I will gladly take credit. After all, it's my blog.

I came up with the word "narcicircusism" one fine Chicago afternoon when I spied the 2nd Ex-Mrs. Ford walking down the street with her new "partner", shortly after we had separated. Let it be known that I was not stalking her - we both (all three, actually) happened to work a block away from each other. After the split, she had decided that she was switching teams and had taken up with another female, gotten her hair cut in a similar style and begun to assimilate a similar taste in wardrobe.

Her new partner was a shorter, stockier version of the ex and on this day the two of them were wearing overalls and flannel shirts (shocker) and it struck me that the sight reminded me of Pat McCormick and Paul Williams (Big Enos and Little Enos) in the Smokey and the Bandit films...

I came up with the word "narcicircusism" (pronounced NAR-SI-CIRCUS-ISM) to describe the phenomenon of loving oneself as viewed through a carnival mirror. It gave me a chuckle and never fails to illicit a laugh from those to whom it is explained. Just remember folks, words are fun and they're even funner when you can fiddle around with them to suit your needs. I do it every time I post a misspelling - I take a second to explain the meaning of the misspell. For instance, a "tatto consultation" is like a "tattoo consultation", only briefer and more to the point.

My point is this - don't fear language, embrace it and make it your own. Just don't feel obligated to dumbassify it for the fucktards.