[ main ]
[ info ]
[ contact ]
[ links ]
/////////////////////
[ music ]
[ art ]
[ writing ]
[ movies ]

I rubbed my eyelids as the buzzer sounded five o' clock. I felt like a nut waking up at that hour, just to see a goddamned sunrise... but Mike talked me into it the night before. He's a nut for photography, you see, even though he's no natural talent for it - he just likes pointing out photo ops to me so I can take them. He ranted on for so long last night about catching the beautiful tequila sunrise that I had a number of dreams all relating to missing the tequila sunrise. Shuffling uncomfortably, I moved my weight off of the bed and onto my feet.

I nudged Mike sleepily. "Wake up, you bastard," I said. The buzzer seemed to have no effect on him, so I slammed it without reprehension. "It's five 'o clock. Time to see the sunrise."

"Mrph," he mumbled, and rolled over so his back was to me. I quickly picked up one of the wooden chairs and broke it over his back, much to his and the chair's derision. "Ouch, you ass," he yelled when he scrambled to his feet after falling onto the ceramic floor. "What the fuck was that for?"

"For not waking up."

"What about the chair? Won't you have to pay for it?"

I shrugged in the consuming darkness. "It's an all-inclusive. Just get your shoes and maybe a shirt on, and we'll go take the photo you wanted so much."

After gathering the stuff necessary to photography and walking, we sifted through the forest paths, or at least what seemed to be a forest path - the path that joined the pool and the lobby to the numerous buildings was groomed to look like a thriving jungle. "This place is cool," I reminded Mike with a playful shove. He reacted with a grunt that can only be assumed as playful, and we made our way to the pool and the eventual beach. The pool was the biggest I'd ever seen - it stole my eyes away from the palm trees and thatched grass huts surrounding it with its shimmering blue water.

The faintest hint of light could be perceived on the waterfront. "Quick," Mike yelled with a frantic finger-pointing towards the beach. "We don't want to miss it!"

We ran, heels over head, towards the sandy outcropping of earth that was our resort's beach. When we got there, I stood, jaw gaping, at the horizon.

It was clouded over. "You bastard," I said, turning to face Mike. "You made me wake up for this cloud shit?"

"Just take the damn picture, mmnkay? I don't need your attitude at..." he glanced at his watch, "Five ten? What the hell were you thinking, waking me up at this hour just to see the sunrise? I'm going back to bed," he said, turning his back and making for the building. "Freak," he added when he was a sufficient distance away that my deadly jump-kick would be unable to reach him. Shaking my head, I snapped a few shots of the cloudrise and followed Mike back.

When I reached the door, I stopped in my tracks. An immense insect, looked like a grasshopper, was perched precariously on the doorknob. Careful not to disturb it, I knocked loudly on the door.

Mike swung it open, clad only in boxers, clutching a bottle of imported Mexican beer in his right fist and scratching his ass eruditely with the left. "What?"

"Look on the doorknob."

His eyes grew. "Cool. Take a picture."

"Christ, no! What if the bastard jumps at me because of the flash!" I pictured the locust-creature clawing out my throat with those immense claws, and then goring me.

"You pansy," he said, eyeing the thing closely. "Just take the shot."

"You take it."

"No."

"Yes."

"Fine!" he said, snatching the camera away from me with his now-free ass-hand. "But you're taking the picture of the next giant creature we see."

"Guess you'll be the subject."

"Shut the fuck up and move. I'm gonna take it."

He took the shot, and the insect reacted with a whole load of nothing - I guessed it might have been dead. "Uh, cool. Can I come in now?"

"Sure," he said as I stepped cautiously into the room. Mike slammed the door shut, sending the poor creature flying benightedly through the dark into the nearby pseudo-jungle.

The lights were on, and I stared more intently at our room - it was furnished with all the usual hotel stuff, including a mini-bar stuffed with the brand of beer Mike was drinking a second ago. "It's all free," he reminded me while leafing through the services pamphlet. I grabbed the remote, and turned on the television.

"Dude, check this out," I said, pointing at the lit screen. "Soccer on TV."

"Weird," said Mike, grabbing another beer and sitting on his of the twin beds. "Change the channel, soccer sucks." I complied, and a dozen naked women jiggling profusely writhed their way onto the screen. "Yeah, that's what I'm talking about!" he cried with a cheer. "Woo!"

"Uh, no," I said, changing the channel to some Shakira music video, and then turning it off. "So what do you want to do today?"

"I dunno," said Mike, bouncing on his bed. "How about we just hang out here, you know, stay close to home?"

"That's fine, I guess. As long as you don't break anything."

"Yeah, shove it." He stepped off the bed, and threw on a shirt. "Let's hit the pool."

"It's only six. Shouldn't we at least have breakfast?"

"Bah. Food is for the weak. But I will comply with your pathetic demands."

***

The buffet was huge. Mike pronounced the T in buffet, so that it rhymed with muffet - and no, that's not 'muffay'. "Jesus," said Mike, chomping on an enormous quesa-something. "Can this country have anything small? I just want a small fucking french fry." He lifted a fry that was the size of a Canadian potato dripping with blood-red Mexican ketchup to prove his point.

"That would be nice," I agreed, chewing on some fresh, delicious fruit-yogurt thing. "So you want to just hang out here today? Catch some sun and reading?"

"Sure," he said with a grin. "Let's rocket."

<back                                            next>