Vacation to Ecuador(ian Border)

Just got back from a nice little Ecuador excursion.  Clocking in at a total of twenty-two minutes (or seven minutes longer than my record for longest boning), it sure wasn’t the longest vacation I’ve ever taken.  The whole trip was really just a visa run so I could get my time in Peru extended.  Rumor had it that I would have to stay out of Peru for two days before they’d let me re-enter the country.  And who knows, maybe that’s how things go down.  But when I arrived to the border immigration checkpoint, there was an Asian girl pouting, taking selfies and tweeting about how this racist country wouldn’t allow her entry.  So after dealing with her bullshit, I don’t think they really checked nor cared who entered the country.

I did have to pay a thirteen dollar fine though for overstaying my visa two weeks, and while thirteen dollars isn’t gonna break the bank, I shouldn’t be paying that shit.  I am an AMERICAN CITIZEN, DAMNIT (*fires two pistols of in the air*)

I realize that a vacation to the border is much like a vacation to Florida–technically, it counts as a vacation, but in actuality it feels like one of the outer layers of Hell.  So I decided to turn this farce of a va-cay into a real one.  And therefore, me and my travel partner “The Queen” decided on a trip to Máncora beach in Northern Peru.  The beach is a sexy, fun-loving place with activities aplenty.  One day we swam with some ridiculously large sea turtles.  They must be the perverts of the animal kingdom, because I swear the things were groping the shit out of us underwater.  I think one even tried to give me a Rusty Trombone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

But as fun as it is to get your butt grabbed by horny sea turtles, the trip had its fair share of shitty moments–and I do mean shitty moments.  The majority of the trip was spoiled by a ill-timed stomach virus which was I contracted from a dish of lomo saltado.  This went beyond your typical Taco Bell with Cinnabon shits too.  It was so bad that one morning I woke up, took a shit, went back to bed, took another shit five minutes later, had to pause shitting to vomit on top of the shit, and then finished the shit in the shower because the toilet couldn’t fit any more shit or vomit.  Yup.  One of those mornings.

Now our last day there was something special.  We left our hotel at noon, and to our [whatever the opposite of ‘dismay’ is], the hotel forgot to charge us!  We took to the streets with a little extra money and five hours to kill before our 5:45 bus back to Lima.  Our first destination would be…where else, dipshit?  The beach, on this scorcher of a day, where we started slamming giant bottles of Brahma beer.  The sand was so hot that it would make even Fabio cry.  And Fabio is immune to heat!

Eventually we would traverse those sands to relocate under a multi-colored beach umbrella.  Sitting under the umbrella next to us was a cool Argentine couple.  Plus I could understand them perfectly, which is odd, because normally Argentines have these horrific, miserable accents, and sound like retards with ice cubes in their mouths.  Wait a minute; if I could actually understand them, that could only mean one thing:

I must’ve been drunk as fuck.  Drunk as fuck turned to high as fuck when they introduced a joint into the equation.

That’s when my sense of time crumbled.  I seem to remember going in the ocean, and The Queen’s top coming off six or seven times, but that’s it.

When I asked the couple what time it was, I learned that we had just one hour remaining.  And we still had errands to run!  We started speed-walking around the streets of town, trying to reclaim photos, buy food, souvenirs, and other shit.  By the time we were finished, we had just a few minutes before the bus would leave.  Burrito in hand, we made a mad dash to the bus place.  When the burrito ripped out of the bag (or I dropped it, one of the two), I picked it off the street and shoved the whole thing in my mouth.  HYGIENE FOR LIFE NIGGA!

We made it to the bus place at 5:47.  The woman working there tried telling us that the bus was for 5:30 and not 5:45.  Bitch please.  I pulled out the tickets to show her that we had written evidence of their mistake, and–

by God!  The tickets said 5:30 too!  So who’s the culprit here?  “You can still make it,” the woman encouraged.  Without telling us where we had to go, she put us in a tuk-tuk mototaxi and sent us off.  We drive for five minutes before the driver pulls over and announces he has no idea where he is taking us.  Now, we are pissed.

We barge into the travel agency (called Ronco, by the way), circumvent everyone waiting patiently in line, and walk right up to the counter where The Queen thunderously slams her hands on their desk.  I mean I was pissed, but The Queen went absolute batshit.  She went HAM sandwich on that ass.  And then the woman’s husband came out from his lair and started butting heads with Your Highness.  It got ugly, and naturally, police got summoned.

We were fighting a downhill battle.  There were more of them than us.  We were the unruly foreigners outside of our turf.  I stepped outside to look for another bus company, having now considered the possibility that we would have to buy tickets home a second time.  A few seconds later, I was joined by The Queen, who delivers this message:

“You have to take care of it.  The police won’t let me talk to them because they think I’m drunk.”

Well…shit.  I was drunker than she was.  Let alone I would be communicating in my non-native language, at a third grader’s level… albeit a super-educated third grader.  Like from one of those private catholic schools.  What would I say?

I went in and pulled the good-cop bad-cop routine.  The Queen had just forgotten to take her pills today.  We are good law-abiding citizens!  This is the most beautiful country in the world!  And with crocodile tears streaming from my eyes, I hit em with this one: “Solo queremos devolvernos a casa.”  Loose translation:  “We just want to go home!”  When I saw the guy working there take out a whiteout pen and start altering the time on our tickets, I knew we had won.

I stepped outside to report the joyous news, but The Queen wasn’t where I had left her.  And then I look across the street and there she is,  throwing them back, devouring a queen-size bag of Doritos, legs spread wide. After we had just fought so hard to convince everybody we were NOT drunk, there she is getting hammered.

Of course I joined her.  Some Chileans came over and expressed their support for us, saying, “They don’t even give us food on this bus, even though it’s a twelve hour bus ride.  Fuck this company!”

In actuality, the bus trip took twenty hours, the entire cabin reeked of human fecal matter, and oh, the goddamn bus had crashed within the first ten minutes of the trip.

But other than that, it was just perfect!