April 10, 2014

Drink, Drank, Drunk (And a Mexican Dancing Queen)

In the end of February, my family went on the vacation of a LIFETIME. I mean, this vacation was no joke. It wasn't your average, drive to Ocean City and rough it in a bed bug infested motel vacation (although I'm certainly no stranger to Ocean Shitty OR it's infestations)...this was a legit Kardashian style trip to the island of St. Thomas. We stayed in a GORGEOUS private villa called "Casa Lupa" complete with an ocean view and infinity pool (watch out Bruce Jenner).

The entrance to our villa. Jealous yet?

This trip was amazing. I have never been to a more beautiful place in my life. For our destination wedding/honeymoon/eloping-but-not-really, Joe and I went to Punta Cana in the Dominican Republic. We stayed at an absolutely beautiful resort...the food was fantastic, there was nightly entertainment and plenty of excursions BUT it was one of those...if you step foot off the resort you will either be immediately chopped up with a machete and fed to stray dogs or get run over by a moped with fifteen people riding on it...type deal.

In St. Thomas, we were able to rent a car and explore the island...without fearing for our lives...and there was SO much to explore. Everywhere you went on the island, there was a fantastic view to be seen. We went paddle boarding, island hopping, swimming with dolphins, zip-lining, hiking...I could go on and on and on...but I wanted to write this post about one of my favorite days in particular...the day Sarah, Joe, and I decided to venture down to Charlotte Amalie (the main little town) on our own. 

The trip started out GREAT, driving down the road on the left hand side, blaring our Caribbean music with the top off our sweet Jeep Wrangler rental, wind blowing in our hair, enjoying the never ending views. The 13 mile island is full of little areas that you can pull over if you really want to take it all in...so we decided to do just that.

Magen's Bay. I KNOW, RIGHT.

I do have to admit...the view was not the main reason we pulled over that day. I was not about to leave the island of St. Thomas without taking a picture with this guy:

When you see this kind of photo opportunity calling, you pull over.

Bear, meet Donkey. Donkey, Bear.

His name is Lady Gaga. He really set the tone for the rest of the day.

My Aunt and Uncle warned us to avoid Charlotte Amalie on the days that the cruise ships would be in town because they often dock in the Charlotte Amalie harbor and allow the passengers out to shop or grab a quick lunch...which makes for a huge clusterfuck of souvenir hungry tourists. Did we listen? Of course not. We wanted to go shopping and we wanted to do it NOW. 

Charlotte Amalie was PACKED. Clusterfuck, indeed.

It took us almost half an hour to find a decent parking spot, at which point we were beginning to get hungry, grumpy, and a little sunburned (riding around with the top down always winds up being one of those "it seemed like a good idea at the time" type things...between sunburn and rat's nest hair, you can't win).

Once we finally found a parking spot, we decided to grab lunch since we were getting cranky. We needed sustenance if we were going to be shoving our way through Jimmy Buffet looking tourists all day. We saw a giant sign for a place called Senor Frogs and figured that place was as good as any!

Little did we know what Senor Frogs had in store for us...

You see, what started as an innocent (and rather expensive) lunch trip:

Quickly turned into:

Drink. Drank. Drunk.

APPARENTLY Senor Frogs is THE go-to party spot on the island of St. Thomas. 

I'm not sure what they spiked our $20 Pina Coladas with...but we definitely got our moneys-worth because when Sarah and I heard the DJ announce free shots for anyone who could successfully toss a beanbag into a hole, we literally flew out of our chairs to volunteer ourselves. The DJ (pictured above pouring copious amounts of alcohol down our throats) handed us three bean bags each...giving us three chances to sink them and redeem our prize. 

First bean bag - miss. 
Second bean bag - miss. 
Third bean bag - thrown so far away from the goal that it's probably lost in the Caribbean seas right now.

No free shots for us...
...or so we thought.

The DJ celebrated like we had swished each and every bag through the target. "YOU WIN! 5 FREE SHOTS FOR BOTH OF YOU!" Sarah and I were confused...but who were we to be rude and turn down this generous pity prize for the American girls with no aim. 5 shots each...down the hatch.


Sarah and I looked at each other, again confused...We lost the bean bag game (quite embarrassingly, in fact) but this DJ was still pouring alcohol at our faces...must be sort of American translation issue, we thought. Regardless, he continued to pour. And pour and pour and pour. After guzzling our body weight in free shots, we started giving our shots away. A handful for Joe and one Big Gulp for this guy with a balloon hat.

Because you get awfully generous when you're drunk.
You're Welcome.

After that binge drinking episode (all within about 10 minutes), Joe urged us to take it easy...have a seat and enjoy our enormous $40 appetizer. We followed his voice of reason and tried to soak up the rum with chicken tenders and quesadillas. While we were eating, the DJ had moved on and was now standing on top of the bar...corralling volunteers for his next attempt to give a tourist alcohol poisoning - a Mexican dancing competition.  

The goal: do your best Mexican style dance to Mexican style music...when the music stops, take a shot of tequila and holler like a Mexican. Once everyone got their turn, the winner would be chosen by the amount of applause they received from the audience. 

As we watched the contestants dance and ate our taquitos, Sarah looked at me with disgust and said, "Have these people ever seen Mexicans dance? I mean, everyone knows you USE YOUR ARMS." She did her interpretation of a Mexican hand gesture which caught the attention of Mr. DJ who challenged her, "You think you can do better? Come on up!" Sarah was hesitant at first, but Joe and I told her she totally had it in the bag and next thing you know, there she was...on top of the bar bopping around to Mexican music. Challenge accepted.

Her dance was on point and her Mexican battle-cry, although stifled by tequila, was extremely convincing. Like I said, she had it in the bag. Once all the contestants had finished their jigs, the DJ lined them all up and hovered his hands over their heads, telling the audience to clap for their favorite Mexican. The old lady and 16 year old boy were eliminated immediately (duh).


It was down to Sarah and some other wannabe Mexican chick. I wish I could say it was close, but Sarah won by a landslide. The audience of old man tourists hooted and hollered for Sarah...not to mention the drunken screams and cheers coming from myself alone. Poor Joe...we petite ladies just can't hang with shots on shots on shots.

SURPRISE. You win more free shots!

Needless to say, once we left Senor Frogs, our shopping trip was less than enjoyable. Walking around the shops of Charlotte Amalie in the hot sun, with shots upon shots upon shots sloshing around in our bellies, we became just as uncomfortable and grumpy as we were before we went to Senor Frogs in the first place. Even despite leaving our shopping trip-turned day drinking extravaganza hammered, dehydrated, and on the verge of vomiting...this excursion remains one of the top five moments on my highlight reel from our stay in St. Thomas. Between the Lady Gaga sighting, getting shots poured into my mouth, and watching Sarah bust a Mexican move...what more could you ask for??

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