This is a repost of one of the first stories I wrote for this blog. I need to write about Thelma and Louise again soon. But in the meantime, I thought some of you would enjoy reading this now that you have gotten to know us a bit better.
O.K. we have to admit, sometimes our funny stories roll out of the M-O-S-T embarrassing of situations; we are sure many of you girlfriends out there can relate. This particular running-to-the-bathroom-story is so embarrassing that we have made a pact with each other to never let out which one of us it happened to because, well, you will TOTALLY understand when you get to the end...
Let's just say there is a hotel cleaning lady in Mexico still cursing our names. It all started in 2003 with a trip we took to Ft. Lauderdale (There are some stories there too!) when we spent the week talking about going parasailing but never did. Once we arrived back home, we both regretted not taking advantage of the opportunity to fly high over the ocean. We promised each other and ourselves that if the moment ever presented itself again, we'd dive right in and not let it pass. Ok, jump ahead four years--a wedding and a child later. We, along with our husbands, finally took that trip to Mexico we had been talking about for years. Before we even left, we decided this was it; we were going to parasail over the Carribbean. How beautiful and tranquil, right? So, finally the last day of our trip we did it, and it was an experience neither of us will ever forget. EVER.
Nerves were building as our scheduled parasailing time crept closer and closer. One of us even tried to back out, but, true to our friendship, the other part of the duo twisted her arm and reminded her of the promise she'd made years ago and guilted her into holding up her end of the bargain. (You thought I was going to say something sweet about providing support and encouragement, didn't you? Yeah, that didn't happen.) Our husbands, being the supportive men they are--who are we kidding; they wanted ammo on us--bought a seat on the boat. So there we were, on the boat full of people who were also going parasailing. After the first person took his turn, we were up. The guide had told us each turn would last around 15 minutes, what sign to make to come down early, and that they'd try to bring us in so we'd land on the platform but there was a chance we'd end up in the water. Getting into the air was no problemo; it was smooth sailing (after all of the screaming and prayers on the way up). Our experience started off as we had envisioned--beautiful and tranquil--then it all went south in more ways than one.
We couldn't have been in the air for more than five minutes, maybe not even that long, when it hit--quite literally. Have you ever seen Sex in the City: The Movie? Remember Charolette's experience in Mexico where she did everything she could to avoid consuming any of the water only, when she accidentally did, she went running for the nearest toilet only to find herself unable to hold it any longer? Well, we are here to tell you, those "Mexico Moments (MM)" really happen, and this one happened to one of us 500 feet into the air! So, there we were in quite the predicament. The "accident victim" begged the other one of us to make the sign for an early landing and prayed we'd end up with an ocean landing (Who cares about the possibility of attracting fish and maybe even sharks? Landing in the water might at least give us the chance to get out of this situation with a little dignity). No such luck. We landed on the platform and were welcomed by questioning looks from our husbands. We did the only safe thing we could do in that situation; we said one of us was feeling sick. Now the trick was to get the boat to the dock and fast. The problem? There was still one person on the boat who hadn't had their turn not to mention the guides who's English was limited. At this point we can't even recall how the conversation went, but somehow we convinced the driver we need to get back to shore. And as luck would have it, a couple on the boat with us told us of a close bathroom once we got to the dock--the VIP lounge.
We both took off to the VIP lounge as soon as the boat got to the dock. I'm pretty sure neither of us had ever run that fast. We burst through the lounge and into the restroom. Let's just say there was no salvaging the bathing suit--never mind the HOURS it took to find that suit--so luckily she was wearing a cover up as well. And then another "MM" hit. She was in luck, right? We were in a restroom with a toilet right there. Well, if you have ever been to Mexico, you know the toilets don't flush like they do here. (At least this has been our experience.) So to make a long story short the toilet got stopped up. So there we were, one of us sick at this point, a toilet full of well, you know, and a RUINED bathing suit. What do you do in that situation? No amount of life experience could prepare you for this, right? Like any good girl would do, we PANICKED. (Here is where the bathing suit cover up came in handy since the swimsuit was now IN THE TOILET right along with--well, you know.) We ran out of the VIP lounge as fast as we could and across the resort to our rooms, where we stayed for the next three hours. We just knew somehow the hotel people would find the culprits.
Now we are sure you understand why we wish to keep this story anonymous. We promise this really happened; we couldn't make this story up if we tried.
