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From time to time, a girl needs a vacation. After the whole “public sex in a bathroom stall” debacle, it was as though the majestic Caribbean was calling my name – and on a college budget, a day cruise to the Bahamas out of Miami was the perfect solution.  Although it wasn’t a chartered yacht, it would suffice for the time being. (Full disclosure: I lived in Miami at the time - so the Caribbean was always calling my name.)

The boat was one of those leave at 6 am, spend 4-5 hours on the island, be back by 10pm deals, so we figured – what could go wrong? Drink a little, gamble a little, and explore a little, back to our apartment in time to get ready for the night out. So simple.  

I could tell it was a mistake to go on this thing after the first ten minutes of being on board. Glamour and Hurricane immediately had gone to the top deck to scout us some prime chairs while Normal and I had found the closest bar and were downing mimosas. As we made our way up to the top deck to meet Glamour and Hurricane, we could hear the erratic screams of over-enthused frat boys. Not a good sign.

We rounded the corner of the Sun Deck to find Glamour and Hurricane surrounded by a group of guys – who looked to at least be out of college, but who can be sure? Hurricane was in the middle of shot gunning beers while Glamour was already eye-fucking the shit out of some guy standing across from her. Normal and I promptly plopped down to enjoy the show.

Normal and I had been lounging, watching the scene unfold in front of us for about 20 minutes, when Glamour abruptly went missing. Figuring she had gone off with that guy, I assumed she was fine. The first part of the cruise still had another two hours; I figured she’d re-emerge eventually at some point before then. Hurricane on the other hand, was a different story.

At this point we had been on the boat for about an hour, and Hurricane was a fucking mess. She had shot gunned four beers, and had started to think she was a mermaid. Being the good friends that we are, Normal and I laid her down on an empty chair, and she promptly dozed off. 

“Fuck it, let’s go to the casino. I’m over these young guys.” Normal said, antsy to make some moves.

I agreed, and followed her lead as we made our way down to the boat casino (Neptune’s Ca-SEA-No … get it? That’s the kind of glamorous ship we were dealing with). We sat down at an empty blackjack table and began playing. It wasn’t long before a crowd had gathered around us (we are sexy as fuck, after all), and we were winning big. We were also a little buzzed, but well-hydrated from the free drinks provided by the lovely casino staff. 

After about an hour, we made our way back up to the sun deck in search of our friends, up about $400. Hurricane was still passed out, and Glamour was still nowhere to be found.

 “What do you want to do about Glamour?” I asked Normal.

 “She’s gotta be on the boat somewhere – let’s just go find her.

Irritated that I’d have to roam around the boat looking for this bitch, I suggested that if she wasn’t back by the time we docked, then we’d just wait at the ship’s entrance for her. Normal, not wanting to look for that little slut either, agreed.

Of course, we rolled up to the island about a half hour later, with a semi-conscious Hurricane but still no Glamour. We headed down and got off the boat, and waited around for the girl for about 20 minutes. Still a no show. Figuring she had just decided to spend the day with that guy, Normal and I shoved Hurricane in the car with us and demanded the driver take us to the nearest beach.

By the time we arrived at the beach, Hurricane was back to her coherent self. The beach was empty, so we sprawled our shit out, popped open our beers, and frolicked around in the water for a little while. Eventually, Hurricane got bored, and demanded that we accompany her for a walk down the beach in search of Columbia’s finest.

“You want to bring coke back with us in international waters? Are you fucking crazy?” Normal demanded upon hearing this plan.

“Well, we’ll just grab a gram a piece and do it all before we get on the boat” Hurricane replied.

“Okay, just wanted to be clear about the plan.” Normal said. And with that, we were off.

As we walked down the beach, it became clear that Hurricane was on a mission. The girl proceeded to walk up to each and every single hair-braider, faux-bag seller, and just general beach vendor demanding that they sell her what she was looking for. When nobody handed over the goods, Hurricane got even more determined.

“Hurricane, maybe we should just go grab lunch, no one has it. We don’t even need it – we have some at home. What’s the big deal?” I whined, out of beers.

“Yeah come on, I’m over it, let’s go eat.” Normal chimed in.

"Fuck you fucking bitches. If you don’t want to help me score illegal drugs on some random beach on some random island, then FINE. I’ll just do it myself.” Hurricane snapped.

 “Just as long as you meet us at our towels by 3:30, do you girl!” I said cheerily. “Come on, Normal. Let’s find some food.” 

It took us about two minutes to locate the nearest restaurant – a classy little joint right on the beach that served us Coronas and pizza to our heart’s content. The place was empty, so we were able to bask in our own fabulousness and indulge ourselves without the prying eyes of the general public,

Somewhere around our fifth Corona, we realized it was 3:15, so we grabbed the check and headed back to our towels. Shortly after we arrived at the designated meeting point, we saw Hurricane barreling down the beach. 

“I got it, I got it!” she exclaimed.

“Great, just in time to get back on the boat and go through customs you fucking idiot.” I replied.

“Are you going to complain or are you going to help me get it done?” Hurricane snipped back at me.

Normal, knowing what my answer would be, already had a key ready. 

“Let’s go – bump it out. We gotta get back to the boat.”

We stood there for about another 10 minutes, passing the key around, making a pretty big dent in the bag – but certainly not using all of it.

“Okay, I’m just gonna sneak the rest in in my bra” Hurricane said.

“That’s dumb, you’re going to get caught, and we’re not coming to bail you out when you do. But if you sneak it back, I want some.” Normal told her. 

There was a cab shortage, and we were running behind, so we hopped in one of those taxi vans with a miscellaneous mother and her two daughters. I was up front, Normal and the mom in the middle, and Hurricane and the other two girls in the way back. We pulled out, headed for the ship.

The ride was pretty uneventful, until all of a sudden the mother let out one of the loudest screams I’ve ever heard.

“WHAT ARE YOU FUCKING DOING YOU FUCKING BITCH?” she screamed. 

I turned to look at Normal, trying to figure out if this woman had tourrettes or what, that’s when I saw Hurricane, Tory Burch sandal in hand, beating the woman over the head with it. 

“Hurricane, what the fuck are you doing?! Put your sandal down!” I yelled.

“GET THAT WHITE GIRL OUT OF MY CAB” screamed the taxi driver.

“SHE’S TRYING TO STEAL MY AURA” screeched Hurricane. 

Normal, always thinking on her feet, dove into the backseat, tackling Hurricane and the two other girls in the process. The cab driver pulled over and told us in no uncertain terms to get the fuck out.

“Please, we’re three minutes from the ship – can you just take us back to it sir?” I pleaded “I’m so sorry – would you switch seats with me, and then we can all head back to the ship on time, and go our separate ways?” I gave my best puppy dog eyes to the recently-assaulted mother, who found it in her heart to agree. We Chinese fire-drilled, and got back to the ship on time - Normal still in the back pinning down a lunatic Hurricane.

After paying a small fortune to the cab driver, we exited the cab (mother and children running for cover) and stepped off to the side to try and regroup. 

“Hurricane, you need to calm the fuck down. You’re acting like a god damn banshee right now.” Normal tried to reason with her.

“That woman was trying to steal my aura and see into my soul.” Hurricane insisted.

“No. You’re fucked up on coke and who knows what else you’re on right now, and you’re imagining that. Both your soul and your aura are intangible and no one can steal or see them, I promise.” I said calmly. “Now, security is starting to notice that you’re a fucking mess – you need to pull yourself together, take my hand, and follow me up to the sun deck where we’re going to have a nice boat ride back home.” 

“Okay, fine. But if anyone tries anything – I’ll cut a bitch.” Hurricane said, more calm this time.

The three of us got in line, passports in hand, and made it through security, barely. Within the first 10 steps back on the boat, Hurricane lost her footing and fell into a security guard, face first. Luckily, Normal was right behind her and grabbed her before the guy knew what had hit him, and we vanished into the depths of the boat.

We managed to make it back to the top deck without any more mortifying events, and once in her chair, Hurricane laid back with her headphones waiting for the sky to darken so we could look at stars and name the constellations. Luckily, she had forgotten about the leftovers hidden in her left teet. 

With all of the excitement, I had totally forgotten about Glamour, who was still nowhere to be found. 

“Where the fuck is Glamour?” Normal was obviously on the same wavelength.

“I don’t know, have you seen those guys she was with anywhere?” I replied.

“Yeah, I think I saw them all out on the snack bar deck.” 

“Okay, go look. I’ll wait with Hurricane. Bring me back a double vodka tonic.” And with that, Normal was off.

After about 20 minutes, Normal returned, a sheepish looking Glamour in tow.

“Where the fuck did you find this girl, the brig?” I asked, not knowing which I was more relieved about: the vodka tonic or the sight of my friend.

“Infirmary. She broke the guys’ penis.” 



Occured: sometime between 2006-2010.

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