Dumb and Dumber Day

DSC05167poolside.JPG

This blog entry about the events of Tuesday, February 10, 2004 was originally posted on February 13, 2004.

DAY 115:  I don’t know if was the daze and confusion of a slight hangover from partying the night before, but all day Lara and I just acted silly and stupid like Harry and Lloyd in 1994’s Dumb and Dumber.

MY MORNING STARTED groggily in time for breakfast in the cafeteria, where I met Oren.  The Israeli proved to me once again how small the world is; he had family in my hometown of Teaneck, NJ and grew up in a house across the street from the club Jimmy’s in Morristown, NJ where I had been to a couple of times.  We chatted a bit until I met up with Lara at poolside (picture above).  Both of us were still dazed and confused, but content with the sunny new day.

Lara set out and sunbathed while I struggled at a table with my journal without much motivation — but I kept on going anyway until I was all up to schedule, at least by hand.  Lara was attacked by mini-Lara, a five-year-old staying in her dorm room with her mother that absolutely loved that Lara had the same name as her — making Lara her new best friend.  Mini-Lara jumped on her back in the pool, making Lara’s morning a little harder to overcome from the night before.

Meanwhile outside the pool, I noticed the German pair from our tour — one portly older woman and a younger late-teen boy — who everyone assumed as mother and son — until I noticed the latter rub suntan lotion all over the former.  Turned off, I thought they might be something else and shared my theories with Lara when I joined her in the pool, keeping my stitched-up head above water.

“You think they’re doing it?” Lara said like a schoolgirl.

“Oh, c’mon… awww… you just put an image in my head.”

The questionable Germans entered the pool and continued their ambiguous behavior.  One glance over to them and Lara and I couldn’t stop giggling like immature school children.

“I dunno, maybe it’s his ‘special’ aunt,” I said.

“Shhh… I think the guy speaks English.”


THE TWO OF US ALLOTTED THE DAY to just be lazy and figure out what to do the next day.  We had the idea of going into Asuncion, Paraguay for a couple of days as it was only five hours away by bus, so we decided to go into town to the international bus station to investigate.  I took three public buses to get there, which took a lot of waiting, which meant a lot of time for random things to pop in our heads like the characters in the Farrelly brothers movie.

“The Vengabus is coming, the Vengabus is coming…” Lara started singing even before the bus was ever in sight.  I joined in with the bassline and melody only to have the other people ignore us with deadpan faces.  I continued to sing randomly Crazy Town’s “Butterfly” since the day before (“Come my lady, come come my lady, you’re my butterfly, sugar, baby…”), but nothing topped Lara’s constant rendition of Montell Jordan’s “This is How We Do it,” followed by her dancing The Running Man.

“Thi-is is how we do-o i-it…” she’d start off and then go into the dance made popular by M.C. Hammer in the early 1990s.


ON THE SECOND BUS RIDE INTO TOWN, we giggled about the sleeping woman on the bus that looked like she had three boobs and then got on the third bus to the international terminal.  We found a bus that would take us into Paraguay and gave our passports for the purchase of tickets.

“[North American?  You need a visa,]” the guy informed me.

After inquiries at an information booth, we discovered that I needed to wait on-line at the Paraguayan consulate with a proof of exit, money and the visa fee of $45 — I felt it wasn’t worth the hassle for a mere two-day jaunt for the sake of a passport stamp.  I told Lara she could go without me — Brits get in with no problem — but she decided to blow it off and find some other adventure on the coast with me. 


AFTER AN EARLY STEAK DINNER at our usual sidewalk cafe in town — complete with our usual confusion trying to decipher the menu — our Dumb and Dumber day continued when we walked towards the supermarket.

“Thi-is is how we do-o i-it…” Lara started up again with her Running Man dance in the middle of the road.

“Uh, stop,” I said.

She kept going.

“Uh, hold up,” I said.  “Cars.  Cars are coming.”

Lara stopped her dance, looked over at the oncoming traffic and moved before almost getting run over.  I told her it was a shame she didn’t because then she could have answered the stupid random question I asked her:  “Have you ever wondered what it feels like to be hit by a car?”


WE WENT INTO THE SUPERMARKET, the two 29-year-olds we were and bought frosted flakes, chocolate milk and ice cream like a couple of ten-year-olds.  We went back to the central terminal — where the sign that hit me had been rehung — and hopped on the bus back out of the city, passing by the local McDonald’s.

“A Pizza Hut, A Pizza Hut, Kentucky Fried Chicken and a Pizza Hut.  McDonald’s, McDonald’s, Kentucky Fried Chicken and a Pizza Hut,” Lara sang, remembering the silly British pop hit from the Fast Food Rockers.  Her songs were getting sillier and dumber, but I didn’t mind.

“Come my lady, come come my lady, you’re my butterfly, sugar, baby…” I’d come back with.

A couple of Running Mans later, we were back at the hostel and sat with the four British college girls who were still recuperating from their hangovers.  The girls called it an early night so I sat at the table with Justin, the Canadian from my dorm room, and chatted over caipirinhas.  I told him about the incident with me and the sign and showed him my stitches.

“Oh, I just thought [your barber] missed a spot.”


THREE BIG GROUPS FROM A BRITISH OVERLAND TOUR COMPANY had pulled into the hostel camp and filled the poolside bar area with dozens of people — it was like a Spring Break pool party.  As more drinks were consumed, the Brits started throwing each other into the pool with their clothes still on.

Exhausted, I left the party fairly early, but later learned that the rowdiness escalated to people throwing chairs and tables into the pool — there were also a lot of broken beer bottles.  I was content that I didn’t stay out late for all that — if I had been thrown in the pool with my head still in stitches, it would have made my Dumb and Dumber day just stupid.






Next entry: Race to Rio

Previous entry: Great Adventure




Commenting is not available in this channel entry.

Comments for “Dumb and Dumber Day”

  • hmmm…so they actively attempt to stop americans from entering the country, huh?

    sounds like a conspiracy…;)

    Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)  on  02/13  at  12:22 PM


  • frosted flakes, chocolate milk, and ice cream….mmmmmm….

    the breakfast of champions eaten any time of the day….

    Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)  on  02/13  at  12:44 PM


  • ANIN:  Yup…  somewhat of an anti-American mindset with some people…  this guy at the internet cafe gave me weird looks when I told him I was American… but they smile when you say you don’t like Bush…

    Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)  on  02/13  at  03:17 PM


  • I LOVE that pic of you under the sign! Instant Classic. I can’t believe you stood there with out your “helmet!”

    Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)  on  02/13  at  11:22 PM


  • Thi-is how we do-o it!

    Funny how you were singing that Lara!

    Aimee and I ran into Montell Jordan tonite at Ruth’s Chris in Philly!!

    The extent of my conversation is as follows:

    me - “excuse me please”

    montell - “sorry, ‘cuse me…”

    me - “thanks”

    Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)  on  02/14  at  03:05 AM


  • Jimmy’s—I remember when Erik got us kicked out for falling asleep at the bar

    Did I ever get to thank your for getting us kicked out? That place is horrible!

    Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)  on  02/14  at  07:18 PM


  • JENN:  Excuse me, it’s “passing out at the bar,” not “falling asleep.”  Oh, what the hell do I know, I was drunk.

    Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)  on  02/15  at  12:49 PM


  • Oh, now you’re serenading one another…yeah with hokey 80s tunes, but still. Can I puke now?!

    Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)  on  02/19  at  08:57 PM


back to top of page


SHARE THIS TRAVEL DISPATCH:


Follow The Global Trip on Twitter
Follow The Global Trip in Instagram
Become a TGT Fan on Facebook
Subscribe to the RSS Feed



This blog post is one of over 500 travel dispatches from the trip blog, "The Global Trip 2004: Sixteen Months Around The World (Or Until Money Runs Out, Whichever Comes First)," originally hosted by BootsnAll.com. It chronicled a trip around the world from October 2003 to March 2005, which encompassed travel through thirty-seven countries in North America, South America, Africa, Europe, and Asia. It was this blog that "started it all," where Erik evolved and honed his style of travel blogging — it starts to come into focus around the time he arrives in Africa.

Praised and recommended by USA Today, RickSteves.com, and readers of BootsnAll and Lonely Planet's Thorn Tree, The Global Trip blog was selected by the editors of PC Magazine for the "Top 100 Sites You Didn't Know You Couldn't Live Without" (in the travel category) in 2005.


Next entry:
Race to Rio

Previous entry:
Great Adventure




THE GLOBAL TRIP GLOSSARY

Confused at some of the jargon that's developed with this blog and its readers over the years? Here's what they mean:

BFFN: acronym for "Best Friend For Now"; a friend made on the road, who will share travel experiences for the time being, only to part ways and lose touch with

The Big Trip: the original sixteen month around-the-world trip that started it all, spanning 37 countries in 5 continents over 503 days (October 2003–March 2005)

NIZ: acronym for "No Internet Zone"; a place where there is little to no Internet access, thus preventing dispatches from being posted.

SBR: acronym for "Silent Blog Reader"; a person who has regularly followed The Global Trip blog for years without ever commenting or making his/her presence known to the rest of the reading community. (Breaking this silence by commenting is encouraged.)

Stupid o'clock: any time of the early morning that you have to wake up to catch a train, bus, plane, or tour. Usually any time before 6 a.m. is automatically “stupid o’clock.”

The Trinidad Show: a nickname of The Global Trip blog, used particularly by travelers that have been written about, who are self-aware that they have become "characters" in a long-running story — like characters in the Jim Carrey movie, The Truman Show.

WHMMR: acronym for "Western Hemisphere Monday Morning Rush"; an unofficial deadline to get new content up by a Monday morning, in time for readers in the western hemisphere (i.e. the majority North American audience) heading back to their computers.

1981ers: people born after 1981. Originally, this was to designate groups of young backpackers fresh out of school, many of which were loud, boorish and/or annoying. However, time has passed and 1981ers have matured and have been quite pleasant to travel with. The term still refers to young annoying backpackers, regardless of year — I guess you could call them "1991ers" in 2013 — young, entitled millennials on the road these days, essentially.




Spelling or grammar error? A picture not loading properly? Help keep this blog as good as it can be by reporting bugs.

The views and opinions written on The Global Trip blog are those of the author, and do not necessarily reflect the official views and opinions of the any affiliated publications.
All written and photographic content is copyright 2002-2014 by Erik R. Trinidad (unless otherwise noted). "The Global Trip" and "swirl ball" logos are service marks of Erik R. Trinidad.
TheGlobalTrip.com v.3.6 is powered by Expression Engine v2.8.1