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my puerto rico trip report: the exciting conclusion

2006-10-26 - 2:37 p.m.

Tuesday, October 24

Today we did a slow drive back to the snooty casino, which had invited us to stay and dine at their place. As we headed out down Hwy 116, what to our wondering eyes did appear but a sizeable flock of feral Helmeted Guineafowl.

We did a final peek into the Guanica dry forest, but the only warblers around were the Adelaide's, so we decided to seek out the natural hot springs at Coamo. Don't believe everything you read, Bunky. Instead of splendid isolation on a weekday morning in low season, we had a three ring circus with all three rings operating, including a police officer, a guy with a cart selling refreshments, even a restroom and changing room. Yes, it was free and open to the public, and all the world knew it too. Not at all the peaceful, secret oasis the guidebook described.

We beat a hasty retreat past the huge golf course where we noticed a male Pin-Tailed Whydah in full dress and streamers doing his dance for the female. He put on quite a show and wasn't inhibited at all by our presence. His only focus was to impress the lady.

We next drove around the winding roads of Carite, which was very scenic and green, but we struck out there for birds. It was partly the time of day and partly the thick cover that made any singing birds difficult to see. A raptor -- I think a Buteo -- soared out over the ridgeline at one point, but we couldn't get parked safely fast enough to get a good look.

Onward to our hotel, where I updated my diary in the heat of the afternoon, then went for a stroll on the beach. I wore my dragonlady dress to dinner, and I'm glad I went all out, because the host stopped by to meet and greet as well as to tell the restaurant that he was picking up the tab. It was the Japanese restaurant, and we got our own hibachi chef/show all to ourselves. Going on the assumption that a real Japanese person would drink hard liquor with dinner, I had a Mojito. My appetizer was soft-shelled crab, and the main event was filet and scallops. We could have ordered more drinks or even dessert, but honestly I didn't have room for another bite.

Later, in the casino, D. met one of his fans, who D. says appears to have read every word he'd ever written. It wasn't a planned meeting. It was a, "Hey, are you D? Can we have drinks?" kind of thing. The price of fame!

Wednesday, October 25

The San Juan airport was a little odd. You had to have your bags checked by the USDA for whatever, but we didn't know it, so we tried to check our luggage and then had to go back and get inspected and try again. Then there was a lady still grabbing liquids and people's baggies of toiletries. What the--?

Since I knew perfectly well that the TSA allows for a baggie full of 3 ounce or smaller items, I didn't surrender my liquids. I just went on through without declaring anything. They must have seen it on the X-ray, but all they did was take it aside and open up the bag and swab it. My bag didn't explode, and I got to keep my moisturizer. So I was happy, and they were happy. But I guess if you want to volunteer to give up your toothpaste, you can. But don't forget -- when lipstick is outlawed, only outlaws will have lipstick.

At some point, I had to hold D's bag, and I must have grabbed it wrong, because my back was really bothering me. I'm afraid an Ibuprofen and an inflight Bloody Mary was my remedy for that. Don't try this at home.

Again, I had nobody in the middle seat from San Juan to Houston, so I was able to spread out and get some sleep. Poor D. did have a middle seat lady. He doesn't know it, but at one point he was so conked out asleep that when she nudged him so she could get out and use the bathroom, she couldn't wake him. I couldn't wake him, either. So we just let him snooze for awhile.

Our plane was delayed just long enough to make us miss our connection. When we got to Houston, the lady was telling everyone to go to their gate. So, even though we were fairly far back in the airplane (silly free tickets!), there was no line. She told us to go to gate C39 -- on the other side of the airport -- and I suggested that the door was already closed on that aircraft and that there was no point. An older lady overheard and told her to call that gate. Yeah. The door was closed. Damn, I'm good. The older lady then re-issued new boarding passes, so we could stroll onto a plane only a few gates away (instead of halfway across the moon). That plane actually left early, so we arrived in New Orleans only a few minutes after the original time. Not too shabby, huh?

And everybody else had to rush to their gate, "officially" miss their plane, and then go back and get new boarding passes. Ha. Sometimes I impress even myself.

DH and I had dinner at Lamarque's, where I had a dirty martini and a pot au feu. It was so huge that I had it again, reheated beautifully, for lunch and for breakfast, today.

Oh, and about that barracuda. I sort of guess I didn't catch that thing or the lobsters either. A man was so excited by his catch that, as a brag, he asked me if I wanted to pose for a picture with them. How could I have the heart to refuse? Damn, that fish was heavy. Maybe that's how I hurt my back. But not to worry. I'm all better now.

In the News: Cheney has just admitted that water-boarding torture is used on detainees, and he doesn't have a problem with it. Didn't we used to call this the Chinese water torture? Perhaps we'd better change the name. Is this America where even the highest in the land thinks torture is cool?

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