Archive | January, 2012

Ghetto Deer

16 Jan

I propose that this be Kevin Durant’s new nickname and that they show this video every time he’s coming out of a timeout to hit a game-winning jumper.

Day 18 Costa Rica Retroactive Diary: Homebound

16 Jan

No better way to spend your 32nd birthday

No better way to spend your 32nd birthday

Drinking OJ and vodka last night as the lights were staring me in the face. My summer is over. Time to go back to Tulsa winter. The hostel is super nice. The middle of downtown in a sketchy part of town yet the Alajuela Backpacker’s hostel is a haven from it all. Down the street from a grocery store it is fairly convenient in its location. There is also a shuttle that will take you to the airport. Had a good trip over with the Portland gals. We had a lot of laughs and got some good scenery taken in. I developed a little crush on one of them, Lisa. She actually saved my ass because I didn’t figure in the exit fee for my budget and was in danger of being stuck in the country with no money. Feeling good going back though.

My Minnesota friend flew in with me to Denver. Customs was a real bitch. They gave me shit for some bean dip I had in my bag. The dogs were going crazy over it. Little did I know that Mr. Minnesota suck in a gram of pure grade nose candy in the bottom of his shoe. How about that?

Returning home darker, stronger, slimmer and ready to pounce on the first piece of ass available. Good thing my concubine is picking me up at the airport. My masculinity affirmed and embraced with this trip. I thought this would quench my thirst for travel but it only enhanced it. But I certainly got my money’s worth and could see that a lot of good had come from the trip. Now that I was okay spiritually, it was time to take care of some physical needs.

She approached me at the baggage claim and we awkwardly embraced.


Day 17 Costa Rica Retroactive Diary: Winding down

16 Jan

A certain recklessness is embraced and encouraged down here. Babies riding on the back of dirt motor bikes and ATV vehicles. In the streets of Cobano where I had to catch my bus there was a large throng of people watching this street fight (the street was actually a dirt road…and this was downtown) between an old man and a schizophrenic homeless dude. The old man was belt whipping the mother fucker as the townspeople ran in droves to see the spectacle. Drunk men were cheering, little kids were laughing, women with babies were gawking excitedly in the street. The sun hadn’t even gone down yet either, this was 5:00 in the afternoon. Everything is so unregulated down here. I had suddenly realized that I hadn’t seen a police officer the whole time I’d been down here–though I was sure they existed, right?

Sometimes the waves are perfect, sometimes they are choppy and difficult to navigate. The key is learning each time you get out there and knowing when to cut things loose. My trip is about to be over. Hitching a ride to Alajuela with these Portland women. I met them surfing the other day and ran into to them the night before while at a restaurant with these three Finnish chicks and the Minnesota dude.

The girls need an interpreter and some muscle. They’d had their car broken into out in St. Teresa—they day they’d met me actually. How funny life was. Everything was going to be alright

Day 16 Costa Rica retroactive diary

16 Jan

Built a huge fire “Texas A& M style”. Huge washed up logs thrown into the burn. Sparks arising like fire flies among the burning smoke and night sky. We swam in our natural state. Diving beneath the crashing waves farther and farther away from the distant shore.

Free deep and naked into the swells. Away from practically everything I knew. Couldn’t be further away from those other realities. The frigid snowstorms back in Tulsa, the stuffy upbringing of my hometown of Dallas. We were  in Costa Rica, swimming naked with sharks. Our kindred spirits floated back to the sand, looking for her top. My clothes were far enough away from the water that they weren’t carried away by the crest.

Later that night I saved her from a lurking scorpion. I only saw the shadow before it crept out into the light—like Medusa in the original ‘Clash of the Titans’ movie. I yelled out her name and she leaped into the arms of the guy next to her—this derelict from Minnesota named A—-. And there she stayed for a while. And I had the feeling I’d been scooped for the night. Around 4 AM I went back to the cabin and gave this buxom Dutch girl a foot massage. I hadn’t blown my load in over 2 weeks. I wasn’t sure how long I could hold it in. Couldn’t wait to get back to my concubine waiting for me in the states. I was going to wear her out.

I had a rather interesting encounter earlier that day. Met a beautiful Argentine who I spent the day with. We laid on the beach on talked as best as we could. She was quite charming and spry. She reminded me of an old Canadian friend I once had. Met her when I was trying to surf out in St. Teresa. The current was too strong so I ended up just chilling, watching the sunset. Women were really eating up my Texas accent. The Texan Spaniard bit was killing…..


Ahh what a lovely girl that Beben. Beautiful eyes. She came from a family of lawyers in Argentina. The only daughter in the family. So out of my league.

So out of my hemisphere.

the lovely beben

Day 15 of Costa Rica Rectroactive Diary: Reaching Nirvana

16 Jan

Slept really good the night before. Drank good. Ate good. Good company with this gal from Colorado. Smoked hash all day, drank rum and cokes. Spent the evening on the beach with some of my favorite people from the hostel. Omar, James, Lauren, Adam, Mike from Brooklyn. Lauren and I shared a Cuban. One of the beach bums got really drunk and came out with a machete, but was intercepted by a random 5’4 Buddhist white guy in white robes also camping on the beach. Very strange indeed.

Without a doubt the best birthday I’d ever had.

“You can’t reach Nirvana. To reach for something intuits going outside of one’s self. Nirvana is a matter of being.”

Got my reservations together for the weekend of my departure—get in on Saturday—watch the championships on that Sunday. Pretty tired. 2 weeks has always been my limits for being out on the road before my body goes kaput! Today is day 15 though. I don’t want to talk to anyone at this point, not especially in Spanish. Just translating inside my head makes my brain hurt.

Starting to pine for the warmth of my sleeping bag and the bosom of my lady friend.

Day 14 Costa Rica Retroactive Diary

16 Jan

The howler monkeys were in full effect that morning. Lots of fun the night before. I probably should’ve gone to the all -you- can- eat sushi event at the hostel, but I needed to be alone with my thoughts. i was considering staying another day on this side then leaving  for the other side of the peninsula.

Scene was fun and crazy in a way just like college. Happy 32nd to me, as old as Marcus Allen’s jersey number. It was a good night though out by the waves in Montezuma beach, smoking Cubans with Humboldt Mike and Sac-town Matt.

They noticed me earlier smoking on a stogie, walking in downtown Montezuma happily contemplating my mortality.

Humboldt Mike:

“Hey man, you think I could trade you some bud for a Cuban.”

Me (taking a puff and looking into the stars:“Sure man.”

Matt: “You think you’d give us two for some bud and some hash?”

I was the hit of the party when I got back to the hostel. Everything Humboldt mike had given me was legit. He said he’d stashed the shit in his drawers and brought it across. I didn’t believe the risk was worth the reward but I was glad he smuggled it in. He had some fire.

Happy Fucking Birthday to Me!!!

Yeah this trip turned out to be the best decision I could’ve made.