First we went to the land of many boats.
And then we got on one of said boats. (and got up the courage to post a picture of myself in a bikini. on my blog. on the internet. boom.)
I'm on a boat!
The water glistened (but not because of bugs). So blue. So pretty.
We snorkeled. And yes, I snorkeled too, but you can't quite bring your dSLR in the water.
We both snorkeled. Here's proof that Mike swam with the fishes (and lived to tell about it).
(Haha I'm so funny)
Of course, no boat trip on any Caribbean island water is complete without a stop by a bar disguised as a theme restaurant.
We floated up to Margaritaville and their 120 foot slide:
Shortly after Mike's plunge down the tube of fear, he tried convincing me do the same. Having a distaste for extreme heights and all things irrational, I quickly
We got back on the boat.
And then some crazy lady with full makeup, a skinny boot-ay, and an entourage also got on the boat. I did what any rational woman would do in this position: immediately started dishing out shallow, catty remarks. She obviously needed a cheeseburger. or three.
Who did this lady think she was? And why was she on our tourist boat? All pretty and thin and... oh my word is she Selena Gomez? A buzz started to spread amongst the commoners. I'm not a teenage girl so I have no clue what Selena Gomez really looks like. Maybe she could be Selena Gomez because there were big cameras following her and taping some sort of interview.
lady in charge of her every move manager announced they were looking for 3 backup dancers. Now this part still gets me: why ask three, white, American tourists to be your backup dancers?! Clearly someone needed to look better than us. So I did what any "normal," quiet adventure seeking person with a dance background would do: volunteered. I love to dance. I love to perform. I love the camera. I hate water slides.
Then this happened:
Dancing. On a boat. In Jamaica. Being taped.
I wish my cute, little black coverup showed up better in pictures. Alas, I landed on Jamaican Reality TV, strutting my stuff. In the Dance serves as Jamaica's version of Soul Train meets So You Think You Can Dance. They travel around the island, searching for unsuspecting volunteers to teach a routine to and then film dancing! Dancers can also tape themselves and send in the video. Then back in the studio people gather to learn the same move and poof, you have an episode. I have yet to find our American-boat-dancing segment, but be certain I check their website on the regular.
Oh and that way too cute girl who I'd love to hate?
Rosina Casserly, the host, is a lovely, unmistakably cute, woman with a killer accent. (cue controlled jealousy) I only hold a tiny grudge for how great she looks next to me in this picture. Then I remind myself how much makeup and assistants she had, and how I spent the day snorkeling and dancing. I bet she hates water slides too. (and eww huge beer gut in the background of our lovely picture!)
At the end of the day, it matters not how you look, but rather your experiences and the memories you make with those you love.
I didn't see Mike volunteer to dance, though.