Birthdaze 2 part 2
Blanketed in a rum soaked haze, and still wearing my banana suit from the night before, i stumbled through reception the next morning. Red eyed, the majority of the posse was waiting on a picnic bench, smoking cigarettes, and sipping coffee. Some had gotten sleep, a few still hadn't, Jay had disappeared into the night. The clock ticked, our excursion a little over an hour away. Before i could get the sleep rubbed from my eyes, a cup of joe, and a stack of banana pancakes with giant, waxy, household candle jammed through the middle clattered in front of me. Despite my reluctance to celebrate with traditional tropes, and unnecessary charades, i was touched when my friends began to sing again, and blew out my candle. Before i could have a sip of the jet black elixir Caleb poured a hefty slug of rum into my mug, kissed my forehead, and wished me another happy birthday. The days were beginning to mirror each other.
Half an hour later, our bills paid, we collected our things and stuffed our bags into the hostel's storage. From there we could only wait. As if on cue Jay strolled up barefoot, covered in mud with a big smile on his face. Behind him our tour company's van turned onto the street.
Miles unceremoniously handed Jay and we welcomed our friend, while the door slid open. Our guide's face dropped as he took in our group. Still in my dirty banana suit, and a few others decked out in what can only be described as thrift shop vomit, i can't say i blame him. "You can't drink on the rafting trip!" the little man barked as he stepped out.
His request reasonable, we did the polite thing, raised our drinks, knocked them back, and gathered our things. The colour of his face deepened with anger. In contrast, Saffron's eyes lit up and she mouthed the name 'Frodo' with glee from behind his tiny shoulders. It was around nine am, we were intoxicated, and in an unfortunate coincidence we watched the Lord of the Rings the day before. The little guy's frustrations were completely valid. With a loud huff he rattled off a roll call, and much to his dismay, we were all present. "Where's your shoes?" Frodo demanded at Jay.
"Don't have any."
"Actually that's a good idea," i interjected, and took off mine. "i won't need these at the river, soggy shoes are the worst."
A few others nodded in agreement as Frodo got more irate. "You need shoes! We have lockers!"
Caleb rushed to the rescue, and schmoozed the situation while we dropped our loafers back in the cloak room. Frodo surrendered and we boarded our van. We were the last group to get picked up, the others clearly staying at the fancy resorts, and Frodo immediately began taking potshots at us. Fluent in sarcasm, the meagre insults rolled off our backs and we took the words with grace, letting the wee one have his moment. The road led us through the jungle, Frodo sharing facts and tidbits as we drove onwards, his blood pressure dropping with our good behaviour. As his back turned to point out howler monkeys Miles cracked another beer. Frodo's head whipped around, met with only dumb looks until he went back to his speel. The can and a small bottle of smuggled rum passed under his line of sight until our arrival.
The jungle floor was soft and lush. It was a small hike from the parking lot to the riverside, Frodo kept zinging our group as he introduced the other raft guides and gave us their safety instructions, hyping up the incredible Level Five rapids. He organized us into groups, making sure to keep us separate from the precious normies. While he encouraged the others to come up with a group name, we were deemed teem Sucio (dirty in Spanish), and we followed his cackles to the water.
There were six boats between the lot of us. Team Sucio had to divide over two rafts. With my lifejacket tightened snug around my banana suit i was all smiles as i climbed in. It was quite a scene. Exotic birds singing, a gorgeous cool river, lush jungle above, close friends, and thrilling rip ahead. Things had turned out.
Beside us Frodo glided over for one more snide remark as the other groups departed. Miles whipped his paddle to the river and splashed him, then yelled "Water fight!" and wacked water our way, camouflaging his intention. Mayhem ensued. Our personal guides were loving it, though the flying water only stoked our smouldering Frodo's fury.
Riverrafting was a riot. Better than expected. Majestic, serene, thrilling. The rapids loomed. Fluttery butterflies in our stomachs inspired insipid, maniacal laughter and as we tumbled through the rapids. Water churned and splashed as we paddled, the thick rubber rafter bouncing over boulders, rocking over the river. Monkeys, parrots, snakes, our journey scratched the itch for adventure that my inner child had been Indiana Jonesing for since i was five. Forty-five minutes later we paused to sample pineapples growing along the riverside. By far the freshest, and best i have ever eaten.
As we set off i saw Frodo whisper something over to our guides from the back of the rafts. The following swells built and built as we rocketed forth. The grade fours grew to fives and we cackled through them.
Then, there was a sudden, unnatural lurch.
i'm not sure which i registered first, the cold rush of the river, or the tilt of the raft. i plunged deep, my soggy banana suit wrapped itself across my face, caught on the irony of my life preserver, as i battled the current, and fought for air. i broke the surface, to no relief, choking against the soft yellow fabric before i was sucked under again. Enough time passed where panic began to course through my veins, i changed my focus, instead fighting the rapids, i wrestled my feelings, until i could peel the faux banana from my face and paddle upwards.
With a big gulp of air i relaxed, looked to my right to see carefree Caleb drifting beside me, floating on his back with his hands behind his head enjoying the sunshine. As if he was Baloo from Disney's jungle book, not a care in the world, spurting water up from his lips like a geyser. "Ello, Jus! Isn't this lovely?"
Much to the dismay of our little monster, our gang was all smiles. Attempting to have the last laugh they'd flipped us on purpose, all to no avail. Frodo gloated that it was his duty to clean up Team Sucio to the other prissy tourists while we collected on a river bank and set forth. The trip ended with a large lunch, and a return to La Fortuna. A phenomenal day by all accounts, had only begun.
Our transition from our excursion to our next bus was seamless, our bags ready and waiting. Our next jaunt was wonderful. Coursing through the mountainside, a gentle putting ride on a small ferry across Lake Arenal, no one gave us gripe while we drank. Saffron and i took to the bow of the ship and reenacted the famous scene from Titanic, her filling Leonardo's role, and i, still in my drying banana suit, took Miss Hudson's, while we both belted Celine Dion's epic. We received a humorous round of applause as we returned our seats. Mindful of closing times, we convinced our driver to drop us outside Monteverde's famous adventure park.
We arrived with minutes to spare before the final jumps set forth. High above the cloud canopy, they bring you one hundred and sixty seven metres above the jungle floor in a cablecar. Pavi took one look at the contraption and was out with a hard no. Miles and Saffron tagged along with a different crew, while we watched from the view point with, you guessed it, had another round. Unlike the mornings outing, we were in good company. These attendants were young, rowdy, and happy to joke along, loving the banana suit from the moment we stepped in. To be fair, while we were far more intoxicated than the morning, we were holding it together a lot better. That, or, it was a lot less pronounced at four in the afternoon compared to the quiet of the morning in sleepy La Fortuna.
The madness of course did not stop there. Charles, Jay, and i went last in order to hatch our plan. While the park was onboard for me to jump in my costume they were less than enthused by Jay's request. At the end of our orientation, and safety demonstrations they asked for questions. Jay's hand sprang up immediately, "Can i jump naked?"
The men were dumbfounded, "No, no! Of course no! Next question."
Beneath the brief shadow of disappointment i heard Jay whisper "oh, i'm definitely jumping naked."
Knowing full well we were about to be booted from a second location in less than twenty four hours we organized ourselves to make sure each of us got our jumps in. Old pulleys screeched as we jolted our way high above the canopy in the iron cage. Jay sat sandwiched in between Caleb and i, ready to seize his moment. In his technocoloured ensemble Caleb jumped. His wild whoops caused enough of a diversion for Jorden to unclip his harnesses, strip, and reassemble himself. The speed that man undressed was astounding. Caleb returned, and our guides turned to signal Jay to stand.
Central America is not known to be the most liberal. The lack of gay culture was one of Pavi's major complaints. Not only with the locals, and nightlife, but even in backpacking circles. Poor, sweet, lonely Pavi was having a difficult time. The reasons why many avoid those regions became paramount under the spew of unhinged homophobic profanity that cascaded over Jay as he stood in all his glory. "Ya, ya, ya," he waved off their slurs unbothered in the slightest, "let's go boys, this is happening," and moved to the edge with his arms wide in a Christ pose as he waited for them to attach the bungee to his harness.
With a futile shrug, another bevy of curses, and some hysterical wincing faces, they relented, attached him and sent him sailing off over the edge into the yonder.
While i've long since gotten over my fear of heights, for a few minutes there i was legit frightened Caleb and i may die of laughter. Watching their faces, Jay's long locks waving to the heavens, as his little man flapped in the wind behind him as he swan dived down, was beyond funny. Even our perturbed hosts joined in the chuckles.
Jay received his clothing the moment he stepped back into the safety of the cage. i marched to the edge, ready to rock. Looking over an endless horizon of jungle i heard their locks clip to my safety harness. i was ecstatic. My birthday had shaped up to be much more of an adventure than i imagined. "Don't worry about a countdown, just tell me when i'm safe to jump and i'm good," i said.
"Ten! You ready?! Don't be scared!" i'd heard their tired spiel with Caleb, and didn't need it.
"Does that mean i'm good? Cause i'll j-"
"Nine! Ho! Ho! Get ready Banana Man!"
"i'm good, am i saf-"
"Eight!"
"Oh fuck it..." i kept my arms to my body, and stepped over the ledge, not bothering to leap.
Gravity did all the work for me. i took the form of my favourite dive, "The Salmon," and started squiggling as i plummeted. Treetops rocketed upwards, the wind rushed past my ears, deafening to a point of calm quiet. The moment that nagging thought crept in, wondering if i had in fact been safe to jump, i felt the cord catch. Everything slowed down as the elastic stretched, my eyes bulged outwards, until a quick snap slingshot me skyward. Flung and bouncing i kept squirming, until i pogoed to a standstill. i could hear cheers and laughs from the observation deck, people chanting banana, while a steel tow cable came down to lift me up.
Attaching myself to the winch was the scariest part of the whole ordeal. For a moment i panicked and thought i'd unhooked myself, as i raised back to the safety of the cart. Our return to the observation deck was greeted with hysteric squeals of laughter, and high fives, both from staff and other tourists fortunate enough to bear witness. Back in good favour, a ride to town was easy to procure.
The evening kept rolling in our way. Our hotel cheap and private, showers hot, beds comfortable. We took an hour to reset before heading to the night. It was our last evening with Miles and the final hours to ring in my birthday. While finding a restaurant that we could all agree on was difficult, finding a bar wasn't.
Seconds after our bottles clinked to good cheer, the door opened and in walked a familiar face. Leading a small pack of backpackers was a pompous traveler that had stayed with us for a few nights the week prior. He went around insisting everyone call him the British Bulldog, a self appointed nickname, the man was an absolute piece of work and wanker of the highest degree. Dear Caleb, shamed us into giving him a second chance, ignored our protests, and waved the group over to join us. "So what's your story then," Caleb invited, as the doofus saddled up beside him at our table.
"Well," the Brit began what was an obvious, well rehearsed racket, "i guess you could say i'm addicted to travel..."
Saffron and i stood up and left before he finished his sentence. We downed our drinks and waved goodbye to our crew. At that point the majority of us had been on the road for at minimum nine months, i myself, clocking at closer to two years. Not only had we stopped talking about it, few of us had patience for cringy self congratulatory conversations from those that had but spent a few weeks away from home and consider themselves the next Elizabeth Gilbert.
Together we set into the night. We used darkness as our compass, the more sporadic the streetlights, the further from the touristy centre, the better. It didn't take long for us to wander out of the small town, back towards the adventure park. Right when we began to consider heading back, we heard a bit of music in the distance coming from a small cement building. The closer we got, the louder the Spanish serenades became. We entered a packed karaoke night in a rural watering hole. It was the kind of place i'd come to expect in Central America, peeling paint, a few rickety fans, cheap drinks, clean, though run down. Looks of surprise at our foreign faces only cemented our feelings that we'd found the right place. The karaoke host was thrilled to have some new blood, and enthusiastically signed us up.
We killed time with a beer. Then another. Things were moving slow, not that that was a surprise. The ballads, and lackluster performances were becoming tiresome. Everyone sang their song seated at their tables. The atmosphere was awkward and boring. Conversation began to dry between Saffron and i as we waited for our turn. We folded, packed up, went to say goodnight to our host who insisted we stay, we were two songs away.
Despite our concerns to rendezvous with our friends, we relented. And i am so glad we did. We'd decided to duet, and sing the incredible Total Eclipse of the Heart. Not only did Saffron have an outstanding voice, we were itching to put on a show. Despite having one microphone between us, we made it work. As the opening notes started we got up to the middle of the empty dance floor, and made our moves. Singing, dancing, tossing the mic back and forth, utilizing the entire space.
The applause was colossal.
With a quick bow we pranced to the host for a goodnight, who proceeded to block our exit and begged for another song. As polite as we could, we were obliged to decline. Saffron explained to the pouting MC how late we were and that we couldn't wait for another turn. Without a moment's hesitation he cut the music, ripped the microphone out of the next singer's hands, and asked us what was next.
It could only be one song.
La Bamba.
Again, the magnetic Saffron took the lead. My Spanish not strong enough to sing the verses, i resigned myself to singing along with the choruses, but pulled my weight by cutting a rug. By the end of the song, with our ample encouragement, we had every seated soul joining in the hook. Saffron whipped the mic around like a hardcore singer, to various tables. For the final, triumphant, "La Bamba" she pressed it close to an awkward young man in his early twenties. The music cut out, and rather than sing, his voice cracked he squeaked out a bashful "Que!?"
"We can't top that! Lets get out of here!" Saffron yelled through the cheers, grabbed my hand and we bolted back to the moonlight.
It had taken hours before our turn to tear down the meagre karaoke bar, and Monteverde was a lot quieter than we'd left it. Finding our friends wasn't hard. Most of the businesses had closed, and we sourced the loudest location. Pavi had called it a night, and it looked like ours would be winding soon, as the bar made its last call a few minutes after we entered.
Without fail the fates came to our aid. Miles had befriended a couple whose parents owned a nearby resort and we went off again for another late night hot tubbing. Drinks poured, everyone stripped to their underwear, and the party continued. Everyone except Jay, who bared it all again. Inspiring another, quiet, strange man, who followed his lead, then proceeded to try and talk my ear off for the next hour.
With a smile from ear to ear Caleb pulled me over. "So, you know how Pavi's been moaning about not meeting any gay backpackers?"
"Ya?"
"Well, right after he left, i found out, our new friend Matt, told me he had been having the same trouble."
i joined in Caleb's chuckles, "Oh, that's too funny, poor Pavi, they just missed each other."
"Right, well, that's not even the funny part, yet. You see, when you and Saffron arrived, i told him you were Pavi, and had everyone go along with it."
"Is that why he keeps buying me drinks?"
Caleb couldn't contain his glee and howled.
"Well, no point in offending the guy, i'll keep playing along and we'll let him down a little later."
Rum flowed, and we made our inevitable way home- alone. My birthday had come to a close.
The next morning hangovers dictated our travel plans. Three nights of partying and adventure had taken their toll, and we organized a bus to take us back to the Nicaraguan border. i managed to squeeze in a final breakfast, and long goodbye with Miles before we checked out the hotel. We returned, and he left to pack. My shopping bags, easy to collect, I waited with Saffron for our friends on the balcony when Providence gifted a farewell parade.
A charismatic brass band led the progression, and Saffron asked a passing maid was happening. The President was visiting their town to celebrate the local fire department's recent heroism. The maid joined us and we watched as they came closer. Saffron leaned over and whispered "You know, i've never flashed a President before."
Before the words could register, her top was off and swinging above her head drawing the nation's leader's attention. Laura Chinchilla Miranda, the first female President of Costa Rica gasped, while the maid went scarlett with embarrassment, prattling off furious rapid fire Spanish at Saffron as she hid.
"Oh," Saffron turned to me as she pulled her shirt back on. "Turns out the President is a woman." She shrugged, waved at the bashful politician and thrilled fire fighters. "Meh, i stand by my choices."
i shook my head, first in amusement, then in agreement. While i wouldn't have necessarily chosen such a wild birthday, i'm thrilled it had happened. Close friends, adventure, mystery, music, nature, laughter, all the things that make me grateful to be alive, that reminded me that no matter the inevitable ups and downs, there was so much to look forward to with each coming year.
Thanks for reading!
-Mr. Write