Most of y’all are getting ready for Spring Break. You’re excited, I know. Girls, that bikini’s definitely gonna be sexy. I know you’ve been working hard in Yates so your bum looks cute for the frat boys. And Eduardo, your Speedo will look fabulous down in Brazil, trust me. It’s going to be fun. Myself, I’m going on an all-day coke binge just to get amped for the flight. And on the flight, I’m getting slizzard with some duty-free rum. You’re probably interested in where I’m going, aren’t you? No? Well, screw you. I’m going to Costa Rica, and I’m here to tell you what I’m going to do.
Day 1—Arrival in San Jose. A hasty survey of the city reveals a plethora of museums, restaurants, parks and coffee houses. All this culture is fine and good, but where are the Pina Coladas? I bet they’re muy excellente! (That’s Spanish for “very excellent.”) I immediately begin referring to the locals as “Mexicans,” and this will help me become one with their culture. They appreciate me and love me. While seeking out our hostel for the night, we are approached on the street by a friendly man named Arturo who offers to take us to “his home” for “some fun.” We excitedly agree, but the porno we end up making just isn’t that quality. Alas, time for bed.
Day 2—Early rise and trek to the bus station. Today, we’re going up north to stay near Arenal, an active volcano that rumbles and blows smoke into the beautiful Central American sky. The bus ride is frought with danger, but with my trusty Bowie knife lodged neatly in my sock, I’m not afraid of any shifty-eyed vagabonds looking to steal my CD player and prized collection of O.A.R. albums. Arriving in mid-afternoon, we take in the scenery and retire to our lodge for an evening of sippin’ on bub in da hot tub.
Day 3—Today we endure a tough hike up the volcano. However, my friend trips on a rock and falls 90 feet off a cliff to an almost certain demise. Rushing to his aid, we find that he has befriended a small village of locals. They have made him into their god. Because of our staunch dogmatic religious beliefs, we are enraged by their idolatry. Taking my knife, we smite the false believers from this earth in a bloodbath of biblical proportions. Our tour guide offers us tea.
Day 4—Moving west, we are going to stay in the Monteverde “cloudforest.” You may be wondering what differentiates a cloudforest from a rainforest. The answer is that in cloudforests, the trees are made of clouds, while in a rainforest, they are made of rain. I bet you didn’t know that.
Day 5—A wildlife tour takes us into the wilds of the cloudforest. We are interested to learn that David the Gnome, formerly the star of his own Nick Jr. cartoon, lives in the forest and runs a lucrative trade in hallucinogenic Costa Rican frogs. In the afternoon, we take a zipline ride through the cloudforest canopy. I undertake this venture, of course, in the nude.
Day 6—As I recover from the harsh chafing of the zipline harness, we ride the bus south to the beach at Montezuma. This beach town is described as having a “hippy-frat vibe.” Indeed, on arriving, we chill out with some ‘Spreadheads, go surfing and enjoy the pleasures of “dank nug.” Seriously, though, I have to find out the local word for ganja if I’m going to hotbox our hostel and jam all night till I can’t see straight, brah.
Day 7—Our hotel in Montezuma has hammocks, and I love hammocks. So I lie in them all day. Waking up in the late afternoon, I become hungry for a snack. Wandering around the town looking for a snack bar, I become lost. Frustrated, I begin asking the locals in an exaggerated Mexican accent, ”?Donde esta la sodaaaaa?” In addition, every time I speak Spanish, I attempt to gyrate my hips like Shakira, who is also Mexican. ?I’m jost keeeeding!
Day 8—Our final full day in Costa Rica. The day is spent on the beach, lubing up with Banana Boat oil, because those of you that know me know how tan I get. In the evening, we will embark on a booze cruise with a number of other American tourists. A gaggle of 32-year-old women near us on the boat are heard to say, “What happens in Montezuma, stays in Montezuma!” Then they high-five. Gross. Later, after dizzying self-induced vomiting, the day ends and we crawl into our soiled, putrid sheets for slumber.
Day 9-Whew! A bus ride back to the airport in San Jose is uneventful and sweaty. We are sad to leave this beautiful and dynamic country after making sure to do some lines in the bathroom before getting on the plane. Holding each other, tears running down our cheeks and leeches on our thighs, we are consoled by the one fact that we will be returning home to the greatest country in the world-America! I never wanted to leave in the first place. I hate foreigners.
Peter Hamby is a senior in the College and contributing editor of the Georgetown Voice. He is muy sexy and reads lots of, how you say? Ah yes, “books.”
