One Step Closer to Being Texan

Instead of canoes and kayaks, Texans float rivers on poorly designed inner-tubes with excessively long, sharp, metal, valve stems. The concept is deceivingly simple. Each individual gets his or her own tube, and each cooler gets its own tube. The idea is to (1) drink, (2) float, and (3) not drown.

#1 makes #2 and #3 significantly more complicated.

The first bad decision was going with a bottomless tube for this impromptu expedition down the mighty Guadeloupe. Apparently turtles are reckless, and shallow rocks feel no sympathy for my skinny, vulnerable, white ass. Subsequently, I spent 5 hours getting sodomized by both rocks and surfacing turtles.

I hadn’t been floating for long when we approached some minor rapids. Two girls were standing alongside the river as my comrade and I approached.

Girl: We can only let the beer cooler through if you give us one.
Me: How old are you?
Girl: 13
Me: That’s sad.
Girl: You’re sad.
Me: Probably true, but I’ll see you later

No more than 10 seconds afterward, my sad ass was ejected from the tube, my beer and sunglasses were gone, I was cuddling a rock, and all I could hear was the 13-year olds standing 20 feet away chanting and laughing, “You’re. . . a . . . bitchhhh . . . You’re . . . a . . . bitchhhh.”

I’m not sure if they were yelling at me or my buddy who had sacrificed life and limb to save the cooler but either way, fuck those girls.

I live to blog another day.