Expecting to land in tropical paradise, we instead stepped foot into a $270/night shithole hotel room in Male for an overnight stay, before departing by sea plane to our Maldivian resort the next morning. Gene was fit to be tied when he discovered that the Internet would be down for the rest of the evening. As though putting a child down to sleep, I had to convince Gene that the sooner we went to bed, the sooner our day in paradise would present itself.
The following morning, all hotel guests were bused out to the seaplane port. As Gene sat over a cup of coffee and I at an open computer, I listened to him babble to another couple nearby, cursing to myself at the thought of having to socialize on our island of respite. Little did I know, but from that point on, we would become inseparable from our new Persian friends, Farzin and Colet. Before we would even venture out on our own to explore the island, we had already set plans to meet up for lunch.
As I entered into our suite at the W Resort, my eyes were quickly drawn to the large bouquet of
flowers, bottle of champagne, and strawberries with whipped cream that my romantic husband had arranged to be awaiting us upon our arrival. I was taken aback by the size of our 1500 sq. ft. room, inclusive of a private deck, which contained a plunge pool, outdoor shower, circular couch for two, lounging chairs and dining area with barbecue. Our room itself contained a giant plasma television, surround sound Bose stereo, fully-stocked wine cooler, and glass floor to view aquatic life. I thought I had died and gone to heaven - that is, until I noticed the cockroach on our patio floor and the giant black beetle flying around our deck. Certainly, God wouldn’t have punished me with life-sized bugs in the Afterlife.
“Gene, KILL IT!” I shouted, as I jumped onto the bed to ensure my safety.
That night, after dinner, we would return to our room only to find another creepy critter - Papa Roach. As heavenly as our bed was, I had trouble falling asleep that night as I was convinced that our deceased friend had called on the troops to seek revenge.
I began the next morning sharing a Pringles breakfast with a school
of fish, as I sat dangling my feet off the side of our deck. I couldn’t have been more relaxed as I basked in the sun within the privacy of our impressive abode. That’s when I heard the steady vibration of what sounded to be a fighter jet overhead. Almost as if it had been waiting for me to roll onto my back, the monster beetle took a nose dive within inches of my face.
All silence was broken as Gene glanced outside to see what the ruckus was about. Dressed in my birthday suit without an ounce of shame, I pounced on and off the furniture with my $0.99 plastic fly swatter in hand. All was fun and games until I had a gigantic wooden sliver stuck in my foot. As I lied injured on the bed, I reprimanded Gene for not doing anything to help me. Yet, when he came unsympathetically over with a pair of tweezers, I begged him to stay away. Women!
Naturally, I decided to keep my clothes on for the rest of the day so that I would stop attracting so many horny beetles. With that said, we invited over Colet and
Farzin for an afternoon barbecue, never anticipating, however, that the entertainment would be had next door.
As Colet and I took an invigorating dive into the ocean, our eyes were accosted by the sight of our neighbors - a Chris Farley look-alike practicing yoga with his young, double-D bride and private yoga instructor. We nearly drowned as we struggled to keep our heads above water and our cackles to a down-low. Colet would later befriend the couple as our private investigator to gather the facts and would discover that the couple had recently been married in Vegas. That said it all!
Each of us had yet to share in the experience of witnessing Dolly Parton’s bare boobs as she yawned and stretched at the edge of the deck while we enjoyed a swim.
Gene, pumped about learning how to kite surf, threw a hissy fit when he found out that it was prohibited on the island for safety reasons. As he stood at the water sports cabana on the beach, he could not figure out why the hotel would advertise lessons on their website and admit to having the appropriate equipment if the sport was forbidden. Sometimes
it’s the simple things that send Gene over the edge.
Dinner would be had at the Maldivian barbecue with drinks and dancing to follow. Once at the bar, Gene sat on watch in the company of a snoozing Farzin while Colet and I danced the night away. Farzin, still suffering from jet lag, was the first to call it quits as his newlywed wife begged him to let Gene and I walk her back to the room at the end of the night. Needless to say, that didn’t go over so well. Unfortunately, between several shots, cocktails and dancing, we either managed to run up a $400 bar tab or the shit-faced Americans once again fell victim to an outlandish scam.
Aside from our hangovers, our last day in the Maldives could not have been better. We spent the majority of our time out in the clear waters of the Indian Ocean snorkeling with Colet and Farzin, lying out and barbecuing. As we flippered our way through the reef, Gene motioned me underwater toward a sea turtle, which appeared oblivious to our presence. I watched in utter amazement as Gene outstretched his arm to pet the shell of
the endangered species. Jealous of his extraordinary encounter, I, too, made my way over to cop a feel. I, on the other hand, got the “Hey lady! Mind your own business!
” turn of the head before the turtle continued on his way.
Our last night in the Maldives would be unforgettable as Gene and I sat and listened to the DJ spin slow jams while watching the sun disappear into the horizon.
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