"Seriously. I'm going to Cancun. Me. Fucking look at me. I'm going to Cancun. Me. I am such a douchebag." I take a long drink from my beer mug.
Dainon shrugs. "What? Why? Why? Why does that make you a douchebag?" He's got that smirk on his face, you know, the one where people look at me like I'm a socially paranoid puppy.
"Well, I'm not twenty-one, first of all."
"Angela and I went two years ago. So what now? Are we douchebags?"
"Well, uh, whatever, you guys are a couple. It's only socially acceptable to go to Cancun on Spring Break or a romantic getaway. Duh."
"Who said...anything? Romantic getaway? I went with my wife."
I squint at him bitterly. "Yeeeeah, you guys totally did it when you were down there and you know it."
Angela, his wife, jumps in. "Rossi, honey, you are going to have a blast. Don't worry so much. Just bring plenty of bikinis. Our last trip I brought seven. I needed twice that."
"I don't even own a bathing suit. I should get on that."
Angela is baffled. "How can you...what?"
"You're a liar," Dainon interjects.
"You guys didn't know me when I was 30 pounds heavier," I snicker at them and cross my arms in defense, pretending that it wasn't a big deal when I was that overweight. "You'd prolly be thanking God, Ganesh and the stars that you never had to see that." (In retrospect, I prolly looked like eerily similar to Ganesh.) "I'm going to need SPF 200. But I might not even get a bathing suit," I flip over my forearm and push up my sleeve, proudly exposing not only my sweet tat, but the milky, alabaster skin beneath, "because I will totally match the sand."
Dainon cocks his head and furrows, wondering why my whiteness is so unacceptable, but Angela nods in agreement. "Yup, that's about right, you'd blend in with sugar." She grabs my arm. "Okay, in that case? On behalf of everyone who is naturally a bit darker, honey, please, promise me you won't get a flesh-colored swimsuit. 'Cause honey, that's just wrong. You might as well just lay out there with nothing."
"That's the plan." I joke about this now, but there is no way I'll have the balls to be all birthday suity.
"No matter what, you just do what makes you comfortable. Oh! You're gonna have so much fun, and you're going to meet people...let me tell you, Dainon and I met just the sweetest couple when we were down there. We hung out with them every day, went out to dinner and all that."
I am like scoffy magee. "Well, of course you guys found people to hang out with. You're like two of the friendliest, most accepting people in the world. I can't do that man, I'm a massive hater."
"What are you talking about? Oh, honey, you're no hater. I know haters, and you are not one." Angela laughs it off.
"Of course I am. Did you not hear me hatin' on Cancun?"
"Good point - she did do that," Dainon says, and does a cheap, bullshit imitation of me, "I'm not fucking twenty-one and I'm not in a fucking couple and Cancun is fucking bullshit."
"I hate you," I snap at him, and then pause to roll my eyes and point at my face.
"You're a hater," Dainon agrees.
"I never realized that before," Angela says with disbelief. "It all makes so much sense now. You are a hater."
"And I'm walking out of every single place that starts playing Jimmy Buffet."
"There are a lot of 'em."
"And I don't want to deal with all of the American assholes at the bars."
"Well, your resort is all-inclusive--"
"And I almost don't want to make friends with anyone 'cuz then I'm gonna feel guilty when I don't want to leave the resort and do their bullshit stuff."
"There's nothing wrong with that."
"Fucking Cancuny activities and all that business."
"You're there to drink on the beach, anyway."
"People will be all, 'Go to Chicken Itza' or whatever it's called. Like chicken. The place that looks like it's spelled chicken, but it's not and it looks like it should be, though."
Dainon just stands there unblinking, slowly shaking his head, watching my mind unravel itself.
"Oh, they'll all try to get you with that stuff," Angela explains. "When we were there, they were all, 'Let's rent jet skiis! Let's go snorkeling! Let's play beach volleyball! Let's see the ancient ruins!' and Dainon and I were like, Oh, no, you go on, I'm just going to finish off about twelve more of these frozen coconut things."
"Yeah, and everyone's gonna want to go to bars, go waterboarding--"
"Exactly, and I'm gonna be all, 'what if I don't want to go waterboarding?' and they're gonna be all, 'come on it'll be fun' and I'm gonna be all 'beach drinking is funner' and they're gonna be all--"
"Did you just say waterboarding?" Now Dainon is paying attention again.
"Yeah, you like can rent them at our resort."
"Waterboarding is available for rent?"
"Yeah," I shrug. "All non-motorized water sports--"
" And you will be...torturing war criminals with water inhalation?"
"No, it's like those kickboards---oohhhh, fuck."
"Is this the Spanish Inquisition?"
"Shut up, Dainon."
"Seriously, are you going to Cancun or Guantanamo?"
"I hate you so hard right now."
"You fucking hater."