My Spring Break in the Bahamas - Part 3 of 3

Diane's rash is worsening, and I notice I am starting to get the same rash. Our chests and backs are covered in these red itchy bumps. We decide to call our mom who says we might be allergic to the sunscreen. We buy a different kind, but it doesn't help. Eventually we are so miserable we simply must get medical attention. We go to a nearby clinic. Diane gets a shot in the ass, and we both get some pills and some ointment. We are told to stay out of the sun and to not drink any alcohol. 'Hmm,' we think, 'at least those are two activities that have nothing to do with Spring Break.' We have about 3 days left, and there is no way in hell we are staying indoors or staying sober. So we thank the doctor and go outside and immediately start tanning and drinking.

One of the girls who is with us, Jen, is a friend of my roommate's. None of us really know her. She doesn't really talk much, and she kind of acts like she doesn't like us. One night we all go out, and she says she wants to enter a wet t-shirt contest. Holy crap-this chick is totally cool! We are so excited that she's opening up to us and feels comfortable with us. We encourage her to get on stage, and we get all the people around us to cheer for her when it's her turn. She loses to a girl who decides that you don't even need a t-shirt to be in a wet t-shirt contest. Nor do you need a bra apparently. Or anything covering up the top half of your body. Of course this girl is going to win. She is a slut, and I'm pretty sure I saw her French kiss the judge. Jen rejoins us and starts yelling at us. She says it is our fault she didn't win because we didn't yell loud enough. We bring up the fact that we got tons of guys who don't know her to cheer for her when they clearly wanted to cheer for the bare boobies. She doesn't want to hear it. Instead she takes off the t-shirt she was given for the contest. She is now standing in the middle of the bar in her bra. She looks over at some poor guy who is looking back at her in disbelief, and she says, "What the fuck are you looking at, asshole?" then flips him the bird. She then decides it's time to leave so she grabs her stuff and heads out. I decide right then and there that I will not go on any more vacations with Jen.

One of the last nights of our trip, we decide we need Outback Steakhouse. I really don't know why. We just see an ad for it, and we want it. We take the bus to the other side of the island. Once we get there we see that Outback Steakhouse will not be open for another month. Sweet. Let's just go to that Chinese place over there. Surprisingly, it is the best Chinese food I have ever had. After our meal, we want to head back to our hotel so we start looking for a taxi. A guy standing on a corner says, "You guys need a taxi? Come on-$4 a person." We say fine, and hop in his minivan. The middle bench seat is missing. A little alert goes off in my head "Danger! Danger!" yet like total morons, we still get in. There are 7 of us so half of us are on the floor. He asks us where we are going then decides he wants to show us around the island. He says he wants us to see the "real" Bahamas then he proceeds to drive 700 miles an hour down every back road on the island.

At this point, it's dawning on us that hey-this guy may not be an actual taxi driver! I am praying. Images of my mom and dad, my friends, my childhood all go flashing through my mind. I'm holding my sister's hand because I am fairly certain we are about to die in one of two ways: either we are going to be killed in a head-on collision or we are going to be taken back to a crackhouse and then raped and murdered. After about a half hour of driving absolutely nowhere near where we need to be, my 4'8" roommate, Megan, tells him in no uncertain terms that his little tour is over, and it's time to take us to our hotel-now. He says, "Okay, okay." and takes us back. He apologizes for scaring us. (Seriously, Megan, what is the deal? Why are you so goddamn streetwise?) The next day we tell another legitimate taxi driver about our experience, and he tells us we are lucky to be alive. We have now cheated death four times on this one vacation.

The last day of our trip, Diane and I are purple. We officially have sun poisoning. We try laying out, but our skin begins sizzling so we have to go indoors. We are shaking and sick. We are inside all day until dinnertime when we finally start to feel better. I take a look at the skin on my neck and chest. It is purple and blistering. It looks totally hot. And not hot like attractive. Hot like you could probably fry bacon on my sternum.

Finally the day has come for us to leave. We all agree that even after everything that happened, it really was a fun trip. Then we all agree even more that we need to get the hell out of here before we almost die again. We get to the airport and realize that Megan has forgotten her garment bag. Someone from the vacation company has to drive back and get it. We don't feel bad, though, because they are the ones who let us book rooms in the crappy hooker/drug motel then charged us for leaving it.

Besides our loooong layover in Miami, Florida, our trip home is, thankfully, uneventful. We get home safe and sound...and, quite frankly, with a newfound respect for life. My sister, Kim and I take our film from the trip to Wal-mart to be developed. When we pick up the pictures an hour later, they are all ruined because some jerk-off high school photo lab kid spilled chemicals all over the undeveloped film. We are mildly pissed, but can only laugh because when you really think about it, that is a very fitting end to a very effed up Spring Break.