Boom goes the dynamite

I left off with a story about our trek to the resort we stayed at in the Domincan Republic. It was the first time Will and I had done one of these all-inclusive jobs. To be honest, I sort of thought they were a bit gross before. A bunch of food, booze and Americans. I was wrong, I will admit. It was great and perfect for just simply relaxing. I love to travel but I find it hard to settle down, always needing to see everything. It's nice when you really have no choice but to sit, read and drink booze. The food was actually pretty good too. In fact, it was great. So anyhow, that's my review Travelocity.
When you left the perimeters of what was the resorts beach, there were security guards that would get you to sign out. I guess in case you get kidnapped by pirates, they know what time the resort had no legal responsibility. There was this security guard, who looked like he was maybe 20, but who knows. They all look the same to me. Security guards, that is. This guy loooooooved the baby. He came running up to us as we were walking down the beach and just started speaking Spanish to Dex and cooing and going crazy. It was really cute. He then started speaking Spanish to us. Now, having taken first year Spanish in University and scoring an impressive 58% in the course, you would be surprised to know that I can't speak Spanish. So I say, "No hable espanol." Didn't matter. He just kept talking. So he gestures for us to follow him to his chair where he keeps the clip board for people to sign out. In the meantime all of these other people were just walking by, not signing out. Ok. So we follow him and he gestures for me to sit on the chair. I sit with the baby on my lap. Will has the clipboard, signing us out. He continues to go cookoo over the baby. He's yammering on in Spanish and looking at me and laughing and I'm laughing, at what, I don't know. He may have been saying that we all look the same to him. Models, that is. Anyhow, the next thing I know, he's clucking Dex under the chin, then he swings his massive shotgun around to the front and hands it to the baby! Of course Dex goes right for the effing trigger. It all happened so fast I thought I was in a Saved By the Bell dream sequence. "Holy shit!" I say, "don't give the baby the gun!" I jump up and say, "Ok see you later! Have a good day." He continues to follow us and I just keep turning around saying "Ola, Ola,Ola", which I obviously know means "Hello" (did you already forget the 58%?) but I was so flustered that it's the only thing that was coming out of my mouth. Imagine how insane that sounded? I'm running away, clutching my baby to my chest, yelling out "Hello!Hello!Hello!" So anyhow,that was that. About 2 days later, I'm alone walking down the beach with the baby. He's there again. This time he just waves for me to come to him. I walk up to him and he starts with the baby again. He wants to hold him this time. Now I'm getting a good look at this guy. I don't know for certain, but I'm 58% sure that this dude may be slightly mentally challenged in some capacity. He's sitting down and holding up his arms to me, wanting to hold the baby. I figure it's ok, he's just a sweet man who loves the baby. I know what you're thinking, you're saying to yourself, "Oh wait Larissa, but where's the gun?" Yes, maybe I should have thought of that. As I'm handing my only child over to the stranger I realize the gun is just lying across his lap and now Dexter is in his arms and jumping on the gun. I discover this and yell, "Ola!Ola the gun!" Again with the misuse of ola. He says the only words I've heard him say in English, "No problem lady, no problem." Well, maybe I'm just a soft Canadian who has never been exposed to guns before but I'm pretty sure a 9 month old jumping on a loaded shotgun is a bit of a problem. I grab Dex, sign the stupid clipboard and take off. Then I went and drank a Banana Mama.

Is that a gun in your pants?

Happy New Year weirdos.
Will, Dexter and I went to the Domincan Republic on New Years Day for a nice week in the sun. Well, the shade really. For those of you who know my little family we are the whitest people around.SOme may even say that we're translucent. My Mom says I'm porcelin and fair, so suck on that. Will and I would come out of the shade at around 3pm. This is the time when the nightwalkers can roam in the sun without fear of complete anihilation. Anyhow, it was an amazing week and the baby loved it. The flight was a bit of a gong show but even more of a gong show was the hour and a half ride out to the resort. Dex had been ok during the flight but now it's like 10pm and he's getting super squirrly. Everyone on the bus is from Toronto and ready to get to the resort. Some skids from Milton have cracked some Canadians, butts behind their ears ready to hoser it up the moment we get to the resort. This crazy Domincan guy is on the microphone (of the greyhound) cracking really dumb jokes like this one: "I hear there's 2 feet of snow in Canada." Then he laughs really uncomfortably loud. That's the joke. Not to mention the sound system is ancient and his voice is really loud and distorted. Now the baby starts wailing. I'm holding him, well trying not to drop him (it was a really bumpy ride) and doing my best to get him to settle down. He's just getting louder and louder and now people around me are craning their necks to see how I'm torturing my baby. Here's the thing. Everyone thinks that if they were in my situation, they would be successful at getting him to calm down. I can see it in their judgemental, sympathetic stares. I'm getting frustrated as the baby is getting louder. Now amateur night at the Apollo says on the mic, "Oh tha' bebe is 'ungry." Thanks Domincan Gilligan. As a matter of fact, the baby isn't hungry but you would probably know better than me right? My blood is starting to boil and I'm getting really stressed out. This super fat guy was sitting next to Will and I can hear him say to Will, "Oh wow, she's getting really stressed out." No shit fatty, this is probably how your heart feels every minute of every day. I turn to Will and say, "I don't know what to do" and I see this sea of faces staring at me. It was like a TV show when they use the effect of peoples heads floating around to show confusion and craziness. I snapped. Now I'm effing crying. The baby is wailing, I'm bawling and fatty is shaking his chins saying, "it's ok! He's just a baby."
I mean, he was right but once the tears started, they were out there. I couldn't take them back. It was like Dexter sensed how crazy I felt because suddenly he stopped crying and passed out. Amazing. This one is short and sweet because I have to go to the airport and pick up the stroller. We left it on the sidewalk when we went to get into the Park and Fly Van. Parents of the year. Here's what's coming up next: I suffer from Tropic Thunder (if you know what I mean) a half mentally retarded security guard gives Dex his gun....twice, and Dex discovers that not everything you put in your mouth tastes like beautiful boobie nectar.