when it rains, it pours

You would think I don’t do anything on this island besides have some drinks and make out with boys. For the first week, that felt pretty true. I was diving, but not as often as I would have liked. Which leaves many hours to kill on an island where there isn’t that much else to do. After a few drinks one night with friends from the dive shop, I ended up making out with one of the guys I really like at the shop, but put a stop to that at just the right time to avoid having to have a ‘talk’ the next day, like we did the last time we made out just before I left to travel. A few days later at Michael Jackson tribute night, I had the pleasure of sleeping at another dive shop and sneaking home just before people started the early morning walks to their dive shops to get ready for the morning boats. But since then, good behavior. More diving, more running, less drinking. Until a few nights ago when the Honduras curfew started because of the political unrest and we were relegated to sitting around the dive shop drinking because we couldn’t even go out to the bars where you pay too much for weak drinks which actually help you out in the long run because they keep you from drinking too much. Nope, when left to our own devices we pour drinks that are far too strong, drink them way to quickly and figure everyone should be drunk since it’s the night of someone’s snorkel test.

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