"The dominant primordial beast was strong in Buck, and under the fierce conditions of trail life, it grew and grew . . . " Jack London.

Hey

Well, Bill's back from the sunny South, had a HELL of a time, other than seeing a UFO and giving birth I think I did about all one can do down there, don't feel like doing the day by day thing so we'll group by activity instead, a quick geography lesson, Belize was called British Honduras when we were kids (or at least when I was), their currency is Belize dollars (BD) easy conversion two to our one, we landed in Belize City, which is crazy close- two hour flight from here to Houston ("We have a problem"), two more and you're in Belize City, which has a bad reputation, well deserved, where the cops are one of your biggest worries, your buddies were right, Chris, not a place I'd want to spend more than a few mnutes, especially not at night- our real adventure begins on Caye Caulker, an island 21 miles by water taxi (the fuckers drive them like land taxis, i.e. full out, like they're practicing running from Crockett and Tubbs) from BC.

What's there to do on Caye Caulker?

Sun/Swim/Snorkel- this is the damndest water I've ever seen in my life- gorgeous doesn't even begin to do justice. Absolutely clear as crystal, thirty feet deep looks like three, I'm normally not a water baby, but (when sober) I couldn't stay out of it. Got some good sun (but no burn), excellent time snorkeling this reef about 5 miles offshore (more later) . . . this trip would be worth it just for the sun and sea alone. However, there's also-

Drinking- I did say, when sober. It rained the first day we were there, which provided an excellent opportunity to bar hop (there's one every three feet on this island). The main beer is Belikin, brewed in Belize, two types, regular, which is lager- okay, but not really that great- and stout, better, which will run you $2.50 to $5 (BD) depending on the bar, a few places had some imports, including US beer, but they were much more expensive, rum drinks were cheap but I'm not really a rum drinker, the best beer by far I drank while on the island was the Belikin draft stout, which I had for breakfast that first day, and continued on for a grand total of 29 before I finally lay my weary head down about 3 the next AM (Danny said it was easily the drunkest he's ever seen me). I wasn't counting, by the way, my new drinking buddy Steve, a recovering (till this trip) drug and alcohol abuser, was, who told me as we lurched back to the hotel, trying to hold one another up, "You is my idol". Ha. He hadn't seen anything yet.

Smoking- you can get legit, big fat hand rolled Habanas on CC, and I did, four of them at a crazy $64 BD a piece, but I figured what the fuck, I'm on vacation, one for each of us cigar smokers at the next MC, they'll all love them. Unfortunately, I later went ahead and smoked mine, and it was ace, it was like drugs, honestly . . . so in fairly rapid order I ended up smoking the other three as well. I'm a dick, I know. I figured I'd go back that last morning and get some more before we left, but I over slept and barely made it to the dock in time to catch the water taxi, so . . . sorry, guys, sincerely. Those Habanas were GOOD . . . you would have loved them.

Drugging- if the cigars were like drugs, the drugs were even more so. And I don't mean the ever present ganja, I'm talking cheap, legal (down there) codeine. In normal doses it makes you sleepy, in abnormal doses it makes you- not sleepy, that's for sure, but one of codeine's salient effects is to settle your stomach, and when I wasn't abusing it, I used it to enable me to-

Eating- excellent, cheap food down there, and thanks to my good buddy Mister C (don't be a stranger), I was able to enjoy it without having to spend most of my time on the crapper (if I could even make it that far). Seafood- shrimp (burritos and quesadeas with that wonderful white cheese), conch ("You want conch?" "Yeah, give me two in the head to make sure" "You strange mon") lobster- seviche, unbelievably good, and fritters, also delicious, as well as something that would normally rip my stomach out, fresh fruit- coconut, pineapple, banana- I ate well this trip, even with the alcohol pounding my guts were taking. I was even able to eat breakfast twice (scrambled eggs, refried beans, fry jacks), amazing, I know.

Singing- I fucking hate karaoke, but that 29 beer day/night I got talked into a duet with Steve in this one place, on "I Got You, Babe". He was Cher. Nuff said.

Dancing- couple good dance bars on the island, more that once I had to say "Be still my crazy dancing feet", but of course they didn't listen. Had a lot of fun, and as I've told you boys in here many times before, being a good dancer is an ability to cultivate, cos it can sometimes lead to-

Fucking- here we go. I told myself before I left I wasn't coming down here to chase ass, and I didn't, but it was EVERYWHERE, lot of Dutch tourists on the island and they were all universally pleasant, like Africa Doug commented, "I never met a Dutch I didn't like", well said, I started dancing with this one very pretty, very sweet Dutch girl, not girl, I guess, she was early thirties, ("Doug, am I drunk, or is this girl really hot?" "Both" "That's what I like to hear") named Jan, black hair (they're not all blond, I guess) blue eyes, she looked sort of like Margot Kidder circa the first Superman movie, only better looking, she asked about all the scars on my left arm (I was in a tank top, and you dancing boys might want to start cultivating some scars, as well) which led into talking about the Death Falcon, one thing leading to another, as it will- "I'm leaving in the morning, so I want to have a really good time tonight"- she had to say it twice before Valentino here caught on- well, a good time she did have, I made damn sure she came (repeatedly) before she went, and I'm telling you, I had another one of those transcendent moments, lying there post coital atop a beautiful Dutch girl still holding me tight, moaning and calling me "Dez Valcon", where I swear I almost felt I was leaving my body . . . yeah, it was good for me, too.

Fishing/Wrestling- not sure exactly which to call this. At this one place we stopped on the snorkeling trip, you could jump in and swim with sting rays if you wanted. These were some pretty big rays, a couple of them close to four feet across the wings, with correspondingly big stingers. Not as big as mine, but big. If you got bored swimming with them you could wrestle them, so I did. It's not rocket science, you simply grab them from the front (they'll swim right up to you, which is creepy when they slide up your leg like a dog trying to hump) so they can't sting you and scoop 'em up like a sack of taters and bring them to the surface for all your admiring friends to see and take photos off. Danny's got a good one of me holding this big ass sting ray on the surface which we'll run as soon as he sends it to me. Watch for Bill's upcoming special on Animal Planet, "What Killed The Crocodile Hunter Is Just Another Bitch to Me."

And I guess that's pretty much it for the CC part of the trip, did I do anything else there? Oh yeah . . . I saved some motherfucker's life. That's right- DFZ is a fucking HERO.

Here's how it happened.

On the boat going out to the reef I think I hear this one little guy say that he can't swim. I didn't pay a lot of attention cos one he wasn't talking to me, he was talking low to his buddy sitting next to him, and two, I figured I'd misheard, as no one would be stupid enough to come on this trip if they couldn't swim. Yeah, I know, I'm always overestimating people, it's a character flaw of mine.

Then, when we stop and get ready to hit the water, I hear him tell his buddy to stick close and watch out for him once they're in, and buddy says okay, and I knew then that little guy was doomed, cos I'd already accurately pegged his buddy as a self centered asshole who was watching out for no one but himself. But again, Little Guy wasn't talking to me, and I figured it was none of my business. So, we hit the water where we're anchored, which is only like four feet deep, and which is about 100 yards from the reef. You could wade for a little bit, but then I hit a spot where it was about 8 feet deep, a good bit over my head. I started to go ahead and swim over, but first I turned to check on Little Guy.

He's trying to wade in water already up to his chin, followng his Buddy, who's totally oblivious to him, and is swimming out toward the reef. I hollered at Little Guy, "Don't go any farther if you can't swim, that's fucking deep water right in front of you", he looks at me and even says "Okay", so I turn to swim out to the reef, and after taking a few strokes, again I stop. I just got a bad feeling about things, you know? The DFZ sense is tingling, so I decide to check on Little Guy one last time, and then fuck it, seriously, he's not my damn responsibility, so I look back, and Little Guy is gone. I mean, he's fucking disappeared . . . and nobody else has even noticed.

I duck my mask under water and there he is, not even at the edge of the deep water, somehow he's gotten himself about 30 feet out into it, his head is about two feet under, he's doing this clutching thing with his hands and arms, reaching straight up like he's down in a hole, you know, like he's trying to grab the water and pull himself up and get his head back above the surface, as he continues to sink. It was a creepy, and truly scary, sight. About this time bubbles start coming out of his mouth. Lord love a fucking duck.

I wasn't real close, 100 feet, maybe, and I'm telling you, the Submariner couldn't have caught my ass getting over to Little Guy. About this time the guy on the boat starts screaming, "Help your fren', mon, HELP YOUR FREN'", yeah, little late there, boss. I dove down and got Little Guy, who was limp- I'm thinking, if he needs mouth to mouth, he really is doomed- but once I got his head above the surface he started spittiing water and sucking air. Well, thank you Jesus, sincerely.

I got him back on the boat-

LG: You saved my life! 
B: You're damn straight. 
LG: How can I repay you? 
B: I'll take beer or money. Beer'd probably be faster.

I was fucking LIVID at Buddy, I told Danny once we got back on shore I was going to beat the fucking hell out of the asshole- he's this big, as in tall, ego'd up college basketball player, he might have lasted 30 seconds- but Danny said no, please wait till we get back home, we compromised, once back on land I cussed Buddy like a fucking dog- Little Guy trusted him with his damn LIFE, and this arrogant fuck said okay, then blithely turned his back on him- I called him every vile thing I could think of, hoping to get him mad enough to take a swing at me, but all he did was hang his head and mutter "Yes, sir," "You're right, sir", "I'm sorry, sir", at first I thought he was just being chicken shit, but when he started crying I'm pretty sure he was truly contrite, I don't guess he was that bad a guy cos I believe it honestly upset him he'd swum off and damn near let Little Guy drown- not that Little Guy didn't hear it from me as well- I know, what a dick, I save your life and then cuss you out- "I was embarrassed to let people know I couldn't swim", dude, embarrassed beats drowned any day.

So, that's how Bill added Mister Life Saver Man to his list of accomplishments. I know it'd be a better and more heroic tale if my life had been at risk as well, but it's not my damn fault there weren't any tiger sharks or krakens around.

After four days on CC, we went back to the mainland and caught a bus for Cayo, on the Guatemalan border. Pretty rustic, we literally stayed in the jungle, tiny little two person cabins, outdoor shitters and showers (complete with tarantulas- no shit), one day we went about two hours into Guatemala to see the Mayan ruins at Tikal. Too fucking cool, honestly, words almost fail me, these massive, MASSIVE black stone nine tiered pyramids, solid, not hollow- I'm not saying aliens, but if you want to I probably won't argue with you- got a bunch of great photos for a future issue- went to the top of this one temple, almost 400 feet tall, man, looking from there out over the jungle, with the tops of two other temples in the distance- you just have to see this shit for yourself, seriously, words, even my words, just can't convey how insanely cool Tikal was.

Cayo was quiet after Caye Caulker, a little too quiet for some, there was this little village within walking distance of the Trek Stop where we were staying, first night there Doug and I walk down to see what we can get into, there's this one building with all this commotion going on inside, I can hear music and singing and shouting, the place was rocking, I tell Doug, "I'm going in here", "Okay, but that's a church" and it was, hey Padre, you know where a man can find a drink and a whore?

Saw a jaguar that night as well, Doug did too, as did one other person, so this isn't just Bill going, "Yeah, man, I saw this jaguar, it flew down at me from this big tree and I kicked its ass " the guy at the Trek Stop said we were lucky, he's only seen four in fourteen years there, what else, saw some funny signs going to Tikal, "Allen's Chinese Food. Welcome! Good luck!" (no kidding) "Weader Repair" (don't know what a weader is, but I know where you can get one fixed), and painted on this huge piece of plywood outside what looked like a junkyard "This business closed today you stay out ya, or you will be shot DED by someone hiding", (funny) also saw something else way funny at this bathroom stop on the way back from Tikal, this big pig- he was either black, or white and covered with bruises- was crossing the road like he owned it, and got clipped on the ass by this car, spun him around, didn't seem to hurt him but it PISSED HIM OFF, first he chased the car for a short distance, then he runs back and forth squealing and shaking his head, a pure picture of porcine pissed offness, before he bolts up into this yard where some poor wrong place wrong time fucker's clothes are drying on the line, jumps up and pulls down this shirt and just tears it to fucking pieces, still shaking his head back and forth and squealing to beat hell, if you could have seen this mad ass pig destroy this shirt cos he got hit by a car- I was in fucking stitches.

That's pretty much it, I said I wasn't going to drink the last night there cos I hate airports and layovers/"security" hassles/flying itself, hangovers only make it a lower level of hell, but some guys had bought a bunch of beer they decided not to bring back, so I helped them drink it up, along with a couple bottles of dark rum, I know I don't really care for it, but what the hell, it was a public service, the rum was local, came in an unlabelled bottle, a cork in the top, it looked like something Miss Kitty would have Sam pour from at the Long Branch, we drank it straight from the bottle, it had this maple syrup after taste I didn't like at first, but was starting to, about the time it ran out.

Conseqently, yesterday (Friday) was murder, three hour bus ride, two hour wait, two hour flight, four hour wait, two hour flight, not to mention all that customs shit along the way, I'm still feelng ragged today, which is why I think I'll wait till next weekend for us all to get MC drunk together. Also, I want to give you time to get over me smoking your cigars. Don't dare risk "saving" this fucker, so out it comes now. I'm gonna drink a couple beers and go to bed. I know it's only 4:30 pm in the damn afternoon with the sun still out and everything. It ain't easy being the Scourge Of Belize And Guatemala.

Later

Bill