Real World Hamaca: The Next Chapter

It has dawned on me that I never finished my "Real World Hamaca" series for you, my dedicated 2 French/Astorian readers. No time like the present.

When we last left the Gringos Americanos, the Canadians had invaded, people were laying it all out there on the bed in the middle of the Ocean, a male of undetermined age had begun following me, even though I insisted on calling him the Sherminator, no one knew anyones name, and my converse had gone missing.

The next morning after the Great Canadian Invasion, the island was abuzz with the prospect of attractive people, flowing alcohol, and possibilities. I was slightly less optimistic about the possibilities than my friends were -- lest we forget that while they were pairing off with the Canadian Electrician three amigos, I was left to fend for myself at an impromptu party by the Ocean bed being courted by one underage Canadian who was flashing me, and the Sherminator who was holding my drink, lip gloss and Dominican Dollars.

It was decided that we should throw a party in our hotel room for the Canadian Electrician trio. We prepared the room for beer pong (yes, we brought our own silo cups and ping pong balls), and brought out the ipod and speakers. The Canadians arrive, and immediately, things are off to a rocky start. 1) The Canadians don't look like they looked the night before AT ALL 2) The cutest guy who looked awkward in a polo the previous night rolled in with some sort of faux Dior graphic tee and white loafers, and 3) They were already drunk, and maybe high. I, being an unbiased non-party to these proceedings, immediately start laughing, and thinking to myself, "Sherminator isn't looking so bad right now".

To say that my friends were feeling like the party was, perhaps, a mistake was an understatement. No one was talking, so I start taking shots of our alcohol (yes, we brought our own), and start getting aggressively confrontational with the electricians. I begin asking questions about education level, national health care, and the like. My friends give me, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING" looks, but I forge on. Eventually, one Canadian and I get in a screaming fight about the practicality of the word, "eh", versus the word, "y'all". The conversation ended with him telling me, "you think you're smarter than me", and me saying, "affirmative". At this point we decide to leave to go to the Sport Bar.

Upon entering Sport Bar (Remember, this was the name of the "discoteca" at the real world Hamaca), the shit began to hit the fan. To spare my french/astorian readers, things with the Canadian Electricians began to unravel, and it looks like they decided to take us all in their wake. In order to escape the messiness, I go outside. It is at the outside bar where I meet the love of my life, a Canadian Opera Singer named Spence.

Unclear as to how I actually *met* Spence --- I was almost blackout drunk. But, before I knew it, this 19 year awkwardly tall brown haired Canadian was serenading me with Johnny Cash. I was eating it up. Spence confides in me and tells me about how he sometimes lies about "the cool clubs and bars I go to on the weekend -- you know, girls want a cool guy, but I just enjoy staying at home and reading or watching movies, or going to the opera" (I swooned a little). He tells me about his favorite bass solos in opera (I swooned some more). At this point, we're both pretty drunk, and I ask him if we can sing a duet. We make our way to the ocean, we walk in the ocean (in jeans) and start singing Britney Spears in duo whilst hugging. At the time, I thought that hugging a boy 4-5 years my junior in the ocean while singing was probably the most predatory thing i've ever done, but I was soon to be corrected.

We return back to the Ocean side bar, and things are REALLY MESSY, with the Canadian electrician trio. I just laugh, and introduce them to my new 19 year old Opera Singing friend. They called him some...unflattering...names. All of the sudden, like Deus Ex Machina, the SHERMINATOR RE-APPEARS. As I turn to him to tell him to get me another drink and to hold my shoes, Spence beats me to the punch and says, "Adam, what are you doing here?? You should be with Mom and Dad". I ask, "Hey Johnny Cash, how do you know the Sherminator??". Spence very bluntly replies,"He's my brother, he just turned 17."

I'm not sure what the look on my face was -- probably a combination of horror, disgust, and self loathing. So, the individual I was calling the Sherminator, who I was leading around the beach, and ordering to pick up my alcoholic beverages was 7 years younger than me.

When someone who is pursuing you was a baby when you were reading CHAPTER BOOKS, it is time to Call it a Night. So I, like any self-respecting uncommon woman, decide to head back to the hotel room.

As it turns out, after we left, Spence started vomming, and passed out on an Ocean chair -- his parents and siblings found him there the next morning -- his jeans were wet, and he had some vomit on his shirt. So, perhaps he wasn't the respectful, nerdy, Canadian Opera-Loving wunderkind I had made him out to be.

On the Season Finale of the Real World Hamaca, the Canadian Electrician Three Amigos start getting "real" with us by letting us know how they REALLY feel, Spence has no memory of the duet we sang together, some Greek Dentists enter the picture and save the day, and we say Goodbye to the Coral Hamaca. Read more