All About Trey

Life, Travel, Adventure

DC to San Juan

Okay, so I had planned this trip for months. No wait, scratch that. I had signed up for this cruise many months ago, but I really didn’t do any planning. Which is so unusual for me. And when you have no plan . . . . well, it generally doesn’t turn out very well.

The night before the trip, I got a new haircut, short, buzzcut-ish, and highlights. Then a friend came over to help with some grooming. And so I found myself packing at 1030 the night before I leave. So am I really thinking things through, what I’m bringing, the right number of shirts, shorts, etc? No, not really. I got the essentials and shoved them into a suitcase and a roll on. Then I crashed.

The Supershuttle sucks. They arrive 30 minutes early and want to know if I’m ready. Um, no! We’ll can we come back in 10 minutes? Try 20. I was the last one in the packed shuttle and then we headed out to Dulles. It was cold, like snowflakes coming down cold, but I refused to bring a coat. So it’s jeans and a black wool sweater. Dulles is only a minor haze. I get out to the gate and it’s early. Like 2 ½ hours early. So I start to read and people watch. It’s easy to figure out who’s going on my cruise. I see several of the A-list gays. Hate them. Tall, thin, good looking, partnered. Hate them. A couple of hotties, but I’m feeling big, fat, and unattractive in my jeans and black wool sweater.

The flight down is uneventful. I was braced for the horror of the airport at San Juan, but it seemed so nice, and clean. And did I mention f&*king warm. Even with the AC, it’s hot. Lesson Learned: Plan. When leaving a frigid cold climate and going to the tropics, dress in layers or bring a frickin change of clothes in your carry on. The trek to baggage claim is a good way to get the blood and sweat flowing. Yikes this black wool sweater is a heat sink. Baggage claim: what a zoo. It takes over an hour, and three different baggage carousals to get my bags. When I leave the baggage claim area and actually go outside, it’s like an oven.

San Juan is not pretty. It’s big, it’s noisy, it’s a mix of modern high rises and slums. The traffic makes DC’s look weak. It reminds me of the Phillipines, and not just for the heat. The driver doesn’t speak English (and this is a US territory don’t forget!), the cars don’t really follow the traffic lights. It’s all just weird. We get to the Condado area of San Juan which is where the Radisson is. I had Pricelined the Radisson and it claimed it was a 3 star hotel. I guess 3 stars doesn’t mean much in San Juan. The hotel is basic, clean, but not 3 stars. It does have a casino which is packed with little old ladies chain smoking and working the slots. Kind of sad. I change clothes (shorts yea!!) and decide to tour the neighborhood. Condado is definitely one of the main tourist areas, so it’s kind of nice. Kind of like a run down South Beach. I manage to find the Atlantic Beach Hotel which is the gay hotel and it’s got a beachfront bar. I sit, listen to the good music, and drink a couple of margaritas. Did I say couple? Try four. And then I realize, I’m hammered. And hungry.

So I find a Mexican restaurant for dinner. I’m sitting next to two young, pretty hot guys who are so working this woman who is sitting next to them. They are probably early 20s and she’s probably mid-late 30s. And they are using every tired line in the book and it’s just really sad. Weirder still is that across from them are two older men, who the younger men refer to as their Dad’s, and the older men are trying to convince the woman to go out with their sons and have a "good time". Even in my 5 margarita stupor (well I had to have another one with the chips while I wait for my dinner!), I can’t believe these men are trying to scam this woman into their sons beds. And trust me, it’s so obvious that all the younger guys want to do is score. Then, the younger guys leave and it turns out the older guys aren’t their Dads at all, just strangers at the restaurant. It’s like watching the Twilight Zone.

Between the food and the margaritas, I’m done for the night, at like 8 PM. Yes, kind of sad I know. But tomorrow is old San Juan and then the beach!