Snorkels, snacks and snoring thunder

Jesus picks us up again.

Yes, Jesus was our driver. I mean he changed his appearance but his name never changed. I think Jesus may or may not be sponsored by Armor All. I swear his backseat was so shiny and slick it could have been mistaken for an oil rig spill. Jessica was a little skeptical about taking us rogue-style outside the hotel shuttle zone, but I reassured him, “Jesus has never failed us and He won’t start now!” Can I get an amen?! 🙌

At aqua world we got a layout of the facility 10/10 would recommend. They gave us the run down and Jess hopped in the drivers seat. Jess drove us like a boss… until she got slapped in the face by a wave so hard it practically filed a restraining order against her. But spirits were high! I still think Pete saw it coming and gave me NO WARNING! Not to mention, he kept the camera on in hopes to see it again.

We snorkeled with Finding Nemo’s extended family, gliding over coral reefs that looked like underwater art installations curated by Poseidon and Ariel. We even saw a turtle! 🐢 (He gave us a wise nod. Might’ve been just breathing, but I took it as spiritual affirmation like “Well done Pete”.) This was a little God-wink, as Jess’ favorite honeymoon memory was the sea turtles being so close to us.

Unfortunately, every time we found a perfect fishy view, an overly annoying couple from overseas would suddenly appear in front of us — full snorkel block our views. We were officially snorkel-blocked. Multiple times.

Then it was my turn to drive the boat. How do I say this? I am pretty sure Jessica would have felt more confident in blindfolded goats on rollerblades the boat was a lot more squirrelly than I anticipated. It all went south when the tour guide insisted I ram the boat up the launch ramp like we were Vin Diesel in Fast & the Flotation Device. Eventually, he just sighed and said, “Ya know what… just let go. I got this.” Captain Confidence had entered the chat.

Jesus, bless his shiny ride, picked us up again and drove us back while we admired the views like two very sun-kissed , waterlogged poets.

By the time we got back to the resort, we were so hungry I swear I could see my own ribcage writing “feed me” in Morse code. We aimed for the Lobster House but — plot twist — they were closed because apparently lobsters observe the Sabbath now.

We tried the spot next door, but they told us they wouldn’t serve us for 10 more minutes. Ten minutes?! We were basically biblical figures at this point. I looked Jess dead in the eyes and quoted scripture: “If I don’t eat now, I shall surely perish” — Esau, probably.

So we limped down to the OG food spot and ordered enough food to feed a wedding party. Salmon tacos, nachos, shrimp cocktails, potatoes, garlic fish, desserts. Yes, we were judged. Yes, we felt it. And yes, we licked our plates anyway.

After our feast, it was back to the beach where Pete resumed his part-time gig as a professional napper. Jess, the overachiever, cracked open her book while we were gently harassed by beach vendors offering everything from bracelets to a full set of patio furniture.

Later, we swam in a massive, eerily empty pool. Just us and one mysterious couple who may or may not have been vampires. Honestly, it felt like we’d rented out a private villa. Fancy vibes. So exclusive.

I told Jess I wanted a Coke. Normal sentence, right? But in pure Pete fashion, that led to me becoming besties with three complete strangers while Jess sat solo in the hot tub contemplating whether the distant conch-shell blowing was:

A) A resort performance

B) Someone celebrating a birthday

C) The actual Rapture

Spoiler: it was neither just more people selling shells now.

Back to the beach. Nap #2. Pete edition.

Apparently, there were more people around this time, which is odd because by the time I woke up to thunder… there were none. Just empty chairs and the soft echo of waves. Come to find out there was thunder just not from the clouds but from me. Jess looked at me and said, “I think your snoring scared everyone away.” Imagine being so powerful your snoring clears beaches. Add that to the résumé.

Time for dinner. Jess looked like she was ready for a magazine cover. I looked like I was about to tee off at a mid-level country club.

We dined at “The Grill” — I feasted on ribeye, creamed spinach, onion rings. While Jess had, sirloin, asparagus, mashed potatoes (so good they deserved their own Instagram account). Romantic vibes were strong… until a literal herd of Coatisprinted past our window. Not once. Dozens of them. A Coati flash mob. It was like National Geographic: Resort Edition.

As we were walking back to the room we saw they were setting up for a circus show by the pool. Amazing, right? So we waited in our room two full hours until show time. Jess was fading fast, but I said, “Trust me. It’ll be worth it.”

I regret everything.

It was like Cirque du Soleil’s understudies called in sick and their elementary cousins filled in. At one point, they pulled a woman from the audience and instead of being shy, she sprinted on stage like she’d been waiting her whole life for this moment maybe it was the liquor in her or the fact that the guy was just walking in a hamster wheel but Respect nonetheless.

We laughed. A lot. But mostly at, not with.

Back in our room, because we’re Americans and this is our God-given vacation right, we ordered chicken fingers and fries from room service. I guess Pete didn’t want to mention this part, so I’ll add it in. He tried calling for room service from the phone in the room NEXT to the toilet… gluttony much? Ridding of one meal while preparing for the next.

We watched a movie on my phone (because every channel was in Spanish and we know uno and queso and that’s it). Jess fell asleep mid-scene. All was peaceful until the chicken fingers… hit.

Let’s just say I “released the pressure” like a gentleman — silently. But apparently, the aroma had notes. Jess sat up like the undead and gasped, “What… was… that?!”

Listen. It wasn’t great. But it was a memorable ending to a great day.