Bahamas, Scooters, Life Retention

Things to be Honest About if you are going to Rent a Scooter in the Bahamas:
1. Are you wearing sandals.
2. When you say sandals, are they so loose that at this point they are more like flip flops.
3. How familiar are you with driving on the left.
4. When you say you have “ridden a scooter” are you talking about a thing with an electric motor that doesn’t go over 25 mph.
5. When you say you have “ridden a scooter” do you also mean “12 years ago.”
6. Are you wearing shorts.
7. Do you actually not know any geography or have any idea where to drive said scooter around the island.
8. Is one of your irrational fears that a moving vehicle will run over your head and crush it.

I pigheadedly decided to rent scooters in Nassau, because they look so fun. People were irritating and dragging their feet about going. Then my irritating roommate said it was very scary and a guy in her last cast fell off and got really hurt, which was irritating. Then finally castmate Sam and youth counselor Alex agreed to do this, but we missed our meeting point at a Starbuck’s so I said “oh forget it” because we couldn’t get the full 3 hours that we had planned to rent them. Then they said “well, we can do an hour” and I said fine, I guess, okay.

Alex, in her position as youth counselor, is technically not allowed to rent scooters, zip line, parasail and others, because they are too risky and she could die. While we were waiting in line to rent the scooters, the firefighter and a cruise consultant approached and said we were crazy and it looked fun although they too could not rent scooters because they were not allowed because they could die. The firefighter is probably 300 lbs. and South African and fights fires as his job. I tell jokes and get sunburns. Anyway.

A gang of 3 New Jersey gentlemen from the ship drove up, returning their scooters. They were whooping and hollering and said “yeah bitches!” and other poems, which I didn’t understand because scooters are supposed to be a tiiiiny bit dull, I mean they are “scooters.”

One of the gentlemen employed by the scooter rental place was carefully wiping at two WOUNDS on his forearm, one about 4 inches x 2 inches, one about the size if an egg. They were clearly very painful, but I ignored them because I had just signed a waiver (which is hilarious because why do that because it’s a foreign country and we know that everyplace is a deathtrap). We took 3 scooters and had to take a short test drive. These scooters are so powerful that the muffler is chrome and big and looks like it could go on a motorcycle. And the scooters have very impressive pickup. Sam was missing one rearview mirror, I could not aim mine, so they were a waste. Alex (who is a very pretty blonde tall Canadian—this becomes important) tried her test drive and almost hit a bus. Thus, a guy from the rental place—the son of the owner—apparently said something or other because for whatever reason, he was driving and Alex was riding on the back. They told me to lead the way and also that I had to stay on the left because that’s where they drive which I FORGOT ABOUT.

Also, let’s remember that Nassau is NOT LOS ANGELES or the US and that the roads are crappy in the city center. The son of the owner passed us and lead the way. There is a way you drive on a scooter when you have lived some where and know it well and are trying to impress a blonde who is holding on to you and probably giggling. This means we: passed a bus. We: drove between cars and went to the front of the line in the intersections. We: took some chances and some very fast turns. We: were not overly explained where we were going, i.e. I had no idea, but I found out it was a scenic tour but I was so terrified that I can only tell you about patches of the road. A car drove very close to Sam and almost hit him. We drove over a lot of gravel, which made me think to myself “there’s something about gravel you’re supposed to know” and that I think that is what has made my brother fall over and bleed through his kakhis once or twice. If I were to employ one phrase to describe driving through downtown Nassau on a scooter—and people like to honk in Nassau, and drive fast, and be busses, and are used to scooters so don’t give them like…a lot of space, also we had no turn signals—I would say “shitting my pants.” After 15 minutes, I turned 45.

Finally we got to a road by a bay, which was beautiful and the road didn’t have a pothole or a grate every 4 feet so I could relax and be amazed that I was alive. Alex was having the time of her life, waving around, taking pictures, engaging in “look no hands” behavior. She yelled to see if we wanted to stop for a drink, by which I thought she meant marguerita, to which I said “NO! NO NO NO!” and after a bit we made a right turn in the middle of a street with no light and logically, went to KFC. There I sampled Junkanoo punch (which is a Bahamas pineapple soda—very incredibly sweet) and Alex said how relaxing and fun the ride was and what a great tour she got and I talked about not dying.

After that, the ride was fun and short. Possibly because Sam went behind me, so if I fell off and my head was crushed, he would at least know to tell the guide to pause his date.

After the ride, and the guide said to us “don’t forget to give your guide a good tip” which was bold, we walked back to the ship. Alex jumped around and was ready to go out for the night and kept saying “hurry up,” Sam and I walked much more soberly. He said “I’m so glad I wore gym shoes.”

Other good stories:
Someone secretly got pregnant and carried the baby to term and DELIVERED the baby on the ship. She and baby were promptly left in Acapulco.