Hobby Lobby

I have always wanted to have a cool hobby.  You know… something that gives people a reason to put me in a box, but is just rare enough to render those people incapable of putting me in a box.  Most hobbies change other people’s perceptions of the hobbyist.  If I told you I play guitar, a series of things would go through your head.  First, you would probably think, “Everyone and their grandma plays guitar” which would be an accurate assessment.  Then you would probably think, “What a romantic.  I bet he used to get all the ladies” which is also correct [not correct, and lying does not count as a ‘cool’ hobby].  Irregard, the point is that virtually every hobby invokes a set of preexisting stereotypes or thoughts that are something other than, “Man… that is a cool hobby.”  So I want one of those. 

Well maybe I don't want to be the guy in a suit made of horns...  I once thought I wanted to build wood boats, but I lack carpentry as a skill set, I don’t live next to a lake, and I don’t have a spare garage.  But if I built wood boats, you would have to have more respect for me.  (Does anyone know if I am supposed to use ‘wooden’ as an adjective to modify the boat or is it just ‘wood’?  Not the first time I’ve run across this, believe it or not.)  A series of other hobbies for which I have no preconceptions include playing polo, owning a bizarre or unique pet {See Note 1}, racing legend cars, and oenophilia.  Furthermore, I am not fond of horses which rules out polo.  I have never owned a pet mantis shrimp (but this was not for lack of trying).  I nearly got a chance to drive a Ferrari around the Monte Carlo Grand Prix track in Monaco, but I didn’t.  And I don’t much care for wine.  What is this direct correlation with being wealthy and having hobbies I think are cool, anyway?  Additionally, why did I just negate my whole argument by assuming one must be rich to have all these as hobbies?  

So I guess I need to embrace the somewhat mundaneness of my hobbies and make them sound awesome.  I began to contemplate which of my hobbies I would chronicle.  Sports may be my biggest hobby as I (to my own emotional detriment) am a massive fan of all Atlanta sports teams and the Georgia Bulldogs.  However, I have been very intentional not to post about athletics and sports despite the amazing availability over the past week from the Falcons RISE UP to the Falcons DEMISE UP to Manti Te’o’s imaginary girlfriend (which I may be morally obligated to address at a later date).  It is a strategic move as I don’t want to lose any prospective followers who misinterpret my blog as a rant about the tragedy of loving Atlanta sports.  Thus, I came to something everyone seems to enjoy- travel.  Maybe I should’ve been a travel writer ala Rick Steves, but traveling is another hobby that necessitates a good deal of money.  Despite the traditional financial demands of world travel, I was blessed to spend a season of my life working on a cruise ship during which time I unearthed my love for writing about my travels.  Recently, i was fortunate enough to vacate in Mexico, and you're fortunate enough to get to hear about it.  

 Sometime in November of last year I wrote off for vacation the week of December 16th without having any idea of where we would go.  For whatever reason, deciding where to go was the most challenging decision we had faced in our marriage.  Think: "What are you feeling for dinner tonight?" on steroids.  We tossed out everything from San Diego and Costa Rica to NYC and Chicago.  I have been to Chicago in February so you would think I would know better than to go to Chicago in December.  Perhaps blinded by the idea of the Magnificent Mile decked out with Christmas decor, the scale was certainly leaning toward the windy city.  One afternoon around Thanksgiving, I was on the phone with one of my soul mates, Justin Kimmel, (yes... I have multiple soul mates) and we discovered Justin and I had the same vacation week.  Two people in the world have the persuasive power to talk me into doing something I had not planned or have no intention/desire to do, [like tear a bunny in half or engage in fisticuffs with a gaggle of nuns] and those two people are Justin Kimmel and Luke McFadden (another college roomie).  The next thing I knew, I was trying to talk my wife into going to Cancun with the Kimmels.  She obliged.  And when Amanda decides on something where money must be spent, she gets on board.  I am not certain, but I am marginally confident the country of Mexico paid us to vacation there because of the deals Amanda found online.  



This is another of my college roommates, B.O,
dancing so hard his knees began to sweat.  This
image is special as it documents the setting of the
bar.  You aren't hot unless your knees are sweating.



 So December 16th rolled around and we boarded Wing-and-a-Prayer Airlines on our all expense already paid, all-inclusive vacation.  We somehow made it safely.  Better yet, we only spent $10 the entire time we were down in Mexico.  We gave a 5 to the driver for getting us to the resort and not selling us to the cartel, and we gave another 5 to the driver for getting us back to the airport with the same conditions.  The resort we stayed at was Dreams Riviera Cancun and it was the most beautiful resort I have been to of the two resorts I have been to.  Amanda and I went to an all-inclusive resort in Jamaica on our honeymoon in May, and it was so humid my knees sweat.  (It takes a lot to make one's knees sweat.)  But the weather in Cancun in December was flawless.  Highs in the high 80s and lows in the low 70s.



I am not a fan of sand.  I like the idea of the sand and the sun, but generally speaking I would be content at the beach if AstroTurf disappeared into the water and I didn't have to get coated with a layer of gritty particulate on my way back to refuge.  This resort had a beach, then a boardwalk, then a 'rinse off' area, then the poolside, and I could have gone the full week without ever getting sand on my feet.  No doubt an upper tier of paradise.  I spent a good portion of the week under the shade of an umbrella doing a crossword puzzle.  I fancy myself a renaissance man and may have been the only cruciverbalist to finish a crossword and follow it up with a mojito at the swim up bar.  And then I converted Justin who, since vacation, has sent me pictures of at least 2 crossword books he has either purchased or was given at Christmas.   



This is the swim up bar at which I spent
most of my time exposed to the sun and probably
ingested the Crackenseed in a daiquiri.



I couldn't have imagined a more relaxing and enjoyable vacation.  It was awesome being there with another couple, and we often spied envious looks from silly honeymooners wishing they could have booked dinner for 4 rather than 2.  And speaking of dinner... The food at this joint was divine.  There was one marginal hiccup in my perfect vacation where I must have consumed ice or water implanted with a Crackenseed that implanted in my belly, released, and woke me up at 5 in the morning forcing me to call on the help of Lord Pepto intermittently for the last half of the week.  I consumed a lot of quality bread, bottled water, tums, and humility and eventually kicked the little Montezuma hate-baby inside me.  But the resort and vacation was just that good that I was able to mentally overcome and have an incredible week.  Things I would endorse following this vacation include: Cancun in December, Dreams Riviera Cancun, pools, French cuisine, not drinking the water, Immodium AD.           



{Notes:}

1.  In college, the boys and I had a fuzzy caterpillar named Ratzinger that lived in our colander.  The last time we saw Ratzinger was the first time we went to make spaghetti, but I guess that counts as having owned a unique pet.