If you were here, I’d high five each of you. And then I’d run past everybody for a low-five. It’d be awesome.
June 2nd, 2008 by Dusty
Just got back from vacation. The Skirt and I went to St. Croix and boozed and sunscreened our asses off for a week. The first time we went out there, I saw a small buoy near the dock and instantly convinced myself that that particular buoy was not a mooring line, channel marker, crab trap, depth gauge, or anything else that makes sense. Rather, it had to be part of a system of clues that led to pirate treasure; and it was my job to find it. For the record, I am 35 years old.
As usually happens with my best ideas, the Skirt spent a lot of time trying to make me think like an adult. “Dusty, stop telling everyone we meet that you are hunting pirate treasure. They think you are serious and therefore insane. The waiter stopped refilling our water because he’s scared of you now.” For the record, I was both serious and insane.
So I snorkeled out there and followed the line from the buoy to the bottom of the bay and then followed a chain out into deeper water until I realized that I would not be able to hold my breath long enough to dig it up. By the time we left the island I vowed to return with a research vessel, ROV, and full complement of scuba equipment.
Fast forward to May 10th…I had done enough research to realize that things like research vessels are very expensive. It is difficult to discourage a retarded person, so the second day we were there I donned the snorkel, mask, and fins and told the Skirt that I was headed out for the treasure. She laughed and said “Have fun, and bring me a beer when you come back.”
She doesn’t know that pirate beer goes skunky after a few years at the bottom of the ocean.
I went out and flapped around, following the chain on the bottom as far as I could. She sat on the beach taking blurry pictures of me splashing around. After a while, I returned victorious. I came staggering up the beach with a red mark around my face from the mask, doing that one-foot hop you do when you are taking a flipper off of your foot with both hands but you are on some kind of a schedule that prevents you from stopping to do so.
With chest out and chin up, I proudly told little miss naysayer that I had found the treasure.
“Whoa. You have a snot problem.”
In fact, I did have a line of clear phlegm that went from my nose to my right wrist, back to my nipple, and then to my chin. I did the same move I do when I walk through a spider web - basically starting at my face and wiping/flailing until the offending gunk is off. I am the embodiment of sexiness.
“Yeah, whatever. I found the treasure so shut up.”
“Ooh, let me see it.”
I pulled a drippy green box out of my pocket and handed it to her. She opened it up and found an urchin shell in it.
“Good job, buddy.” she said unimpressedly.
And then she took the shell out of the box, revealing the fancy blingified engagement ring I had been silently obsessing over since we left Atlanta.
She wasn’t expecting it any more than you were.
“So, you wanna get married?”
“Yes…wait. To you?”
And the tears flowed and the hugs happened and I knew she had recovered when she said “Did you get me that beer? Get yourself one, too. You earned it.”
“Will do. And for the record, that thing is your problem now. I was about to go nuts worrying about losing it or dropping it or having to sell it to pay for a hooker.”
One can only surmise that women the world over are donating their reproductive organs to science now that I am off the market for good and they have no use for their vaginovarial junk. I gave them all a chance, but they had to play all coy and act like they could have someone who is tall and good looking and has a job. Whatever.
Buying the ring wasn’t nearly as stressful as carrying it around with me. When we got to the airport and went through security, I had one carry-on bag that contained my computer, GPS, phone, cameras, pilot stuff, engagement ring, and basically everything else that was not to leave my sight.
When I got my shoes off and was waiting to send the bag through the xray belt, I was holding it until it was my turn to go through the metal detector. As usual, I was in line behind a robot. First, he went through with his watch and belt on, and then he went through three or four more times, and the line behind me was piling up. Finally, someone at the end of the line pushed the bags forward and my bag disappeared into the tunnel.
Now I’m sitting here all sock-footed and vulnerable, imagining the herd of government employed morons feverishly rifling through my bag, and the idiot running the metal detector is having a hard time wrapping her eighth grade brain around the fact that the guy in front of me had a bowl of buckshot for breakfast.
Finally I got to my shoes and belt and stuff. I was dying to just reach in and check the status of the ring, but the Skirt was there waiting for me. I grabbed the bag and we went to the gate. Finally I had a chance to make sure it was still there. I reached to the bottom of my bag and blindly groped for the box. I opened the clasp and the box and ran my finger along the little cushion thing they put the ring in, and it was not there.
“Holy great fucking mother of fuck, I am going to systematically kill everyone in this county.”
“Whadja’ say, hon?”
“Err…nahthing.”
“What’s wrong?”
“NUUUH-THING-GUH.”
And mercifully my fingers finally closed around the ring, which had apparently fallen out of the box when I opened it. I jammed it back in the box and steadfastly refused to put my bag under the plane when they asked me to do so.
When we got to St. Croix, we had this super nice safe in the room, and guess what I couldn’t put in there because a certain Skirt was running the show when it came to putting stuff in the safe when we left the room. Taking a page from my time in prison, I just stuck it up my ass. At least I would know where it was.
When I had finally decided to go “find the treasure”, I stuck the ring - box and all - in my pocket and waded out into the water to put on my fins and stuff. As I was putting on my mask, a little green box went floating by and I promptly freaked out and jammed it back in my pocket. If it had sunk, I would still be there digging in the sand.
I wanted to put it in a shell or something, so I dorkled around until I spotted a conch on the bottom. I picked it up, and although it was not the greatest looking shell, I held onto it in case I didn’t find anything better.
As it turns out, rather large crabs can live in conch shells, and they are anti-marriage. the middle finger of my right hand was in considerable pain as I yelled “aghhh hutherhucker” through my snorkel and flung him halfway to Boston.
I finally settled on a small urchin shell after confirming that it didn’t have anything mean living in it.
I continued to swim around in the bay and was suddenly nervous. I wasn’t afraid she’d shut me down or anything. It really just seemed like the natural progression of things, and I’ve never doubted that I wanted to marry this broad. In fact, I’ve never even entertained the idea of marrying anyone. The thing that made me nervous was the sheer magnitude of what I was about to do.
I was walking up the beach toward her, laughing to myself, thinking “she has no idea how frigging nervous I am right now. I hope I don’t get the anxiety snots.”
So that’s it. This time next year I’ll be married to The Skirt. I guess I can go ahead and call her Sara now.
But you can call her “The luckiest girl in the whole entire condo”.
Congratulations!!!!!!! I’m so tickled for y’all!
Congratulations! It took an announcement like this for me to de-lurk, but wow!
I can’t wait for updates as you begin to plan your big day!
Congratulations Dusty!
Congratulations! I did not expect that story to go that way!
I wish you many awkward dance offs by nana to the tune of “Brick House” on your blessed day. I would hope your first child will be a masculine child and all, but as you have a cat…you know…
Way to go; well done.
Yahoo! Many congrats, Dusty!
Congrats Dusty & Sara!
Congrats dusty. I may have to steal the idea some day
If she said “yes,” snot and all, she must like you. That or she’s insane. Not that it couldn’t be both.
Congrats to you and Sara, if that is her real name!
My live is over.
That engagement story is made of WIN.
Congratulations!
I was all psyched to take St Croix this August if you hadn’t found the treasure. Then the whole green box thing.
Congrats. Now go make a baby so this blog can take on all new levels of insanity
Well done, mate. Congrats. You should totally get married somewhere up in the wide blue yonder while pulling off a barrel roll or three. You need challenges to keep yourself busy and interested in this life thing…
Dusty,
Congrats to you and Sara. I hope that you two are happy forever, or at least for a while. I love reading the story of your colorful life and hope that you continue to entertain us with your great stories…
This is great news. Because your stories involving the insanity behind the planning of your wedding will prove to be hilarious.
Congrats!!
We’ve got some nice bordelos here in Reno if your are looking for a one-stop-shop for all your ceremony and reception needs.
T
Holyfreakincrapcongratulations.
Quite honestly, I’m looking most forward to the hitchin’ pics with clever little captions.
Joy.
–Bekah
Congratulations! In my opinion, marriage to the right woman is the greatest thing in the world. I’m going to raise a glass to your many years of happiness.
That was beautiful. Looks like the Dusty life happiness maximization plan is in full swing. It’s good to see someone taking life by the balls.
Congrats dude!!
Is Queasy gonna be the ring-bearer?
As long as you keep doing this deal that you do here, I’ll be a happy bastard.
And Skirt, or Sara if you prefer, if you’re reading this right now, make him write more often!! We, his adorable fans love to hear what he’s doing. Call us strange, insane, or both, but we have this whole voyeuristic thing goin on I guess.
‘Tis the nature of what it is to be human.
Congrats to the both of you!!!
Trent
Joy to both of you! She must really love you if she said yes after the snot problem - coulda been a bit of a moment killer. Very, very cool idea for a proposal. Congrats, Dusty & Sara!
Congratulations! We never thought it would happen!
How far can you throw a crab?
It is difficult to discourage a retard. Oh, and congrats on your engagement. St. Croix was a pimp move, I must say. Can’t wait for your first wedding-prep blog rant. This is gonna be soooo good…..
Welcome to Hell, buddy.
…er, I mean “Congratulations!”
I’m with Bekah on this one.
Go wedding pictures!
Congratulations, Dusty & Sara.
[[I’m waiting for my wedding invitation.]]
good for you m8!
So you got engaged, great, fantastic, I’m thrilled for you. But more importantly did you find the buried treasure or not????
Geesh, I swear some people just don’t know how to tell a story without forgetting the important details.
Congratulations and best wishes now and in the future.
IT
Long-time reader, first-time commenter…
Congratulations! I’ve been waiting for this blog for awhile.
um…I need to see a picture of the ring. I’m shallow like that.
You always manage to make me giggle-snort like an idiot when I read you.
Congratulations! I hope you\Sara\and Queasy are very happy together.
What did you do get her knocked up or something? Just kidding–Congratulations, I wish you both much happiness. (although if she does decide she will bear your child I cant’t wait for those posts)
Bravo Dusty, Bravo!
Wish you all the peace and happiness in the world, but you already have that. So I guess I wish you a cold beer instead.
Any plans on little bacon bits crunching around the pad any time soon?
Can we expect to see an exclusive wedding photo spread in Retarded Snorkler Magazine?
Congratulations.
Congrats, man!
Congratulations!
And I agree with Jill - pictures, damnit!
And if it counts for anything, my boyfriend showed me this article. I’m hearing bells in my future … wedding bells!
Well at least you did it right! you pissed her off and confused her before you asked! That way they never forget the asking!
Congrats!
Way to go, D-tard - you’ve just locked yourself into a future of blogging all about wedding planning and it’s inherent obsurdities, cuz you know we’ll bug the anxiety snot out of you if you don’t! Oh, and being ridiculously happy and all that jazzy crap. (that’s how one says congratulations in bachelorese)
hey dusty, congratulations on your engagement, and i was jealous of how romantic your proposal was - your fiancee is one fortunate lady. may God bless you and sara
love
ruth
So happy for you guys! Really, though…you should sell your story to Hollywood, your writing is the best!
Congrads…did a similar thing in St. Thomas. Got married in San Juan. Best move I have done in awhile…well, that and the back-waxing. See…married life screws over your priorities.
T.
I’m another lurker come out of hiding! Way to go Dusty!! You better keep writing now that you’re moving into the “next” phase of life!!
I had my honeymoon 10 glorious years ago in St. Croix. Its a truly beautiful place. We stayed at the Buccaneer Resort during Hurricane season (to make it CHEAP!)and loved every minute.
Hey, you ALMOST found my treasure!! and I thought no one would ever follow the chain all the way down. Now I have to go back and move it
Hope you snorkeled at Buck Island. It was cool seeing all the different coral and fish there. I had to save my wife from being pushed onto fire coral by the guides old people rope. That was after we got in the water and were looking at a Barracuda less that 10 feet away from us. Needless to say the wife hasn’t snorkeled since. Great times were had by all.
Thanks for taking the time to share your fantastic humor and life with us.
Keep yer nose up, flyboy!
Congrats Dusty and Sara!!!! We’re SUPER excited for you both!
I was in St. Croix on May 10th! I was at Divi Resort. Sounds like you might have even been at the same place. HOW could I have missed you? Gah!
I’m sure the random, extremely white shirtless guy yelling out “Hey! Hey you! It’s Dusty!” wouldn’t have ruined the moment for you at all. It would’ve made for some good blogging, though.
Congratulations, man.
Naw, we stayed at the Buccaneer in Christianstead. We went to a party at some friends’ house on the 11th that was pretty much directly across from Divi. Sorry I missed you- I was the guy staggering around with my seventh mojito. Form now on, I’m going to need everyone to send me their vacation plans in advance so we can hang out.
Be on St John from Aug 9 - 17. Let me know in advance if I need to buy more steaks for my birthday dinner.
Congrats!!! Best wishes and all that jazz!