So why, you’re asking, is this Hedo Freak writing up a trip report nearly a year after his second trip home? The time has long since past… and he surely can’t remember the details. Ahhhh, my poor deluded ducklings, you underestimate the power of DIF – and the importance of taking notes while you’re enjoying a week in paradise.
So, while this is a “classic” trip report, rather than a recent one - and while many of us are already longing for (and in some cases planning) return trips - join me if you will for a trip back in time to remember the inaugural journey of the Hedo Freaks.
Doc Brown, rev up the Delorean, would you? Everybody mind the flux capacitor! Those of you who can’t fit, please join Mr. Peabody in the Way-Back Machine. Ok, everybody all buckled in? Off we go!!!
MrsQuackers and I, cursing the early morning hour, but forgiving it because of our ultimate destination, find ourselves at Newark airport, peering into the throngs of people for a familiar face or two. Within five minutes or so, we find ‘em. It’s the Derby Duo, two founding members of our weekly chat group (which came to call itself the Hedo Freaks). We’d always enjoyed emailing and chatting with these two, so sharing a flight down with them was a nice bonus. Sharing the ride to Hedo was even better – as Mr. Derby and I quickly armed ourselves with a couple of Red Stripes the second we started heading for the bus, reloading at the customary Red Stripe stop.
Once en route, we learned that the three couples sharing the ride with us were headed to Breezes. Upon hearing that we were headed to Hedo, they quickly became withdrawn, surely terrified that our nekkidness was contagious. Screw ‘em; we had Red Stripe to drink and catching up to do.
After arriving, we all refueled at the Scotch Bonnet. Patties! Jerk Burgers! More Red Stripe! An occasional nipple peeking out at the next table over! The world was slowly becoming right again.
Full and hot, we were eager to get out of our constricting clothes. We dashed to the nude pool, stripping down as fast as we could and settled into the Hedo way of life. Within minutes, I had arranged for MrsQuackers to get her first Lemon Drop (the infamous, joyous and damned drink from our first trip - http://www.dennyp.com/h3tripreports/2004/chris_0804.htm). Ah, it was a fine afternoon, ducklings. The sun was shining. The drinks were cold. And the PDAs were plentiful, including a wonderful three-girl show.
“It is,” I thought to myself, “good to be home.”
We remained until it was time for the Grand Gala. Having missed this on our first trip, we were eager to try it out. The seafood in Jamaica, after all, is legendary. First on our wish list? Shrimp! (What? No shrimp??? Well, balls.) That’s ok, we’ll just gorge on lobster. (WHAT? No Lobster??? Balls!!)
There was one momentous occasion to this dinner, though. We met ‘Bama Boy and Jersey Girl – who have since become our closest friends. Who’d have thought we’d have to travel to another country to meet people from our own state?
Playboy TV was wrapping up a stay at Hedo, so we watched the couple’s talent show for a bit. The dining room was hot, though, and we found ourselves again wearing too many textiles. We headed back to the nude pool where we met the noodle people! Mr. Noodle was the fellow who named our misfit band of hedonists, so we were thrilled to find him. After a few more drinks – and a few more PDA shows – we decided to call it a night. It has been a long day – and besides, we need to rest up for…
VOLLEYBALL SUNDAY
Mmmm. Smell that, ducklings? It’s an omelet. Made to order. In the dining hall. The breakfast we’ve all been craving. See what time it is? 7:30am.
I know… what the fuck, right????
Damn those body clocks! Don’t they realize we’re on vacation??
Well, despite our valiant struggle, they won. But our stomachs were handsomely rewarded, so everything’s Irie. After gorging ourselves, we headed over to the nude pool, where we relaxed and watched our friends slowly join us over the course of the next couple of hours.
Before too long, I felt the urge rising. I had been good since my arrival – but by this point, the need was physical… primal… if I did not capitulate to this longing, I was sure to explode. It was time – for volleyball.
Oh ducklings, we had a game of epic proportions. It was the stuff of legend. They sing songs of this game still in the outlying villages. The nude pool was re-christened the “Hedo Freaks Nekkid Water Volleyball Memorial Field” (though that proved a bit too wordy for the marketing literature, so the pamphlets still refer to it simply as the nude pool). The gravitational pull of our game was so strong that EC Flex was drawn in. Or maybe he just wanted to watch the women bounce around in the water.
MrsQuackers, impervious to the game’s siren song, dozed in the chair.
After basking in the afterglow, it was time for lunch – meaning we were off to the Scotch Bonnet.
Alas, it was not the glorious place it had been the day before, for there were no patties in the house. A single tear descended down my cheek – much like Iron Eyes Cody (that Indian who cried as he watched people litter in those old television commercials). Determined not to suffer another disappointment at dinner, we promptly made reservations for Pastafari.
Back at the nude pool, it was time for body painting! Last year, MrsQuackers and I won this competition hands down, so we were hoping to retain our crown. My initial design was painted-on lingerie, but what looked great in my head failed to translate to my artistically challenged hands. Sensing humiliation, I went freestyle – and ended up with something better than expected. Alas, it wasn’t enough and MrsQuackers only achieved a third place finish. One quick shower later, it was time for Body Shots! The ECs, however, decided to torture the guys, by declaring that women were the only ones who could receive the body shots. The men, as you might guess, howled in protest, but our pleas went blatantly ignored. We were left hanging - um, as it were.
Determined to have fun nonetheless, we called for a prude side invasion. Marching across the resort, bouncing, dangling and grabbing, we arrived at the foot of the waterslide. It had to be done. We’d been there for over 24 hours and had yet to take the ride. But first… shots! Then… more shots!! NOW we were all ready for the slide.
I couldn’t get enough – and ended up going four times. Eventually, the invasion was thwarted (they’re a tricky bunch, those prudes) and we all went back to the pool to chill.
Dinner was scrumptious, as expected. From there, it was off to the piano bar, for our long overdue reunion with, Oh shit… Glenn. I began guzzling champagne and we sat up front, happily singing every song. Much to our surprise, we ended up shutting the piano bar down, along with ‘Bama Boy & Jersey Girl. As we left around 1:30am, we ran into Forrest Gump and his gorgeous wife the Naughty Nurse, the final two of our Hedo Freak family. We loved them immediately.
After a quick stop back at the nude pool, where we saw the mightiest PDA – ever – we headed to the room at 3:30am. We double dog dared our body clocks to wake up at 7:30am the next day, which just happened to be…
MEMORY ROAD MONDAY
There was none of this 7:30am bullshit going on today. Our body clocks were suitably beaten into submission. But we did wake up in time (barely) for omelets, then back to the nude pool. As we melted into our chairs, we heard some really kickin’ music floating through the air and tracked it back to Mr. Noodle & Lady Noodle – who had brought an MP3 boom box with them and had placed it at the end of the pier on the nude beach. Everyone seemed to be really appreciating the tunes.
Back to the pool, we swam to the nude pool bar, where we were delighted to see Ivy, our favorite bartender from our previous trip! “Darlin’!!!,” she exclaimed! “Where you been at?”
After a quick hug and greeting, something in the pool caused us to turn our heads for a moment. Ivy, God bless her soul, really did remember who we were – and made us two Lemon Drops without asking. The fact that she remembered our drink nearly a year after we were first there touched us in indescribable ways. (Ivy has since left Hedo and while are thrilled for her new happiness, we will miss her horribly.)
It was lunchtime and our hunger grew, but we were too lazy to go to the Scotch Bonnet, so the bartenders gracefully volunteered to bring the Scotch Bonnet to us – in the form of a heaping plateful of patties! We were shocked - SHOCKED! – that so few people had tried them. By the time lunch ended, we had introduced five people to their crusty, spicy goodness. (It’s always nice to turn people on to the finer things in life!)
MrsQuackers and I returned to our chairs to relax. We were both enjoying our books when who should walk by but --- dun dun DUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNN --- Long Duck Dong?
That sounds somewhat politically incorrect, I know. But bear (bare?) with me and the nickname will TOTALLY make sense!
You see, a nice Asian couple set up shop in the chairs next to us. Truthfully, we barely noticed – and probably wouldn’t have, unless... Well, I’m getting ahead of myself.
So, they stripped down and chilled for a bit. Eventually, he drifted off to sleep and she decided to wander around the pool area (maybe to pee, maybe to get a drink, maybe to check out other people’s packages, fill in your favorite Hedo reason). As Long Duck slept on his back, he must have started dreaming – because before long he had a nasty case of “wood on the beach”!
Fine, we’ve seen more erections than we can count at Hedo. What made this particular one noteworthy was Long Duck’s member kept getting hard, then flaccid, then hard, then flaccid. We’re talking wanker calisthenics, ducklings!!! It was a moray eel, sticking its head out to see what was going on, and then backing into its cave.
We sat there chortling until we noticed a major commotion at the other end of the pool. Curious, we got up to investigate. One of our volleyball buddies had slipped and taken a nasty fall – so nasty that he had shattered his arm – breaking both bones in his forearm. He was taken off in a wheelchair. Thankfully, one of the guests was a medic for the Army and had been there to help when the fall took place. Important safety tip: Be careful of the slick tiles at the nude pool.
The disturbance sort of broke the mood, so we went back to our room for a glorious nap. When we woke up, MrsQuackers put on a slinky little back two-piece number for the beach gala. The food was so-so, but the company was good, as we shared a table with the Derby Duo and Mr. Noodle & Lady Noodle.
After a quick stopover at the room, we headed to the piano bar, which wasn’t nearly as fun as the previous night, since some of the newer ECs were trying to run the show. We were there for Glen, not these chuckleheads! Eventually, it was time for bed. I dream of many things, but never could I imagine what would occur on…
MILKSHAKE TUESDAY
Waking up refreshed at 10:30, we dashed to the dining hall for our morning omelets (Damn it all to hell, we were going to pump up those cholesterol levels on this trip, if it was the last thing we did!) before making out way to the nude pool. It wasn’t long before a volleyball game broke out. ‘Bama Boy and I, being civically responsible persons, did our part by playing. Jersey Girl and MrsQuackers sat on the side of the pool, chatting and jeering, er, cheering us.
Around 1pm or so, the four of us decided a trip to the Scotch Bonnet would be a pretty darned good idea. We lingered until around 4pm or so, when we headed back to the nude pool. The plan was to grab our stuff and go take a nap.
Nuh-uh. Didn’t happen.
We got there just in time for body shots. Well, we COULDN’T pass that up! Especially since they let us guys get in on the action this time! Once they ran out of rum cream – and refused to give us any more – ‘Bama Boy and I ran up front to change the time of our dinner reservations so all our friends could join us.
It is, as you know, a grueling walk to the reservations desk – many have died of dehydration en route - so we decided to stop at the main bar for some refreshment. After a shot of Johnny Walker each, we asked the bartender to make something special for our ladies. We brought back “Burned Almonds,” which the wives said tasted good, but not great.
While we were gone, The Naughty Nurse and Forrest had joined the fun. Forrest didn’t say much that afternoon. He let us know he was “chillin’,” but that was about it. Later he confessed to us that he was listening intently to the conversations – and events – around him and that he really did want to contribute to them, but he couldn’t. “Chillin’” took all his energy.
Jersey Girl then sent us to the bar and gave us strict orders to have the bartender mix Frangelica, Amaretto, Baily’s and a splash of cream. I should confess we didn’t follow these orders directly. We had Beverly, our bartender, substitute Rum Cream for Baily’s.
Listen up here, ducklings. This is a drink you want to try next time you’re at Hedo.
The ingredients were mixed with ice, then blended. We named the resulting concoction a “milkshake”. It’s akin to a Nutty Irishman, but infinitely better. These babies taste exactly like a fast food milkshake. And though you will taste no alcohol at all, they carry a kick. One thing about milkshakes, they go down smooooooooooth. We had three or four before we knew it.
At 8:30, our gang – the Quackers, Lady and Mr. Noodle, ‘Bama Boy & Jersey Girl, the Derby Duo, Forrest Gump & The Naughty Nurse - arrived at Pastafari – the ladies looking super hot in their lingerie. We stayed for the next two hours, after which we went, en masse, to the piano bar, where I discovered yet another new drink – a Dr. J Special.
I can’t tell you what’s in a Dr. J special, ducklings, but I can testify without hesitation that it is fruity and good. As the drinks flowed, we began crooning – well, most of us. Forrest wowed us all with an amazing rendition of Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World”. ‘Bama Boy, being a weenie, chickened out when his turn came to sing a duet with his wife, insisting he didn’t know “Mr. Bojangles”. ‘Bama Boy, you’re a great and trusted friend – but at that moment, you were so full of shit it was amazing your spit didn’t turn brown.
Taking drunken pity on Jersey Girl, I joined her in a stirring tribute to that man “with silver hair, a ragged shirt, and baggy pants”. MrsQuackers, who apparently really didn’t know the song that well, let out a painful “Awwww!!” when we got to the line “The dog up and died… he up and died…” We had to console her that it was just a song and the dog that had up and died had never, in fact, up and lived.
Over to the disco we headed, where the ladies shared a cage dance and the men stared. MrsQuackers saw Spike dancing and ran over to jump the poor guy. Ah yes, there was my wife, dry humping the EC. As I was standing around, enjoying a fine beverage, another EC came up and asked my name. I told her and she walked away. “Hmm… weird,” I thought. 10 minutes later I found myself called up front and named the winner of best male lingerie. Those lace up drawers were apparently worth the money! They earned me a monster ass bottle of rum! In appreciation, I shook my thang for the crowd.
Since we were in the vicinity, we felt it would be rude to ignore the water slide. We slid down three times, enjoying the techno color throbbing of the disco as we slid through. Afterwards, it was over to the hot tub for a little fun, before we finally called it a night at 2:30am. Had we known what was coming, we would have powered on a little bit later…
WET WEDNESDAY (and no, not in a good way)
At 8:30am I bolted upright, realizing we hadn’t said goodbye to the Derby Duo the night before. They were scheduled to leave today (which sucked) and since they were such an important part of the group, I didn’t want them to depart without bidding farewell. I also noticed it was raining. It was the start of a daylong trend.
The front desk very kindly told me our friends hadn’t left yet – and wouldn’t be headed out until 10am. Dragging MrsQuackers to the dining room, we gulped down breakfast. As we munched on our (say it with me, ducklings) omelets, we saw Jim and Shirley of the Bubbly Bares. We’d exchanged several emails with these fine folks leading up to the trip and they were sweet enough to make us both honorary Bares. We met several other Bares, but had to make a premature exit when we spotted the Derby Duo.
We dashed over so we could say goodbye. It wasn’t long before Mr Noodle & Lady Noodle, ‘Bama Boy & Jersey Girl and Forrest & The Naughty Nurse happened by as well. Seeing the Duo board that bus was a rude reminder to all of us that the end of the trip wasn’t as far away as we all wanted to think. Since the weather continued to suck, we went back to the room for a nap.
Around 1:30pm, we decided “the hell with the rain, we’ve gotta hit the nude pool!” We emerged – and saw an enormous Bubbly Bares banner hanging over the nude pool bar. Of course, it wasn’t long before a volleyball game broke out. One of the ECs, though, was on a mission to invade the quad. Unfortunately, we just wanted to play. She tried (a little too forcefully) to break up our game, ignoring our repeated statements that we simply wanted to play volleyball. After 20 minutes she left, but not before eliciting a promise that we’d come over when the game ended.
Later that night, we returned to our room to find the message light blinking. “This,” we thought, “can’t be good.” We dialed into voicemail to find FIVE increasingly panicked messages from our next-door neighbor, telling us that my dog was hurt. Now, before you get worried, ol’ wonder mutt is 14 years old and has arthritis. He has basset hound blood, so, like any dog of that species, has lower back problems. We have hardwood floors at Casa de Quackers. Sometimes, he can’t get his back legs working to push himself up. It’s a little sad, but nothing suffers when this happens except his pride.
Our dog sitter, a very capable teenage girl, had gotten a little freaked out, though, so consulted our neighbor – who is prone to panic. Fast forward: We had half the neighborhood at our house, apparently, until one person thought to help the dog up – at which time he was fine and toddled off to have a drink of water and try to con someone (ANYONE) out of a treat.. Meanwhile, our neighbor (who, ironically, is responsible for handling millions of dollars at a time) was thinking about taking the dog to the 24 emergency vet.
We called him back and talked him off the ledge - and thanked him for his concern and diligence. Bemused – and wondering how many of our neighbors now knew we were at Hedonism, we collapsed, gathering strength for
DUMBASS DJ THURSDAY
It was raining again, but the sun had peeked through for about 5 minutes earlier that day, so we knew not to press our luck about a second sunshine voucher. MrsQuackers and I, after a leisurely breakfast and seeing off ‘Bama Boy & Jersey Girl (who were off to Duns River Falls that day) headed over to the nude pool. It was as dead as I’ve ever seen it.
Rather than staying, we decided to take a stroll, eventually ending up in a hammock near the nude (land) volleyball court, relaxing while a light rain fell on us. It was a nice, peaceful break from the wonderful madness of the resort. After a while, we headed back to the pool where things had picked up a little bit. For instance, there was a volleyball game going on, but since no one could find a ball, a beach ball was being used as a substitute. It wasn’t the same. After a couple of games, I begged off and MrsQuackers and I went to the Scotch Bonnet.
It looked to be a disappointing move as I could find no Busha Bill’s jerk sauce and for the third straight day (I didn’t mention it in yesterday’s summary ducklings, because I didn’t want to depress you), they were out of patties. Ah, but our good friend David saw our sad faces and managed to make some magically appear. God bless you David!
Back to the nude pool, we loitered and enjoyed the mostly cloudy afternoon. Time, as it often does in Jamaica, slipped away from us. Holy crap! We only had 30 minutes until the reunion party!
Now, ducklings, I must inform you all that my wife is a wonderful woman and a fine American, but she’s not the speediest person when it comes to getting ready. I don’t mind the wait, usually, because it’s always worth it – but, well, I’ve seen goldfish age and die in the time it takes her to prepare for a night out. On this trip, though, I learned the secret that gets her moving: A possible free three-day trip to Hedo. MrsQuackers broke land speed records getting ready for the party and we were out the door.
(The party was fun, but – alas – we didn’t win.)
Having time to kill before our dinner reservations, we decided to head back to ‘Bama Boy and Jersey Girl’s room, where ‘Bama Boy and I painted our wives some new tops using liquid latex. For those of you who have never painted latex on a woman, it’s an interesting affair. Tip number one: Take off any clothes you’re wearing. One pair of my shorts is now permanently affixed with purple latex. Tip number two: Avoid any area with hair. Any hair. Dear sweet Moses, trust me on this!
Sure, it was messy and stinky, but ultimately it was a very cool thing. MrsQuackers opted for purple, which I painted on in the form of a strapless bra/bikini top. Jersey Girl, after a false start with a yellow top, settled on red. To this day, the mental picture of Jersey Girl standing there as her husband air-dried her tits with the hair dryer makes me laugh. Both women chose to wear sarongs to complete their ‘togas’ for the evening.
Now, Thursday was the beginning of a downslide of sorts – as that was the day the Lorenzo birthday party kicked off. Lorenzo, it seems, is a Florida DJ with a loyal following. Unfortunately, those followers didn’t seem to have a good grasp of what Hedo was about (i.e., no respect). Lorenzo, meanwhile, seemed to have declared himself dictator of the resort – loudly issuing commands to guests. He and his listeners had taken over the game room, so we headed for the piano bar in search of some peace and quiet.
We got there about 90 minutes before Glenn was scheduled to arrive. Dr. J kept us well lubricated with his special drinks. The latex twins got flirty and everyone in our little circle (and more than a few from outside it) who happened by the piano bar swung over to give their latex-enshrined boobs a squeeze.
The Dr. J specials flowed like … well, like Dr. J specials at Hedo, actually … and we were more than a little toasted before too long. Glenn eventually came in and saw he had a lively crowd all warmed up and blessed us with an early start – but not before we made a point to show him two women in latex tops – and nothing else (the sarongs had long since been shed) – and The Naughty Nurse, who was wearing a barely-there black micro dress – one breast exposed, with a tassel covering the nipple. Glenn, as always, summed it up accurately and succinctly: “Oh shit!”
We eventually took off and headed for the nude pool, which was a little too crowded for us. Next, we tried the nude beach, only to be quickly chased away by the sand fleas. We ended up in the quad. The company was grand and Forrest was in rare form, speaking the line that to this day brings a tear to my eye. As we all sat around, talking and laughing and discussing hopes and dreams, he said “The evening is like a puppy.”
Forrest. Dude. You killed with that one!
The night kept getting better as I learned the bartender (who had left long before we arrived) had accidentally left the beer tap live. We enjoyed several beverages without having to make runs to the nude pool. MrsQuackers, at some point, convinced Cajun-accented Forrest to utter the classic line “Life is like a box of chock-lets”. Hilarity ensued for the next 20 minutes.
Secure in the knowledge that nothing would top that, we went off to bed, leaving the Hedo Freaks to carry on without us. They had no idea what was coming the next day…
FETISH FRIDAY
All good things must come to an end, my friends – and today was that day. No, we didn’t leave – but we couldn’t handle another omelet. Our arteries had cried mercy!
By 10:30 we were at the nude pool, where we enjoyed a quiet morning. After a scrumptious lunch at Scotch Bonnet, we enjoyed a similarly lazy afternoon. We made a quick side trip to give Ivy a gift, but basically it was one of those rare quiet days at Hedo. To celebrate this, we decided to take a heavenly mid-afternoon nap. Unfortunately, our favorite DJ Lorenzo had taken over the quad and was playing music at a volume roughly equivalent to that of a space shuttle launch. Every 15 seconds or so, though, he’d talk over the music – on a microphone that was pumped even louder.
We did what we could to make the best of the situation, but eventually went back to the pool. It was dead, so we wandered over the beach, where we saw Mr. Noodle & Lady Noodle floating gently in the water. We grabbed some floats and dogpaddled out to join them. Apparently, we had just missed Forrest & The Naughty Nurse, who had their ocean time cut short when Forrest got stung by a jellyfish.
After drifting for a while, I got out of the ocean and started reading on pier, taking breaks to admire my wife’s glorious booty from time to time.
…
…
(Sorry ducklings… MrQuackers needed to take a little tequila break there.)
‘Bama Boy eventually joined me on the dock and Jersey Girl joined MrsQuackers, Mr Noodle & Lady Noodle in the ocean. Even Forrest and The Naughty Nurse came by, apparently after trying a little more of the island specialty. Our first clue of their sampling came when The Naughty Nurse began having a conversation with the crabs on the rocks.
As the sunset, we all departed – to prepare for fetish night. To capture this moment in time, please allow me to relate to you what people wore.
Me: Tight black boxer briefs and open shirt
‘Bama Boy: Penguin boxers and a Hedo wife beater T-shirt
MrsQuackers: Above the knee leather boots, a leather thong and a leather bra
Jersey Girl: A painted on Latex top (purple), Garter Belt, Fishnet hose and G-string.
The Naughty Nurse: What can only be described as a hypno-bra (swirling circles with no cups), topped with metal tassels and a latex mini-skirt
Forrest: A gimp mask, leather vest and leather shorts
We were quite the sight – and at least 8 men and 6 women in the vicinity got severe cases of whiplash looking at (and lusting after) the ladies. We enjoyed our final dinner at Pastafari then hit the quad pool again. We ended the quiet day with a quiet evening, calling it a night around midnight or so. This, sadly, brought us to…
FOND FAREWELL SATURDAY
Bursting from bed at our new favorite wake up time of 10:30, we were able to say goodbye to Mr. Noodle & Lady Noodle, who had decided to go on the Bubbly Bares nude cruise. We would have loved to gone with them, but alas, this was our day to board that terrible clothing-not-so-optional bus. We dashed to the nude pool to enjoy as much time there as we could before leaving. Taking a small break to pack, we returned to the pool, where our friends showed up one by one. We had just enough time for a last, leisurely lunch at the Scotch Bonnet. Forrest had proven so popular that the nude pool bartender had allowed him to take a bottle of premium Appleton rum with him to refresh his drink.
The lunch was probably one of the best we’ve ever had, due to the amazing company. We knew that we had made lifelong friends with these people and it pained us to leave them. We took a few last group shots at the gazebo – then MrsQuackers and I made a mad dash for the bus, which we almost missed.
The bus ride was a horror story – and it had nothing to do with the driver’s abilities or the roads, but a loudmouth idiot who we picked up at Breezes. Every bit of relaxation we had gathered during the week was lost. But we don’t want to end this happy story by letting him have the last word.
No, we’ll end this story in the airport, where I completed my trip notes, so I would have a detail filled trip report to file. Unfortunately, it appears things weren’t much better there. My last line is “woman next to me as I write this is taking off her socks”.
Farewell, ducklings. MrQuackers is going to go take another tequila break!