Word For The Day Is ... HOT

I think we're here in the portion of summer that I like the least--the 'monsoon season'. Granted, the past few days haven't been too bad, but the combination of triple-digit-heat and double-digit humidity that comes from the daily thunderstorms just sucks worse than a tofu burger sauteed in Pepsi. And I'm starting to miss having access to a pool--for the past three summers, I've had a huge puddle of chlorinated water available to me whenever things got a little too uncomfortable, and now, well, all I can do is take a cool shower, I guess.

Overall, I don't mind the heat--hell, I've been a desert-dweller for most of my adult life. But there's a certain irritation that comes with going outside in the middle of the night and learning that it's still 104 degrees. That just ain't right, no matter where you live.

But instead of complaining about it--because I truly cannot do a damn thing about it--I've decided to embrace the concept of heat and talk about a few of it's upsides.

First of all, let me sing the praises of one of my favorite condiments. Officially, it's called Sriracha sauce, or rooster sauce, which of course the more Beavis-and-Buttheadesque members of society have bastardized into calling Hot Cock Sauce. I just refer to it as Flaming Hot Thai Chili Sauce, myself.

Anyhow, I discovered it about 15 years ago when I was working the night shift as a banquet set-up supervisor at the Sheraton San Marcos down in Chandler, Arizona. Unlike the resorts in Vegas, they didn't offer 24-hour room service, but since I had master keys to everything at the hotel, late at night me and my boys would break into the kitchen and make ourselves a snack. One of them turned me on to this stuff we found in the fridge and I've been hooked ever since. It's hotter than shiat, and has a much better flavor than Tabasco sauce. My favorite thing to do is mix it with ranch dressing and put in on a salad, although it goes on anything you'd normally put Tabasco on. And it's great to mix in any red sauce for a little extra zip. Lately, I've been on a baked chicken kick, and again, mixing it with ranch dressing and using it as a dipping sauce is great. All that time I spent in Tennessee, I never saw it on the shelves at the grocery store, but out here, everyone sells it.

If you can get your hands on some, I highly recommend it.

And speaking of hotness, let me introduce you to the latest addition to my laminated list--Nichole Hiltz:


I'd never heard of her until a few weeks ago, but damn, Mikey is smitten. Normally I'm not a huge fan of blondes, (Jenny Love, Melissa Gilbert, Teri Hatcher, Kimmy, random smoking-hot Romanian chicks, etc.), but for her, I'll make an exception. I guess she has appeared in The O.C. or some other such nonsense I've never watched, but I discovered her delicious hottiness when I started watching In Plain Sight earlier this summer. She plays Mary McCormack's dumb-worthless-lazy younger sister (who by the way is an ass-kicking hottie in her own right), but most of her scenes are shot when she's in various stages of being barely dressed, so she appeals highly to my particular demographic. She kind of reminds me of another favorite, Jaime Pressley, but without the red-neckedness that comes from starring in My Name is Earl and Joe Dirt. Anyhow, here's another pic of Miss Nichole, maybe not quite safe for work. You've been warned.

So we've talked about hot sauce and hot girls, two of the things that make life that much more enjoyable, but I haven't yet mentioned the hottest place I've ever been. And let me preface it by reminding you all that I lived in Arizona for 13 years. As hot as it ever got in Phoenix, the most ridiculous heat I've ever experienced would've had to be in San Pedro, Belize.






I was there about four years ago, having never heard of the town of San Pedro, nor was I planning on going there when I got up that morning. We were on our annual 'Sibling Revelry' cruise, and one of the stops that week was in Belize. The plan for the day was to go to Shark Alley and swim with (and feed) the nurse sharks and sting rays.

What they didn't tell us on the cruise, before we each slapped down about a hundred dollars for the 'experience of a lifetime', was what was involved in getting there. First of all, the water around Belize is extremely shallow, so the cruise ship anchored several miles offshore from Belize City, and one had to take 'tenders' or water taxis to their destinations for the day. Second of all, the place where the sharks liked to hang out was about 30 miles away from the cruise ship.

So, unknowingly, we all disembarked from the lowest sea-level deck of the ship, hopped on a water taxi, and headed off for the horizon. Once we were away from the cruise ship with no hope of getting back, they then broke the news to us that it would be a two-hour trip to the reef. In an uncovered boat. With no water. Or shade. In 100-degree heat.

It. was. awful.

At first, it didn't seem too bad. We were motoring through scenic mangrove swamps and just being out on the water was pretty cool. But after an hour in the blazing sun, people were starting to get uncomfortable and grouchy. Apparently, they knew it was a problem, so they had scheduled a stop at San Pedro, on Ambergris Cay, for lunch and rest.

Talk about a crew ready for mutiny--everyone was happy to get off that damn open boat. I swear, by the time we tied up, we felt like a bunch of refugees--hot, sweaty, cramped, wanting to be anywhere but on that boat. So we hit the 'town' with gusto.

As I recall, lunch was at some dive bar on the dock, but we had about two hours to explore the town. Nobody really wanted to eat, but everyone wanted to drink! Sadly, most of the offerings involved freaky shiat like Scorpion and Viper rum, featuring dead critters in the bottle.


So we scarfed down our lunch in a hurry and head off for the main drag, seeking further adventure and a way to cool off. Even though it was late September, it was still about 98 degrees down there, and the humidity was hovering at around 90%. It was tough to breathe. We hit a couple of souvenir stores, just so we could stand under the air conditioning units, but they didn't sell cold beer at the t-shirt shops. The street was dusty, dry, and a little bit third-worldish. Finding a cool comfy spot to hang out seemed an impossibility. And all of the bars, we noticed, were outdoor thatched-roof type of joints. Once it got too crowded under the AC units in the trinket shops, we bit the bullet and headed out to one of the beach bars, willing to pay any price for an ice-based cocktail.


We sat there in the shade, enjoying the ceiling fans and the icy cocktails, agreeing that if it were our choice, we'd bag the trip to see the sharks and just sit there drinking all day. But that was not possible. Eventually, we had pile back into the boat and head out to the reef, about a half hour away. By the time we got there, everyone was roasting and miserable and ready to just hop overboard.

The sharks have been conditioned over the years to come running whenever they hear the boat engines, because it means that they're gonna get fed. Once we stopped and threw the anchor over the side, I was sitting there dangling my arm overboard, trying to keep cool while half-ass listening to the 'safety' briefing. Then something bumped my hand, and I looked over to see a six-foot nurse shark about to treat my digits as a chew toy, causing me to jump about three feet straight up in the air. That put an quick end to the safety briefing and people started getting in the water.

Since the shark had scared the shiat out of me, I thought I'd return the favor. So I cannonballed my fat ass right off the side of the boat, scattering all the sharks and rays, pissing off some of my fellow travelers. I didn't care. I was hot, cranky, and suddenly felt the need to assert my position as the baddest mo-fo on the reef. The sharks, they understood, and none of them tried to nibble on me the rest of the afternoon. And snorkeling around down there, it was pretty cool seeing those bad boys, and swimming around with them on their turf was a neat experience.

Much too soon, it was over and we had to pile back into our refugee raft and head back to the ship. Nobody was looking forward to that ride. About halfway back, we stopped at another beach bar on one of the countless islands that dot the area.



It was nice down a couple of cold beers, take a bottle of water to go, and leave my mark.


Although it was an interesting experience, once we got back to the ship, we all agreed that had we known how miserable it was going to be getting to and from, we never would've done it. Riding in that open boat in that blazing heat and humidity for hours on end was just downright awful. We were all thirsty, tired, and sunburned, not to mention feeling like we got a little bit ripped off.

So if you're ever on a cruise that goes to Belize, take my advice -- Bring lots of sunscreen and skip any excursion that involves an uncovered boat trip to Ambergris Cay. You don't wanna end up looking like this guy when you get back.



Mikey