Day 351 Herald Hunt

Apparently, it's been so long since I've gotten drunk that I forgot that I actually wake up only a handful of hours after I doze off when I get smashed. 

NO HANGOVERS FOR THIIIIIS GIRL!!! =D

Even more, I'm chirpy as fuck and starving, so I call up Ricky and demand to eat at that fabulous Colombian restaurant we ate at a few months ago. His father has lost a lot of weight from the chemotherapy, and my arms actually reach around his trunk when I hug him. Regardless, he smiles widely like usual. Ricky's sister is slathering avocado on her face and his mom insists that she's sweaty from cleaning the house and refuses to let me come hug and smell her. But I wave from a distance and blow her kisses anyway before I kidnap her son to eat with me.

We're genuinely surprised to find the place packed so early in the morning... largely because it's Sunday and neither of us attend church on a regular basis and thus forget that families eat after mass. We get seated and wait for a whiiiiiiiiile, during which I have a sneaking suspicion the staff is debating on who to send to the one table that has a non-Spanish speaker. Almost an hour later, my food arrives and I devour it within fifteen minutes, feeling like an entirely happy fatass. 

We reach Ricky's house just a little before Gio, who has decided that he wants to attend the Herald Hunt in honor of his birthday that just passed.

Apparently, the Herald Hunt is this epic scavenger hunt that's taken to the extreme, with clues hidden within clues and buried under numbers and codes. Bottom line, it's intense as fuck... and I was rocking sandals, jeans and a sweater-top. This year, the hunt was at the New Marlins Stadium, still being renovated with construction and foodtrucks everywhere.

Turns out, the crowd really hates the creators of the hunt, because the puzzles are so "WTF" that it makes you want to shoot them in the face. Despite this, the creators  have continued to live on to create this year's hunt which began with, I'm not shitting, a 30-foot bra.

The rest of the day goes a bit like this, with us being consistently confused with a few "clues" including one guy who wouldn't stop singing "Take me out to the ballgame" non-stop and a really confusing reading of "Casey at the Bat" within the construction site that makes me have to wear a hardhat.

Turns out, at the endgame, no one wins and after a few more clues, we get reeeeeeeeeeally close to winning a frickin cruise, but it's too late and we make the resolve to come back next year and get just a little bit closer... and to wear comfy clothes and probably bring an umbrella.