"I Go To Rio "
I just might give John Styn, the infamous Cockybastard (.com), and his fur pants, angel wings, and pink g-strings a run for the money in the flamboyance department. I'm less than a week away of parading around in public half naked, wearing a giant four foot orange feather headdress, six foot "orange and blue "wings", and orange superhero boots.
Now, John can probably pull this outfit off on an average weekend and get away with it. Me, I have to go to Rio.
On Thursday, the Mighty Jimbo boards a plane leaving from Miami for Rio de Janeiro. A day later, I'll be on the beach in Copacabana for the world's biggest party, Carnival!
Rio - the pulse of South America, the home of perfect white sand beaches, the inspiration for the body beautiful, and the birthplace of (drum roll) the thong bathing suit.
About three years ago I met a beautiful young woman on the Inca Trail in Peru. While I was wheezing my way up a steep trail toward a summit of more than 13,000 feet and trying to keep the altitude from rupturing a blood vessel in my brain, she strutted past me with a smile on her face and a coca leaf on her forehead. Rose and I have been friends since - all through the magic of the Internet.
So about three weeks ago, Rose and I were emailing each other about Brazil and when I was going to make it to her country to visit her. During this digital conversation, she asked what I would like to see in Brazil. I responded that I would like to go to Rio, and if possible, one day I would like to go to Carnival. She sent me a note back a few days later. She told me that she and two of her girlfriends had procured an apartment in Rio for the festivities this year and invited me to stay with them.
Um, just to recap, that's three Brazilian women and me, in an apartment, in Rio, during Carnival.
Clearly, I said yes.
Actually I said something like "WOOOOHOOOO!!! YEAH, BABY!!! YEAH!!!" And then jumped up and down a lot.
Now, I don't speak a lick of Portuguese, and Rio and it's surrounding favelas are well known as a fairly dangerous environment. I wanted a wingman for the journey. I called my friend Todd. Todd is college buddy of mine and a fellow traveler of Latin America. He didn't take much convincing. He had an itinerary planned before we hung up the phone - and I had a wingman, most importantly a wingman who speaks my language.
I used some of my frequent flyer miles to get us to Miami. From Miami we found $800 tickets on an American Airlines flight that puts us into Rio on Friday morning. Rose will meet us in the airport, and together we are off to Copacabana and the Carnaval.
For those of you who don't know, Caranval is the celebration held for five days before Ash Wednesday in Brazil. It's Brazil's Mardi Gras. Only bigger. Louder. And most importantly, it's in Brazil! It's famous for raucous parades of costume clad revelers from various samba schools. Rose has enrolled us all in a samba school that celebrates her hometown of Porto Alegre. We will be in costume, in the samba, in Rio, in Carnaval.
Life is good.
I still have a lot to do. I need to pack, pick up our Visas from the consulate, get some travelers checks, buy film, and pick out a thong.
Now if you excuse me, I have to wax.
