Blowhard central


Forget any peace and tranquility while I enjoy a plate of fish tacos.

No chance for quiet reflection with the blowhard in the restaurant. The loud mouth from Minnesota. Bothering everyone. Again.

You know, one of those arrogant back slapping guys’ guys, talking at such a high volume no one within a half kilometre can escape his bragging. He’s an expert in everything you know.

Good news. He has just informed the restaurant his flight home leaves in 50 hours.

Reminds me of the loud, insufferable nutcase I met here this time last year. A California boy who claimed he made his living teaching the children of rich people how to swim. Bored me to tears several evenings with underwater photos of dolphins and other sea life.

Was quite proud of a particular dolphin experience he’d had. Described it as though he was the dolphins’ chosen one. Selected from the hundreds of scuba divers in these waters every day for a private ‘show’. They chose him for a reason, he told me. Because he communicated his love for them. “I kept telling them I loved them,” he said.

Are you fucking kidding me dude? Straight jacket anyone?

Long, painful story short, I avoided him like the plague for the rest of the trip.

Another crazy on the journey through life. I get sent these lunatics for a reason.

Fodder for this blog.

Update. Spend half a day on a small dive boat with the Minnesota blowhard after composing this original posting. Tested my patience big time. Was glad to see him check out the next day. So, apparently, were others at the resort.


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