Foodie: How would you describe the sea? Like, what colour?
Foodie: But like what kind of blue?
Foodie: Electric teal. Like, it’s electric. I would describe it like all the Crayola crayons in the blue and green range were melted down into liquid form.
Beast: That’s beautiful.
Foodie: Did you see that kid?
Beast: That’s how I imagine Channing Tatum looked when he was 15.
Foodie: Did you see his plate at the breakfast buffet? Hand to god, it was six inches high. He had six sausages, six wieners, four pieces of frittata all on top of a pool of scrambled eggs.
Beast: How do you think Channing Tatum got to be Channing Tatum?
Foodie: The food isn’t so bad, is it?
Beast: It’ll do fine. You know what’s funny, though? All the people who complain about food at Cuban resorts are the same ones who are probably lamenting that Cuba is opening up to the U.S.
Foodie: Yes! They don’t want Starbucks to come because that will somehow ruin the allure of the place but they complain that there isn’t Heinz ketchup and Tabasco sauce. Anyway, the fish isn’t bad.
Beast: I love the rice and beans, especially when they don’t put bits of hot dogs in it.
Foodie: What do you think the French Canadians are saying? Why are they saying it so loudly? What do they possibly have to talk about at such great lengths on the beach? Why do they travel in groups of eight or more? Who would want to do that? Who comes to the beach to talk? And so loudly? Why are they so loud?
Beast: Have you heard the Italians yet?
Foodie: Oh my god. Did you just see that?
Beast: The teenager with the skateboard riding through the bar?
Foodie: Do you think he fought with his parents about bringing it?
Beast: Yes. He asked me for a light earlier today.
Foodie: I’m going to read four books by the end of this week.
Foodie: I could listen to the band play all day and all night.
Beast: God I wish I could dance like those guys.
Foodie: Remember when the one dancer danced with the tanned lady?
Beast: Remember when the cooks danced, too?
Foodie: Remember when I took your photo with the two guys on the beach?
Beast: Do you think my body is as good as theirs?
Foodie: Quiet. Anderson Cooper is on the only English-speaking channel.
Beast: God, I hope Harrison Ford is going to be okay.
Foodie: So let me get this straight. You brought back two beers from the bar even though I asked for a piña colada.
Beast: I said I was sorry! But the bartender said the daiquiri machine was broken.
Foodie: But I didn’t ask for a daiquiri. I asked for a piña colada. I haven’t had a daiquiri all week.
Beast: I think I was confused after the day in Havana.
Foodie: You mean Habana?
Beast: Because you wanted to find the El Floridita bar where Hemingway drank daiquiris. I’m sorry we didn’t get to go.
Foodie: That’s okay. We’ll go back on our own one day. Besides, did you hear what our tour guy said?
Foodie: Did you hear what Ramon said about Hemingway? He said it doesn’t really matter what bar you go to for an authentic Hemingway experience because he drank at them all. [Pause] I can’t believe you brought me back a fucking beer. We’ve been here five days and I’ve only been drinking mojitos, white wine and piña coladas.
Beast: I said I was sorry! He just handed it to me! Do you want me to get you a white wine?
Foodie: I’ll get it. [She gets it.]
Foodie: Can you send back wine at an all-inclusive for being corked?
Beast: Can you imagine?
Foodie: ‘Excuse me, garçon but this wine appears to be corked.’
Beast: You know, at first I hated Skater Boy. But I think he’s really growing on me.
Foodie: I think you mean Sk8er Boi. How old do you think he is?
Beast: Fourteen. Maybe 15.
Foodie: I haven’t seen him on his skateboard since the first time we saw him.
Beast: That’s because he found some other teenagers to hang out with and he picked up smoking.
Foodie: Did you see him playing football on the beach with his new friends?
Beast: I feel like Skater Boy and Jock Boy are vying for the same girl.
Foodie: That girl could throw the football 10 times better than the guys and then all of a sudden she was in between them, like the monkey in the middle, while they just tried to show her how far they could throw. She must have been like, these guys are idiots.
Beast: She could throw a football better than I can.
Foodie: Will you take a picture of my butt?
Beast: Will it be better than your pictures of sunsets?
Foodie: I want to see what it looks like from a certain level.
Foodie: Let me see the photo. Oh god my bottoms are stuck up my butt. Do you know what the hashtag for this is?
Beast: What are you doing?
Foodie: Putting a filter on this bad boy so you can’t see the razor burn.
Foodie: Do you think we got enough photos of me in my caftan?
Beast: God, I hope so.
Foodie: I know what my favourite memory of Cuba is: it’s when I figured out how to describe the colour of the sea.
Beast: I thought we decided on electric teal.
Foodie: No. I have a new metaphor. It’s the perfect metaphor: The sea is the colour of your eyes.
Beast: Are you drunk?
Foodie: Yes, and I just peed in the ocean.
Beast: Do you know what my favourite memory of Cuba is?
Foodie: The caftan?
Beast: Seeing Skater Boy walk by the pool with two bun-less wieners on a plate and then when he saw the football-throwing girl swimming he took a wiener and swung it around like it was his penis.
Foodie: I love a good wiener joke.
Beast: Shall we dry off one last time in the sun and then pack?
Foodie: Yeah, I guess so. But let’s just enjoy this for a few more waves. When they lift me up I pretend like I’m Peter Pan–but without the strings.
Beast: Peter Pan didn’t have strings.
Foodie: This, my friend, is the Broadway version.