The Moose in the Closet: Business Destinations: Cape Canaveral

The best part about my first job out of college was all the business traveling. Robin was in Boston for that first year, after all, so it was either stay home, alone, or eat steaks and hang out at strip clubs every night, all on the tax-payers dollar. Some destinations were more fun than others (to this day I have a burning hatred in my soul for Aberdeen, Maryland) and some were supposed to be fun but I never had a chance to go out and play.

Fortunately, Cape Canaveral was one of those cities that were supposed to be fun and we ALWAYS found the time to play. And we went there quite often.

We didn’t stay in Cape Canaveral; we actually stayed in Cocoa Beach. Not the most family friendly beach, due to the fact that it’s kind of nasty and the strip is lined with strip clubs, but a great place for a bunch of dudes on per diem. The hotel we stayed at was a resort hotel where all the cruise lines sent people who had pre-cruise overnights. The government rate, for some reason, was retarded low – it was along the lines of sixty-and-change a night if I’m remembering correctly for a place with a huge pool, Jacuzzi, and pool-side bar for socializing. One of the better hotels I’ve ever stayed at on the company dime, the best one likely being some joint in Boca Raton that had an amazing on-site Cuban restaurant and a pimped out suite where the x-rated videos were actually, you know, rated x and not filled with simulated sex (although simulated blowjobs are really funny to watch when you’re drunk).

As far as the work we did out there – we spent the entire time on a Navy base working on a ship that goes out to sea and records the sounds submarines make when they pass underneath it. We’d do all our work in Virginia, bring it there and test it. Sometimes these tests would only take a couple of hours a day and we’d be free for the rest of the afternoon/evening to go boogie-boarding, eat fish plucked right from the ocean, and get some titties in our faces.

On one trip down there all of our shit got lost in the mail – it was delayed by three days. So we had a little vacation down in Cocoa Beach without any stress from work. We were riding go-carts at noon and lying out on the beach for hours. Hanging out at the pool-side bar and getting bombed.

One time at the pool area some chick joins me and a coworker in the Jacuzzi and starts getting super close to us. She’s in town on business, lonely – just telling us all about herself and making sure we know she’s single. Telling us about her trip to the strip club the night before. It was pretty obvious she wanted one (or both) of us. My coworker could tell I wasn’t down, I’ve never cheated on Robin, and it kind of killed the whole mood in the Jacuzzi. She eventually left and worked the pool-side bar instead. Part of me was like, “Fuck – missed opportunity at a three way” but then the other part of me was like, “Oh – with two dudes, though.” Probably why it was easy to turn her away.

Across from the hotel was a huge adult bookstore. I’d make my way there the first night of every trip and get some porno mags to keep in the bathroom. It was always weird going there, because it’s almost a guarantee you’ll see a coworker there. Fuck, sometimes you go with one, you know? And there’s nothing more awkward than finding out what kind of porn your boss likes, let me tell you. My boss – skinny white dude with glasses – apparently loved black chicks.

Brown sugar, baby. Brown sugar.

The food was great, too. Fresh fish was all I ate for dinner. For lunch we went to Frankie’s for Buffalo wings – 10 levels of hotness. I was able to comfortably eat level-7. I tried level ten’s sauce once and almost died. For the fish – I was all about the mahi. One time I ordered it and the waitress said they were out. She then looked out the window and said, “Hold on”. Two minutes later I see her outside the window, buying mahi off of the back of some guy’s boat. I get that shit on my plate about a half-hour later.

And then there were the strip clubs. The one we went to always got packed. Every fucking night. And I’d know because we went every fucking night. One time we went with the VP of the company. This was our third night on the trip, some coworkers and I went the previous two nights. Anyway, this fucking guy walks in like he owns the place – telling us he’s going to show us how to party. Two minutes into the excursion and I’m sitting in the corner getting a multi-song lap-dance from two girls at the same time. Taking turns, rubbing up on me and each other, giving that little giggle strippers do to drive mother fuckers NUTS. Eventually the VP, who spent the second half of the night sitting at the stage and wasting dollars, tells us he’s going to go back to the hotel. I have a stripper sitting next to me as I remind him not to be late for work the next day.

Light weight.

The funniest part about the strip club is that locals would troll the floor and try to give lap dances for five bucks. Nasty women, no teeth and bad breath. Some people would even take them up on the offer. What the fuck, for ten bucks more you get that stripper skin and that smell – oh god that smell – I don’t get the folks who’d rather have grandma ride them for five bucks less.

Cape Canaveral was always a good time. It was the model of consistency. And it’s always nice to establish the baseline before spending several weeks on the OTHER places I’ve visited.

Labels: mitc, travel

Business Destinations: Cape Canaveral

Thursday, August 17, 2006

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