There is a drink in Belize called the Panty Ripper. It is amazing, potent, always in great supply. Our sailing trip ended with the first mate hilariously making us some instead of driving the boat properly. He says we have to say it "PANTIE RIPPAH". That is all. Well also, this...
Two in the morning we awake on the deserted island to find that one of us is not in the tent. No, one of us is not in the tent at all.
I take a walk around the water; there are no floating bodies. There is also no electricity. I tear my foot on some rocks and then decide if she's dead, well, there's nothing that I can do. And then, the following morning:
Figure appears hangdoggedly walking in the distance towards us...
Me, shouting: Walk of shame!
REDACTED: Yeah, yeah, I slept on the boat.
Me: Uh huh. So...who was it?
REDACTED, laughing: Oh Captain, my Captain!
Me, laughing: Well?
Me (clearing throat): I think we deserve to know how big his mast is.
Panty Ripper indeed. Also for the rest of the sailing trip I was allowed to call the captain "Papasito".