When I arrived at Hedonism II, the infamous Jamaican resort known for wild parties, sexy floorshows, and a decidedly ambivalent attitude about clothing, I was burnt. I’d just rolled in from a long series of flights to the Caribbean and a warm, dark bus ride from Montego Bay. My throat was parched and I only wanted to sleep. But no sooner had I set down my bags in the lobby when I was greeted with cold champagne.
Things were already looking up. And it didn’t stop there. Across the open-air lobby and dining room, a reggae band was wrapping up a cover of some sexy classic American rock song — the name passing out of my mind, so perfectly did it suit the background of the moment. But after stashing my bags in my room, I discovered that just on the other side of that dining room was a glow stick pool party, thumping with bass as dancers clad only in angels wings shimmied on a large concrete dais like a flock of dubstep caryatids.
An hour shy of midnight, things were just heating up. The reggae band has packed up and a very enthusiastic MC had turned on his mic — not to mention the audience. Metallic G-strings and glow-in-the-dark pasties gyrated against Day-Glo hot pants to the trill of Daddy Yankee singles. There was a waxed, glistening beefcake wearing a half mask like the Phantom of the Opera and a blonde strutting past in a light-up bikini powered by a battery pack hovering over her butt cleavage. At the far end of the pool, an older man waded into the shallows, his flaccid penis floating on top of the water — illuminated by the dim pool lights, like a strange tropical fish.
And I tell you: No one batted an eye. Not a single person. It was awesome.