Back in the summer of ’71, the Board of Directors of goodr met in the Cancun office, which was located on one of the many pristine beaches in the area. Halfway through the morning board meeting, we ran out of rum for the pina coladas because Rob couldn’t handle the one fucking job we gave him. Unwilling to entertain the idea of a board meeting without pina coladas, we decided to call a recess to the meeting while we ventured into town to acquire more rum.
Maybe it was the solid pina colada buzz we had going or the fact that we had appointed Rob as the navigator, but at some point, we realized that we had lost the road into town and were now hopelessly lost in the surrounding jungle. After spending 10 minutes roundly criticizing Rob for being a complete fuck up, an uneasy feeling that we were being watched crept over us. Suddenly, four flamingos appeared out of the brush, their feathers unbelievably pink and eyes a shocking teal. We stood dumbfounded, unsure whether we should make ourselves look big to scare them off or play dead and just hope they went away.